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myherowritings · 4 years ago

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PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month.

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place.

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of.

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista.

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores.

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do.

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour.

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack.

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming.

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?”

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!”

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.”

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot.

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.)

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.”

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?”

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now.

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?”

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.”

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.”

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded.

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.”

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either.

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit.

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.”

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.”

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.”

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility.

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter.

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through.

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?”

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron.

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!”

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?”

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.”

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning.

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.”

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude.

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

3K notes · View notes

junghelioseok · 4 years ago

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clandestine. | 05

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.6k [5/6]

notes: second to last installment of a fic that didn’t need to be as long as it is!!! really this entire thing can be summed up with last chapter’s warning, which was “reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty.” i stand by it, okay!!! 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: dumb banter, a couple brief smutty bits, oral (f receiving), listen to slow dancing in the dark by joji during the soft smut scene in the middle if u want

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

“No. No. God, no. Has your music taste always been this bad, or is this a recent development?”

“You will excuse yourself,” you retort sharply, wagging a finger at your brother. “Mr. Brightside is a classic and I will not hear this slander. Please feel free to permanently vacate the premises if you disagree.”

Jimin rolls his eyes from where he’s slouched on the couch beside you, one hand submerged in a bag of chips and his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Really? You wanna go there, Chim?” You raise your hand and begin ticking off on your fingers. “I’m not the one who threw a fit over a piece of cilantro in my taco. I’m not the one who refused to bathe when Mom couldn’t find the right bubble bath.”

“Oh my god, I was eight,” Jimin snorts. “Both times. And cilantro tastes like soap.”

You raise a third finger. “What about the time you hid all the Monopoly money because you kept losing? Or when yo—”

A knock on the door cuts you off mid-sentence, and you nudge Jimin’s shin with your big toe. “Go get the door,” you order, and you aren’t sure if he’s just tired of hearing your voice, but he stands up without complaint and wanders into the entryway to receive your unexpected guest.

“Hey,” you hear him say. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” a very familiar voice replies. “I need some help.”

It’s Jungkook. Of course it’s Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since he dropped you off and kissed you senseless in your driveway, but you’d have to be delusional to think that you could avoid him for the next week and a half before you leave to return to Seoul. And yet, you allowed yourself to indulge in your delusions for two full days, before he tears them apart with ten simple, innocent words.

“So, I think I might have done the laundry wrong.”

Jimin laughs out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s all you, Noona,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you, and you don’t even have wherewithal to lecture him about the sexism of his remark because Jungkook is smirking like he’s just won the lottery and you’re his grand prize.

“Noona?” he begins, his voice syrupy sweet and thick with intent. “Can you come help me?”

You glance down at your pajamas—gray sweatpants and a pink Pusheen t-shirt that’s a couple sizes too big. It’s beyond obvious that you have no plans for the day, and therefore no excuse not to help. Heaving a resigned sigh, you clamber to your feet and roll your eyes when Jimin immediately flops down across the newly abandoned couch and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Have fun,” he calls lazily as you walk out, and you do your best to ignore the wicked grin that flashes across Jungkook’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he says as he lets you pass by him to exit the house. “See you later, Jimin.”

As soon as the front door slams shut, you round on him with a glare. “Are you serious, Jungkook?” you hiss. “He’s totally going to catch on to… to whatever it is we’re doing.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Jungkook chides, clicking his tongue. He hops over the low bushes that divide your property, and waits patiently as you skirt around them. You follow him into his house—down the hallway and into a little side room that houses the washing machine and dryer—and as soon as the door swings shut, he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you close.

“This—this isn’t how you do laundry,” you stammer weakly, winded by his sudden proximity and the dark promise in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I may have lied a little bit. Would you have come if I hadn’t?”

You don’t answer, because you know he’s right. If you had your way, you would have avoided him until it was time for you to leave again. But Jungkook just doesn’t seem to be willing to let that happen, as he tightens his grip on your hips and tugs until you’re flush against him.

“See, the truth of the matter is, I’m actually good at laundry.” He smirks and tilts his head, dark bangs flopping across his forehead. “I’m good at other things, too. Why don’t you let me show you?”

Attraction blooms in your belly, hot as molten lava, and it takes the last ounce of your wavering restraint to say what you say next. “We can’t take too long,” you whisper, letting him hoist you up onto the dryer and jab the start button. The machine rumbles to life beneath you, and you nearly lose your train of thought when the vibrations go straight to your clit. “Jimin!” you gasp. “Jimin—he’ll kill you if he finds out. He’ll fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Why are you talking about your brother? Is this your idea of dirty talk, princess? Because I gotta tell you—it’s not doing it for me.”

“Jungkook!” you chide, and he grins and moves to tug off your shirt.

“That’s much better.”

///

In the days that follow your laundry room tryst with Jungkook, sneaking around becomes routine. Both of your parents work—as do his—so avoiding them is easy. Jimin, however, is a different story. The dance classes he teaches are irregular, and the schedule shifts often enough that you’ve come dangerously close to getting caught on more than one occasion.

And it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook has taken to texting you at all hours of the day, even when you’re eating a sandwich on the couch with Jimin half-sprawled across your lap in his effort to invade your personal space as much as possible.

[12:35pm] Jungkook: hey i just thought of something

[12:35pm] Jungkook: you know how i call you princess?

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Cautiously, you glance at your brother, who is glued to the television and doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

[12:36pm] You: yeah…

His response is instantaneous.

[12:36pm] Jungkook: well i’ve got a throne for you to sit on

You almost sigh out loud. Please don’t, you write back, and you practically hear Jungkook’s cackle in your head as the ellipses that indicate he’s typing pop up at the bottom of your screen.

[12:37pm] Jungkook: it’s my dick ;)

[12:37pm] Jungkook: get it?

I fucking hate you, you tell him, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

[12:38pm] Jungkook: and i love fucking you

[12:38pm] Jungkook: princess ;)

///

After nearly a week cooped up at your parents’ house, you’re getting restless. Without a car, you’re confined to the suburban neighborhood you grew up in, and the revelation that you’re bored somehow spills out to Jungkook during one of the many heated makeout sessions you’ve started having in the backseat of his sedan.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he’d asked, tilting his head curiously, mussed hair falling across his eyes. “I can drive you, if you want.”

And that’s how you find yourself wandering around downtown Busan on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. Jungkook drops you off at the curb after cumming down your throat, and now that he’s dashed off to work the lunch shift at the restaurant, you’re free to explore all of your old haunts. The shopping center that you and your friends used to frequent is right around the corner, so that’s where you decide to start. After all, you’re still in need of some professional attire, and as much as you love your mom, you’d rather avoid the unflattering dresses and itchy pantyhose she would be sure to seek out.

As soon as you step through the glass revolving doors, you find yourself in a familiar air-conditioned paradise of shops and restaurants. Stopping at your favorite coffee spot, you treat yourself to an iced mocha before heading to the first store.

Two hours and three full bags later, you decide to head to the food court for a quick snack. You’d promised Jungkook that you’d meet him at the restaurant once you were finished, but a glance at your phone tells you that you have more than enough time to stop by Kim’s Kitchen. Mrs. Kim makes the best cookies in the entire city, as far as you’re concerned, and you decide to order a dozen to take home and share with your family.

You’re lowering yourself into a seat at one of the many tables scattered around the tree-lined atrium when you spot a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair. The owner spots you a split second later, and you return her smile as she immediately swerves and heads your way. “{Name}, hey!”

“Hey, Chaeyoung,” you greet, gesturing for her to take the chair on the other side of the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, from the looks of it.” She grins and hefts her shopping bag. “I swear I’ve been to every shoe store and still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but somehow I’ve bought this much crap anyway. What about you? What are you on the hunt for?”

“Professional attire,” you say with a grimace. “Why are pants so hard to find? I swear, they’re all either too long or too short, and never fit properly in the waist and thighs.”

Chaeyoung pulls a face. “Ew, I know. Pantsuits are a nightmare unless you have a tailor. And who has money for that?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “So what are you up to now? Mrs. Kim has cookies fresh out of the oven, if you’re interested. Cinnamon rolls too, I think.”

“Ooh, that’s tough,” she says thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Would it be bad if I got both?”

“Not even a little bit,” you assure, reaching into your box and pulling out a cookie. “But here, I’ll make it easier for you. Hope you like chocolate chip.”

Chaeyoung gratefully accepts the cookie you hand over. “Who doesn’t love chocolate chip?” she asks, taking a bite.

“Criminals and heathens,” you reply, snagging a cookie for yourself. “Among others.”

She tilts her head. “Doesn’t Jimin hate chocolate chip?”

“My point exactly.”

Chaeyoung giggles, hiding it behind a manicured hand, and you laugh right along with her. Together, you decide to grab some smoothies, and when you sit back down, the conversation turns to your trip up to the lake house. “Next time, we’ll have to do a girl’s trip,” Chaeyoung says, propping her chin in her palm. “Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done one. You must’ve been exhausted with all those boys around.”

Unwillingly, your thoughts turn to Jungkook. “It wasn’t that bad,” you say slowly. “It was actually nice, being able to spend some time with them.”

“Who ended up going, anyway? Your brother, obviously. Taehyung? Yugyeom?”

You nod, raising a hand and ticking them off on your fingers. “Jimin, yeah. Taehyung, Yugyeom, Taemin, Minho. And Jungkook.”

If Chaeyoung notices the way you pause before saying the last name, she doesn’t comment on it. Her expression grows pensive, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she considers her next sentence. “You must be seeing a lot of him,” she says at last. “Jungkook, I mean.”

You take a massive sip of your smoothie and wonder if you’re imagining the lingering taste of him on your tongue. “Yeah, a bit,” you manage, your voice surprisingly steady. “He games with Jimin a lot.” After a pause, you decide to tell her the truth. “He dropped me off today, actually. Jimin’s working this summer, and I’ve been stuck at home, so he offered to take me downtown on his way to work.”

Chaeyoung hums thoughtfully. “He’s working at a restaurant or something, right?”

“Just a few streets away, yeah.”

Slowly, she nods. “We went out, you know.” Her voice is distant. “Just for a few weeks. He ended it after… well, after we slept together.”

There’s a pause, as Chaeyoung lets you digest this information, and a part of you wants to spill everything to her right then and there. Jisoo told me, you want to say, as acidic guilt begins to bubble up in your belly, every memory of the moments you’ve since shared with Jungkook rising unpleasantly in your throat. I’m sorry. I’m so,so sorry. You say it over and over again in your head, but the apology gets stuck in your throat when you try to voice it aloud.

Chaeyoung takes a sip of her smoothie and leans back in her chair with a sigh, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she says, gnawing on the end of the straw. “Everything changed our senior year, you know? It was like a switch had flipped—he started dating around, relationships that never lasted more than a week… I really should have known better when he asked me out. But I guess I thought I was different. We were already friends, after all. But whenever we were together, just the two of us, he was always… distant. Like he was somewhere else, mentally.”

Her words trail off, leaving only silence that you don’t know how to break. Chaeyoung sips at her smoothie again, before huffing out a laugh and waving a manicured hand in your direction. “God, sorry! I can’t believe I just started monologuing, ew. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—god. I’m not even mad at him anymore, you know? I just want him to figure his shit out.” Her eyes flit up to you briefly, before skittering back down to where a cookie crumb has landed on the tabletop. “It’s funny, though. Seeing him at Taehyung’s graduation party was probably the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He almost seemed like himself again.”

You can’t help it—the singular word bubbles up before you can stop it. “Really?”

Chaeyoung nods, her gaze flickering up to meet yours again. “Really. And honestly? I think it was because of you.”

Your heart does a series of backflips in your chest, thudding against the slats of your ribs. You try to respond, try to find the words, but they stick in your dry throat and your smoothie is practically gone at this point. Chaeyoung shrugs, unfazed by your silence, and you watch as she swirls her straw around in the remainder of her own drink. “I don’t know—maybe I’m imagining things. But it always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Didn’t he used to follow you around the playground?”

The memory draws a startled laugh from your lips. “Sure, yeah. But that was in elementary school.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, smiling around her straw. “Still. We never really forget our first crush, do we?”

///

You head over to the restaurant after bidding Chaeyoung goodbye, her words weighing heavy on your mind and your heart. Through the tall glass windows, you can just barely make out Jungkook—looking sharp in a black collared shirt and matching slacks as he greets a table of diners. His smile is warm and his stance is confident, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s grown from that gangly kid you knew back in grade school when you catch the edge of flirtation lingering in his gaze.

The boy who used to follow you around the playground is gone. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. And so, you take a deep breath and walk into the restaurant, doing your best to smile at the host who greets you and asks whether you’d like to sit at a table or the bar.

“Hey, you made it!”

Jungkook strides over with a grin, taking the menu off the host’s hands and leading you over to an empty seat at the bar. “It’s full service, so you can order food here, too,” he explains. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

You glance down at the menu he places on the counter, scanning the lines of text. “Not really, but it smells really good so I might get something to go. And this carbonara sounds really good, actually.”

“It is,” Jungkook confirms. “I’ll go put the order in. You want some water or anything to drink?”

“Water’s good,” you tell him, and he nods before trotting off to do his job. You watch him disappear to the back of the restaurant before reappearing with a tray of glasses, and follow his meandering path through the tables as he disperses drinks and checks on the guests. Somehow, his shoulders manage to look even broader in his black shirt, and you can’t ignore the way they taper into a narrow waist that’s only emphasized by the belt threaded through the loops of his dark slacks.

He’s stopping at the table you first saw him at now, leaning in close when one of the women seated there asks him a question about something on the menu. His smile oozes easy charm, and you can’t help the feeling that flares in your chest when she reaches for the menu and purposely lets her fingertips graze his hand. Frowning, you tear your gaze away and focus on the wood grain of the bar counter. Your eyes zero in on a smattering of water droplets near your left arm, and you’re just about to run a fingertip through them when a voice sounds to your right.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Surprised, you look up and find yourself face-to-face with a man who appears to be in his early thirties. Dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, a stray lock falling into his eyes, and you find yourself momentarily at a loss for words when your brain registers just how handsome he is.

“I—uh. I think Jungkook is going to grab me some water,” you finally manage, wanting nothing more than to melt into the ground when you hear the stammer in your voice.

“Ah, you know Jungkook?” The man laughs—a sound that is distinctly reminiscent of a squeaky windshield wiper. “He’s been pretty busy today, so why don’t I grab you that water instead?”

You nod, watching as he fills up a glass from the nozzle below the bar, accepting it when he hands it over. “Thanks.”

“Name’s Seokjin,” the man replies with an easy grin. “What’s yours?”

You return his smile and tell him your name. “Seokjin—Jungkook’s mentioned you a few times, I think. This is your place then, isn’t it?”

Seokjin beams. “Yep! Opened just a few months ago, after we finally sorted out the rat infestation and the asbestos problem in the rafters, and—” He pauses at the dumbfounded look on your face, and several beats pass before another peal of squeaky laughter escapes him. “I’m kidding. One-hundred percent. I promise the whole place is up to snuff.”

“So, I see you’ve met Seokjin.” Jungkook materializes at your side with a glass of water, which he takes a sip out of upon realizing that you already have a drink. “Is he making jokes about the health code again?”

“I would never,” Seokjin sniffs, and you laugh, finding yourself completely at ease for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

Jungkook rolls his eyes good-naturedly and turns his attention back to you. “Your carbonara should be out in a few,” he says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “I’m full of chocolate chip cookies, anyway. Here, you want one? They’re still a little warm.”

Jungkook eyes the box you pull out of your bag hungrily. “Hell yes. I can smell them from here.” Laughing, you push the box toward him and watch as he pulls a cookie out and takes an enormous bite. “Thanks,” he says in between chews, his cheeks puffy. You can’t help but smile when he takes a sip of water to wash it all down, his eyes growing round.

Turning to Seokjin, you offer him a cookie as well, which he declines with a graceful wave. “I should be feeding you, not the other way around,” he remarks. “You got the carbonara, right? I’ll go see if it’s ready.”

With one last glance at the patrons sitting at the bar, Seokjin departs with a promise to be back in five minutes. Jungkook finishes off his cookie, and you’re considering offering him another when a familiar chirpy voice sounds from your left.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here! What do you think—should we sit at the bar?”

You whirl in the direction of the voice, your eyes immediately landing on a group of three girls standing near the entrance. Two of them you don’t recognize, but the third you’ve seen before. Mina, you’re pretty sure her name was, and you’d recognize her anywhere. The last time you’d seen her was at the restaurant on the night of Jimin’s and Jungkook’s graduation, and your face heats at the memory of everything else that transpired that night.

“Welcome!” Jungkook draws you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see that he’s wearing a bright, welcoming smile. “Were you looking to sit at the bar, or at a table? It looks like there are a few empty spots at the end of the bar, if you ladies would prefer that. Otherwise, I can take you to a table.”

Mina’s face lights up in recognition, and you’re forced to hide your scowl in your water glass. “Hey, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“You work at that place a few blocks down, right?” Jungkook jabs a thumb in the general direction of the street. “I’ve seen you around.”

She giggles and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “That’s right, yeah! I remember you now. Graduation, right? You were my best table of the night.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I bet you tell everyone that.”

“Not a chance,” Mina answers, looking him up and down before a coy smile curves her lips again. “I only say what I mean.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” Jungkook says agreeably. Then he turns to you, distractedly fiddling with his apron as he speaks. “Jin should probably be back with your food soon. Are you okay to sit here by yourself for a bit?”

You can only nod, still staring down into your water glass. “Yeah, sure. Go on, then.”

He smiles and gestures for Mina and the girls to follow after him, and you’re positive you don’t imagine the triumphant look that flashes across Mina’s face before she departs. Frowning, you grab a cookie from your box and break a piece off, grateful for the distraction. Seokjin drops off your carbonara a minute later, and you find yourself suddenly ravenous as you dig into the steaming bowl of spaghetti.

Jungkook returns to your side about five minutes later, raking a hand through his hair as he replaces his notebook back in his apron pocket. “Man, I’m beat,” he remarks. “Thank god Mina and her friends didn’t order anything complicated. My brain would’ve exploded.”

“Thank god for that,” you echo dully. Unwillingly, your gaze drifts over to where Mina is now sitting, chatting happily with her friends. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing Mina here, of all places. I mean, what is she even doing here?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but most people go out and have fun on their days off,” Jungkook responds dryly, a grin breaking across his face when you roll your eyes at him. “Or wait… could it be that you’re jealous?”

You scowl. “Don’t be stupid.”

Jungkook just laughs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can look you in the eye. “It’s okay,” he says, his thumb brushing softly along the corner of your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, princess.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, and thankfully you don’t have to. Seokjin returns with a takeout container for you to put your leftovers in, shrugging off your gratitude when you offer it.

“I’m discounting your food, too,” he says, leaving zero room for argument. “Any friend of Jeon’s is a friend of mine.”

Jungkook’s shift ends half an hour later. He turns on his roadtrip playlist on the drive home, and you are more than happy to let the music wash over you, eliminating any need for conversation and drowning out your thoughts.

“See you later, princess,” he says once he’s pulled into your driveway, following your every move as you climb out of the passenger seat.

It sounds like a promise coming from his lips, and you can only nod. “See you.”

///

You’re in the middle of buttering a piece of toast for breakfast the next morning when there’s a knock on the front door. Perturbed, you walk over to answer it, wondering if perhaps Jimin has forgotten his keys again, but when you peer through the peephole it isn’t Jimin who stares back at you.

“Jungkook—” you begin, swinging open the door, but he cuts you off before you can finish, taking your face in his hands and pressing his mouth to yours.

“Hey,” he whispers once he’s had his fill, pulling back just enough to mumble the greeting against your lips. “They’re all gone for the day, right?”

“Yes,” you confirm, still reeling from the suddenness of his appearance and the subsequent kiss. “But how did you—?”

“Jimin told me,” Jungkook answers shortly, before pulling you close and kissing you again. This time, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, following his lead as he ushers you back upstairs and breaking the kiss only once in the process. He lays you down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and you sigh when he moves down to nip at your neck.

“No marks, Jungkook,” you remind him breathily. “You can’t leave marks.”

A low whine escapes him. “Can’t you wear a scarf?”

“It’s the middle of summer!” you huff in amusement, smacking his arm when he whines again and stubbornly sucks at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Jungkook’s breath is hot against your skin. His fingers find the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them off your hips and down your legs, and you kick them off as soon as they’ve reached your ankles. Hungrily, his gaze traverses the newly revealed skin, and you shiver when he gently trails his fingertips up your calves and all the way to the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Jungkook,” you sigh. “I haven’t shaved in days.”

“Ask me if I care,” he replies hoarsely, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue against the growing damp spot seeping through the cotton of your underwear. It’s far from your sexiest pair—you’d categorize them as granny panties, in all honesty—but Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit fazed as he hooks them aside and licks a broad stripe all the way up to your clit. “Want you,” he groans, and the vibrations from his voice send a volt of tingling electricity straight up your spine. “Want you in every way I can have you.”

You don’t respond. You don’t have to, because Jungkook is diving in with the enthusiasm of a man starved, tossing your underwear aside carelessly before banding his arms around your legs to hold you open. His face disappears between your thighs until only the top of his hair is visible, the dark strands mussed. Lips parting in a moan, your fingers find their way to his head, tangling at his roots, and Jungkook parts from your cunt briefly to groan his approval. Then he’s eating you out again—alternating between broad licks and teasing flicks to your clit before his tongue delves into your entrance, inhaling deeply as if he just can’t get enough.

The sun rises higher into the sky, beaming through your window and illuminating Jungkook’s head and shoulders in warm, hazy gold. You chant his name as you reach your high, spurred on by his teasing tongue and whispered words of encouragement, and the grin he wears when he straightens back up is near blinding. Slowly, he peels off his shirt and shucks off his jeans until he’s completely bare before you, the sun painting him in warm strokes of color. Deliberately, he crawls up your body, hiking up the hem of your shirt as he does. He plants kisses into your newly bared skin, and when he reaches your lips he settles there as if that’s where he’s meant to be.

Jungkook kisses you slowly. He kisses you deliberately—sensually—and you melt into his gentle touch, relishing in the feel of his bare body pressed so intimately against yours. You don’t miss the way his cock hardens against your thigh, but Jungkook seems to be in no hurry to do anything about it. Instead, he cups your cheeks and licks into your mouth, and you’re all too willing to part beneath him like a flower in bloom.

The rest of the afternoon passes like this—hot kisses and slow fucking, the two of you meshing until you’re no longer sure where you end and he begins. You keep an eye on the time, though, and by the time your parents and Jimin return home, you and Jungkook are showered and dry, sitting on the living room floor embroiled in a Mario Kart tournament.

“No fair! You played without me?” Jimin whines, plopping down between you and trying to wrest the controller away from Jungkook. “C’mon, let me have a turn. You’ve been at it all day!”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up past Jimin’s shoulder to meet yours, his lips twitching in barely suppressed mirth. “Yeah. We sure were.”

///

“God, I’m going to be sore for the next month.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” your brother snorts, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger like you’re a small child. His three o’clock dance class has just wrapped up, and people are slowly filtering out of the studio. A few of the younger women glance back toward where you’re standing with Jimin, and you have no doubt they’re vying for one last look at your brother in his tight-fitting joggers and loose tank that keeps drooping off one shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you suppress the urge to loudly bring up the time he walked into a sliding glass door and nearly chipped his tooth. Instead, you pinch his cheek back, and laugh when he pouts.

“Ow, hey! What happened to giving me all your love and support?”

“Please, Mom made me come to your class,” you retort, batting his invasive hand away. “I think she just wanted me out of the house.”

Jimin laughs. “Can’t blame her. You’re a goddamn freeloader.”

“Seriously? Because in that case, I’m dying to hear what that makes you.”

Thoroughly nonplussed, Jimin pinches your other cheek before dancing away on light feet. “I’m an angel. Now go away, so I can get ready for my next class!”

Rolling your eyes again, you heft your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel. “Fine, fine. Good luck, and all that. See you at dinner.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, and when you peer over your shoulder at him, he’s already sprawled on the floor and reaching for his toes in the unmistakable first step of his warm-up routine. He waves when he sees you watching, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before exiting the studio and heading for the door. You’ve borrowed your dad’s car for the day, and hum cheerily as you climb into the driver’s seat.

You spend the rest of the afternoon running errands—stopping by both the post office and the bank before heading for the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for dinner. By the time you get back home, Jimin has finished teaching at the studio as well, and you fix him with a stare as you plop two full bags of groceries in front of him on the kitchen counter.

“Care to help me carry the rest in?”

“Not really,” he replies, but he stands up and follows you outside to the car nonetheless.

Once all the groceries are inside and unpacked, you begin prepping for dinner. Jimin, to his credit, offers his help without you even having to ask, and with his assistance you finish cooking in record time. Your parents join you in the dining room, and together you enjoy the meal over the evening news.

You retire to your room after dinner, cracking open your laptop to go over the details of your internship for the umpteenth time. You’ve read the emails and the attached documents so many times you practically have them memorized, but the anxiety gnawing at your belly refuses to be quelled. You’re returning to Seoul in less than a week, and your empty suitcase sits in the corner of your childhood bedroom like a taunt. You wonder, briefly, if you should start packing.

“Nah, it can wait,” you decide, muttering the words to your nonexistent audience. Standing up, you stretch lazily before exiting your room and heading down the hall to the bathroom that you and Jimin share, muffling a yawn behind your hand.

You’ve just finished brushing your teeth when your phone vibrates against the bathroom counter, a notification lighting up your screen. Spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush, you towel off your face before picking up your phone, blinking owlishly at the text.

[11:08pm] Jungkook: can you come over?

By itself, it’s not an unusual request. At this late an hour, though, you can’t help the unease that rises up in your belly. And as if sensing your apprehension, your phone vibrates again.

[11:09pm] Jungkook: my parents are out

[11:09pm] Jungkook: please? i could use some company

There’s an edge of desperation in his last message—something you haven’t seen in him since you returned home. It reminds you a bit of the Jungkook you used to know—the scrawny, gangly one with a nose too big for his face and an all-encompassing fear of the opposite sex. Give me ten minutes, you tell him.

Okay, Jungkook writes back. See you soon.

The next few minutes are a blur. You slather on some moisturizer and consider changing out of your pajamas and putting on a bra, but dismiss the thought immediately. Jungkook has seen you in far less, and you’re staunchly opposed to putting a bra back on after a certain hour of the night. Besides, he’s sure to dispose of your clothes at some point, so there’s little point in changing. With that thought in mind, you tiptoe out into the hall, past your parents’ bedroom and Jimin’s closed door. You carefully edge around the creakiest floorboards and hop over the two steps in the staircase that always groan when subjected to additional weight. Gingerly, you edge open the front door, just enough to slip out into the night.

The trek across the yard doesn’t take long, and Jungkook swings the door open before you even get a chance to knock. “Hey,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar round glasses perched on his nose. He’s in his pajamas as well—a blue and white checkered set that’s about two sizes too big—and when he ushers you inside, you catch a whiff of his floral laundry detergent.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Long day,” he sighs, raking a hand through his already tousled hair and mussing it further. “Come on in. You want anything to drink?”

You shake your head, stepping into the entryway and watching as he closes and locks the door again. Jungkook nods and shuffles to the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of water from the faucet and downs half of it in one swig. His throat bobs as he swallows, his head tilted back to expose the long line of his neck, and you step a little closer as he turns to refill the glass.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll have some water too.”

“Mm. Okay.” Jungkook turns and fetches a second glass, filling it to the brim before handing it over. Then he takes your free hand and leads you upstairs, taking a left turn into his bedroom and nudging the door closed with his foot.

“So…” you begin slowly, putting your water down on the nightstand and reaching for the hem of your shirt. “We need to be quick. My mom’s a light sleeper, and I’m pretty sure I heard Jimin playing games in his room when I walked by.”

Jungkook chuckles and lays his hands over yours, stilling your attempt to take off your shirt. “When did you turn into such a horndog, Noona? Maybe I just want to hang out.”

You blink. “Did you just want to hang out?”

Jungkook plops onto his bed and grabs you by the waist, tugging you down and into his lap. “I mean, yeah—I thought that was obvious. Figured we could watch a movie or something.” Grabbing the tv remote, he switches on the television hanging on the opposite wall. “Any suggestions?”

You hesitate. You’ve been in Jungkook’s bedroom just once since you’ve come back, and the memory of the way he’d bent you over the desk in the corner sends a pulse of heat to your cheeks. Tearing your gaze away from the piece of wooden furniture, you instead focus on the television screen, watching as he navigates over to the Netflix menu.

“We can go old school too, if you want,” he remarks as he scrolls through the list of new arrivals. “I have a DVD player.”

That draws a laugh from your lips. “When was the last time you purchased a DVD? Last I checked, you only had Kung Fu Panda, Iron Man, and two copies of Titanic for some reason that you still won’t tell me.”

Jungkook laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. “Call it human error,” he says, looping his arms comfortably around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder. “How do you feel about going super old school? I can get the VHS player out of the basement and pop in one of the Pokémon movies.”

“I’m sure we won’t have to resort to that,” you assure him, grinning. “Here, why don’t we just watch Iron Man? Three’s your favorite, right?”

“Three is everyone’s favorite,” he says, scrolling over to the appropriate menu and clicking play. “It’s the best one, hands-down.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

The movie starts, and you shift off Jungkook’s lap to switch off the lights. Darkness overtakes the room as the screen lights up with the opening credits, and when you return to the bed, Jungkook has sprawled comfortably against the pillows lining the headboard. His eyes remain glued to the screen even as he reaches for you, and you hesitate for only a second before joining him, laying down beside him and letting his arm find its way around your shoulders. The scent of floral laundry detergent fills your nostrils, and you subtly nestle a bit closer, resting your head on his chest.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook has seen this movie. You know this for a fact, yet that doesn’t change how raptly he watches the screen, the action sequences reflected perfectly in his glasses. He’s practically vibrating with excitement by the time of the final showdown, mouthing along to the lines, and you hide your smile in the blue-and-white squares of his pajama shirt as the music swells.

It’s well past midnight by the time the credits roll. Jungkook seems perfectly content to lie on his bed with his arm around you, and when you make to get up, his grip slides down to your waist to hold you in place. “You gotta watch the credits all the way through,” he says, blinking at you with bleary eyes now that the adrenaline from the final showdown has worn off. “There’s a post-credits scene, remember?”

You shake your head, but let him pull you back down onto the mattress regardless. “I’m sure you already know what it is. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he asks with a grin.

The end credits continue—an endless stream of names scrolling down the screen. Your eyes begin to droop, the words blurring together, and it’s only when the music stops and the final scene begins that you jolt awake. Jungkook is faring no better than you are, suppressing a yawn behind his hand as he watches the last bit of the film through half-lidded eyes. Then the screen goes dark, and silence descends over the room once more. You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand and see that it’s nearly two in the morning. A look back at Jungkook reveals that both his eyes have fallen shut, and you slowly begin wriggling free from his embrace in order to head home.

You’ve barely moved an inch when Jungkook’s arm tightens around your waist. “Stay,” he mumbles sleepily, one eye cracking open.

You should say no. You should head home to the safety of your own bed. But there’s something about Jungkook—something soft and fond in his tired gaze and something vulnerable in the way he’s holding you so tightly against his pajama-clad body with his hair in complete disarray and his round glasses askew. Heaving a sigh, you reach up to take them off his face, placing them neatly on his nightstand.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll stay.”

Jungkook smiles sleepily and shuts his eyes. “G’night, then, Noona.”

“Night, Jungkookie.”

Within seconds, his breathing evens out, and you know he’s off in dreamland. Twisting in his grasp, you tug your phone out of your pocket and set a quick alarm for six o’clock. Neither of your parents wake up until seven at the earliest, and Jimin would sleep until three in the afternoon if he could get away with it, so you’re certain that you’ll have plenty of time to sneak back into the house. Besides, Jungkook’s bed is comfortable, and his chest is practically a furnace against your back. You aren’t sure you could work up the energy to leave even if you tried.

So instead, you settle back into his embrace and let sleep whisk you away.

///

There are birds chirping outside the window when you open your eyes the next morning, blinking blearily against the sun shining through the curtains. The blanket is tangled around your legs and there’s an arm looped around your waist, and you sit bolt upright when realization dawns. Jungkook groans and mumbles something unintelligible, but you don’t pay him any mind as you twist out of his grasp, clutching for your phone on the nightstand.

7:03am.

Shit.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you rise to your feet and shove your phone into the pocket of your pajama pants. Jungkook makes a sound that vaguely resembles your name, and you spare him a glance as you fumble for your shoes. He’s flat on his back, blinking hair out of his eyes as he fights to stay awake. “Hey,” he manages, his voice raspy.

“I gotta go,” you whisper urgently, successfully putting your shoes on the right feet and wrenching the door of his bedroom open. And then you turn and dash out, leaving a very sleepy, very disheveled Jungkook blinking after you.

Your house, when you carefully crack open the front door and poke your head inside, is quiet. Much to your relief, you don’t hear any of the telltale signs that your family is awake and downstairs yet—no drip of the coffee maker and no sizzle of bacon or eggs. From upstairs, however, you can distantly hear the sound of the shower, so you dart inside and toe off your shoes, padding into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. You check the alarm you’d set the night prior as you scoop coffee grounds into the filter, and curse under your breath when you realize you’d somehow managed to select six PM instead of AM.

You’re seated in the living room with a mug of fresh coffee when Jimin shuffles in with damp hair and a sleepy frown. “You’re up early,” you remark.

“I have a morning class to teach,” he replies, yawning widely as he grabs a fresh mug. “What’s your excuse?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

Suppressing another yawn, your brother turns his attention to the refrigerator, rooting around for the milk. And you return yours to the window, where you can see the side of the Jeon’s house, and Jungkook’s bedroom window on the second floor. There are no signs of life from within, and you wonder if he’d gone back to sleep after your departure. Considering how tired he’d looked last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Chaeyoung’s voice echoes in your mind then, soft and wistful. It always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. And honestly? I think it was because of you. We never really forget our first crush, do we?

And then Jisoo’s words rise up in your brain, just a bit louder. He’s a heartbreaker. He never, ever stays until the morning.

So why, then, did you wake up in his arms today?

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #brother's best friend au #lia writes

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

this drabble was inspired by binnie’s outfit from the hello stranger vid and oh also! we are finally getting changbin’s thighs on this acct dedicated to them teehee

Part 1

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, past reader x han jisung

Genre: smut n’ a lil fluff

Tags: (for this part) softdom!changbin, sub!reader, undergroundrapper!changbin, chan, felix and jisung side characters, hook-up, scraping knees & mentions of blood, thigh riding, oral (m receiving), gagging, protected sex, praise kink, slight breeding kink, orgasm denial and edging (f receiving), begging, fingering (f receiving), squirting, use of handcuffs, cockwarming at the end

Word count: 4.9k

Chapters

PART 1 | PART 2

gif creds to @iconicspearb ♡

2am, and you felt euphoric. Like a fucking cloud. Even though it was typical, there really were no other words that could describe it. Music was blasting on several speaks mounted to the walls and the ceiling. The bass was booming at such a low frequency you felt it reverberating in your chest--or maybe that was your heart.

You had been shoved up against sweaty bodies for nearly four hours now, and your friends Chan and Felix hadn’t told you if they planned on leaving at any time soon. Not like you minded. Nothing felt better than a feeling like this. In a place like this, you could forget the rest of the world for a little bit; who you were and what you needed to do. The buzz in the room was infectious. Everyone in the room threw their bodies together, clashing in one big, beautiful mess.

After four hours, you still wouldn’t get tired of it. Next to you, Chan and Felix were bouncing up and down with you, thrashing their heads to the rapid fire syllables spat by the rappers. Your ears would ring during every tiny moment of silence.

“How much longer do you wanna stay for?!” Your scratched voice called to your friends.

“SpearB hasn’t come on yet!! We have to see him!”

“SpearB?!”

The widest grin attacked Chan’s face, flashing his dimples. “Yeah! I heard that he’s insane!”

Felix threw his arm over your shoulder to dance with him and the two of you fell into a rhythm, shouting over the lyrics of the rapper on stage: you had seen him dozens of times, Chan and him were even on a first name basis.

You new his name too, but that was because you had plenty experience screaming it out for him...both at concerts and in private. Jisung was his name. He was the one that turned you on to fuck buddies. God, he was way too cocky for you to ever to consider anything else.

He dished out out of his signature winks while he buried his teeth into his lip.

You wondered if you would be going home with him again tonight. Not like you minded. The way that he would suck on your clit was unreal.

“--THANK YOU FOR COMING OUT!” Jisung bellowed into the mic, leaping off some structure and launching himself into the air.

You and your two friends cheered for him and clapped for him until your hands turned red. He was cocky...but he was sure as hell talented.

“SpearB is coming next!!!” Felix shook your shoulders in his excitement.

A couple stage hands changed around the stage a little bit by moving around a couple speakers, adding a smoke machine, setting out a new computer at the little table in center stage.

“He-he’s gonna LIVE MIX ON THE STAGE” Chan’s eyes widened.

“He’s gonna what!?” There was almost nothing left of your voice.

“JUST WAIT AND SEE.”

The lights dimmed and Felix and Chan clung to your arms, nearly squeezing the life out of them.

If he was this of a big deal to them, he must be something special.

He stepped out a black shadow, swirls of smoke at his feet. He hadn’t even said anything yet, but his aura was massive. The lights rose slightly so you could see his face better: smoky brown eyes, light brown hair that was nearly silver. He wore a thick silver chain around his neck, contrasting with the rest of his darkly colored clothes. Most of all, your eyes were drawn to his thighs, perfectly shaped and curved under his pants, toned and thick. On his fingers he wore bands of sliver rings.

As soon as his fingers touched the keyboard, Chan and Felix lost their minds clawing at your arms. You had never seen the two of them so giddy.

He didn’t even look at the audience at first, like they weren’t even there. With the tap of his fingers he started making a beat; it was piercing and catchy with snares and 808′s vibrating the room. He had a small keyboard next to him that he used, the silver glimmer from his rings reflected off the stage lights--they were nearly blinding.

The crowd started moving to his beat which he sped up gradually creating a type of tension that you could only really describe like the mere seconds before a climax.

He rose the mic to his mouth after licking his lips tantalizingly slow. He finally let himself look at the crowd. With the mic to his mouth, his eyes met yours, striking you with electricity. Even though his backing music was ridiculously fast, he sauntered to the front of the stage, not breaking with your gaze. This time you definitely knew it was your heart that was throbbing in your chest—not the music.

Chan and Felix were clawing onto you even harder, but you couldn’t feel a thing.

He was fucking mesmerizing.

He hadn’t even said a word.

He crouched down to be eye level with you with his gaze still deathly fierce. Every single inch of him oozed with confidence and unbridled mystery.

Almost like he was teasing you, he shot up and away, turning into his mic, his gruff voice growling over the start of his lyrics.

He never looked at you again for the rest of the performance. You found yourself aching for his eyes on your body again, but he never gave it to you.

No one had ever made you as soaked as he made you.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Aren’t you glad that we stayed, Y/n?” Chan nudged you hard once the three of you had left the club.

The chill of the winter stung at the back of your sweaty neck wonderfully. It felt amazing compared to how stuffy it had been in there for the past several hours.

“--how he looked at you?? Y/n, that was...” Felix laughed out a little in disbelief.

You dig your hands further into your coat pockets. Just above you, tiny flakes of snow started to fall. You huffed out, your breath was wispy floating in the air. You were still getting over it all. How could he have looked at you like that and then pretended that you didn’t even exist? What kind of sick shit was that?

Chan ran in front of you to skid on a patch of ice with child-like giggles.

“You okay?” Felix asked, linking his arm through yours. He was always the best at reading you.

“--yeah, it was just strange. There was something about him that...”

“--I mean, he’s really hot. I’ll give him that.”

You chuckled a little. “You think so too?”

“I’d be blind if I didn’t think so.”

“I don’t even know him...but why did he look at me like that...like he did?”

“I dunno.” Felix shrugged. “We should catch up with Chan before he actually slips.”

“Heh, you’re probably right.”

“You just gonna head back home? It’s really late.”

“Yeah, I’m super tired after all of that.”

“Want one of us to walk you home?”

You pondered for a minute, eyes cast up a little to the sky. The night had turned perfectly quiet during the early hours of the morning. Maybe a walk by yourself could do you some good.

“I’m fine. Thanks for offering though.”

“Text us when you get back?” Your friend gave your arm a little squeeze with a little worry dancing across his freckled cheeks.

“Of course.”

“Okay...don’t forget!”

“I won’t!” You waved your friends away just as you reached the intersection separating your path from theirs.

You sucked in a deep inhale, letting the cold air burn a little in your lungs. The sensation snapped you out of your yawn perfectly. It was just a few more blocks away and you knew the way well. Two rights, one left, two straight ahead.

A blur started to cover your eyes and one more yawn escaped your lips.

Or was it one right and two lefts?

The street lights blurred into green and white lines.

I should be there shouldn’t I?

Behind you the horn honked, loud and shrill.

You thought to yourself, what is someone doing honking so loud at night?

“Watch out!!” A hand grabbed at your arm and jerked you back hard.

You were definitely awake when your body crashed to the cement sidewalk knees first. A burning pain seethed at the skin of your knees.

“Fuck! Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull that hard--”

At first you saw your scraped knees, then you saw him...finally looking at you again.

“What the hell are you doing walking into the middle of the street, didn’t you see the light?”

“Are you fucking stalking me?” Was the first thing your brilliant brain could think to ask.

He scoffed. “You’re welcome for saving your life? You were stumbling around... are you okay? Did you take something?”

Before you knew it you were surrounded by him and his friends: inspecting you for any signs.

“No, I am not on anything.” You hissed. “I just...I think that I’m tired an--wait...where are we?”

“That tired huh?” He helped you to your feet, making you wince. “Shit, you’re bleeding.” His hand lingered on yours.

“Oh. Yeah, it’s fine. Honestly it’s my own fault.” Your tone dropped. “I should have had one of them walk me home.”

“--You need someone to walk you home?”

“No, I got it, thanks. I’m just over that way.” You took two shaky steps forward, your knees immediately buckling in pain.

“No-listen, my place is over there, I can help you get cleaned up--you’re not gonna find any taxis back to your place at this time of night.”

“Are you luring me right now?”

“What?! No!”

You chuckled a little. It was a bit funny how different he was off stage compared to on. You almost forgot how embarrassingly soaked he had made you before.

“Trust me.” He nodded to his friends and they split, leaving the two of you alone under the flurrying snow. “You coming?”

You tentatively took his hand. Funny. This was kind of how it started with Jisung too. All of them were the fucking same. You pitied yourself for thinking that he would be any different.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Changbin, as he introduced himself, lived in a modest apartment with three roommates in a place with creaky floorboards and walls of painted over brick. He swore up and down that there was heating in there, but it didn’t feel like it. He kept very few things in his room save for some things that looked like synthesizers and a TV. The two of you had to tip-toe to his room. He warned you that nothing could be kept secret in that apartment.

“Here, you should clean it first to get anything out of it. Then put this on it, you don’t wanna get infected or anything.”

“oh. Thank you--” You reached out, but instead he knelt at the edge of the bed at your knees. He tore the whole in your tights even wider to start dabbing at your scratches.

“Hey! What the--”

“--They’re already torn. What’s the use in them now?”

He got to work, being as careful as he could tending to you. His hands gently held your leg still. You watched as he did everything. Being this close again, you remembered. Those little silvery and wavy trellises of his hair...he really was gorgeous.

Changbin’s hand smoothed down your calf once he was done, tickling you slightly.

“All done. Better?”

“Yeah...thank you.” You shied away. After seeing this other side of him you didn’t quite know what to think.

“I’d love for you to stay but, seeing as you thought that I was luring you before--”

“--Have I met you before?”

“Me?” Changbin unclipped his earrings. “I don’t think so. But...that’s interesting. I was thinking the same thing earlier. There’s something about you that I recognize.”

“--That’s why you looked at me like that?”

“I looked at you like that, because I thought that you looked sexy.”

You felt a heat rise in your cheeks. There was something especially hard to ignore about how gentle he had been with you before and how his eyes seemed to devour you now recalling the memory. It was...different. Maybe he wasn’t like all the rest of them.

“I guess you must not think I still am if you’re trying to send me home.” You edged him on. It was undeniable how good it felt to have him give you his undivided attention.

“I’m sending you home because it’s the respectful thing to do.”

“That’s honorable.”

“You rather me do something else?”

“You want me to continue being respectful?”

“Do you want to be?”

Changbin paced the length of his room, cradling his neck up. “Stop playing fucking games and tell me what it is you want.”

You thought that him performing was enough to send you over. Seeing him mad was something entirely different. You knew exactly what you wanted; what your body wanted.

You narrowed your eyes. “Obviously. I want you.”

You saw it in his eyes first. It was like the first spark of a flame right before he was set ablaze. All you had to do was say it.

He tore his jacket off and launched himself on top of you, crashing his lips needily into yours. His mouth was addictive, perfectly soft, but running over yours roughly over and over. He kissed you, starving, breathing exhales into your mouth. He wasted no time meeting his tongue with yours, twisting around it slowly, forcing you to slow your pace. He gave you everything at once, then slowly started taking it away again. Changbin sucked on your bottom lip slightly, then pulled. He returned, kissing you again agonizingly slow. He let his hands cascade down your sides, sliding them up your shirt. Further down, he wedged his thigh between your legs, pressing in and issuing a little whimper from you.

“I like to take things slowly...I hope you don’t mind.” He kissed down your jaw to your neck, taking care of the skin he craved here. He pressed harder with his leg.

You cried out before grinding your hips into his thigh hopelessly seeking some kind of pleasure. When you did so, the friction of your clit was just enough.

“So fucking needy.” His warm breath spilled into your ear. “You just can’t wait to have me, can you? Can’t wait to have me filling you up, fucking you deep inside, stretching you out...just like you want to?” He painted more kisses into your neck. “You’re not getting it yet. Not until I say so.”

“Please...” You felt pathetic grinding on him so hard, but you couldn’t stop, not when it felt so good.

“Awww.” He tutted. “Feels good doesn’t it?”

“Mmmm...” You dug your fingers into his arms to pull yourself even closer to him.

He scoffed out a laugh and moved himself off of you. “Quit doing my job for me.” He smirked, then reached down to your legs where he coursed his hands up your inner thighs right where you were most delicate. His fingers reached your throbbing and drenched pussy properly wet through your panties from grinding on him. He ghosted over your clit, letting his fingers fall up and down just slightly, never giving you the satisfaction. Your whole body jerked just for him. Wordlessly, he tore a hole again with one continuous rip.

“fuck. You’re so wet for me.” He wondered at your body. There he was, looking at you as he had done before. His thumb permitted you a couple soft circles to your clit as you helplessly grinded into his hand. His hands looked beautiful teasing your pussy with his silver rings.

“I’ve got something special I wanna use on you.” Changbin rubbed down harder with one hand and drew a pair of shiny metal handcuffs from his beside with the other. “Pretty right?” He twisted them around.

Seeing them instantly made your whole core cry out in desire for him even more.

“Can I?”

You nodded quickly and even provided for him your wrists. As expected they bit with a cold, but how they made you feel...so helpless and usable was euphoric. Changbin rose your arms above your head, then removed the remains of your tights, skirt and underwear. By contrast, he was still completely clothed, but you could see his dick, hard and swelling with girth, pressing up against his pants.

His hands explored all over your legs while you squirmed. The touch of his skin on yours was hypnotic. You had already felt his fingers, so you figured he wouldn’t let you feel them again soon. He drew little scribbles into your skin, sometimes pressing hard, grabbing at you in greedy handfuls.

“You’re so gorgeous Y/n, so pretty for me, so pretty tied up and squirming. You’re such a good girl...I’m gonna make you cum harder than you can even imagine.”

Your little whimpers came out along with a string of explicatives while he teased at you relentlessly, still not going to touch your clit again. Your hands trashed together a little in the cuffs, the cold digging into you. You couldn’t do anything about it. Your hips writhed when his fingers traced up to your belly, then up to your nipples to pinch at them until they were painfully hard. Your whole body craved him so badly everywhere.

“fuck--please stop, please--” you panted out, “touch me.”

Back down again went his hands, and you watched as he devilishly smiled at his work. “I said, not until I say so.” Suddenly his fingers slid right into your pussy with ease. He had tricked you. You nearly screamed at the feeling if he had not slapped his hand over your mouth. “be fucking quiet.”

Changbin pumped in and out at his favored slow pace, curling his fingers up perfectly to rub at your g-spot. Your hands were still useless, so you bit down hard on your lip to keep your moans from escaping.

“You like it this way don’t you? You’re taking my fingers so good, beautiful. Keep being a good girl and I’ll let you cum okay?”

“Mmm-yes, please.” Your words were breathy.

He moved on to fucking you with his fingers relentlessly. He would switch between pumping you full to then pulling out and robbing you of all feeling. As soon as he could sense your walls tightening, he would pull out, eyes greedily watching as you would fall apart from his edging.

Your body betrayed you while you were being cruelly teased and your mind went blank as he brought you back and fourth each time. A tension deep down inside you built every time he would curl his fingers--any moment you knew that you could explode if he could only just let you. You even considered letting your hands fall to rub your needy clit yourself, but you had more than enough of punishing.

“You’re doing so well.” Changbin soothed you at last. “Do you wanna cum for me?”

“Yes.” You sighed out with utter exhaustion.

“Alright. You deserve it.” He kissed into the skin right under your bellybutton where your shirt had tucked up a little.

Finally he rammed his thumb against your clit to give it simulation as he continued fucking into you with his fingers, giving careful attention to your sensitive bud as he wiggled his fingers with speed. The metal on his fingers grazed you too inside, and you felt yourself tightening around him once again. That same tension gathered low and it was so intense and unfamiliar that it scared you. Your back arched as you felt it getting closer..closer...

You cried out, “Changbin, I--”

“Just let it all go, babygirl.” He spread out your legs farther.

You came with such ferocity that you felt lightheaded: you squirted hard with your release. It took every ounce of your will not to make a sound, only letting shallow gasps escape. Changbin removed his fingers as you came, rubbing your clit as you did, giving it a couple slaps where it was swollen. Tears fell down the sides of your face as your whole body shook with each release and your hips buckled together.

Changbin laughed out in awe at the shaking mess in front of him. You felt your whole body flush with heat, and you couldn’t bear to look at him--you had never done anything like that before in your whole life. In fact you didn’t really know what it was. You hid your flustered face under your arms.

“Fuck, that was so fucking hot.” You heard him chuckle. “Why are you hiding? Hey, come back--”

He jingled with the keys and let your wrists free, which were also throbbing with a bit of pain. He kissed both of them one after the other.

“Are you okay?”

You let yourself look at him and you noticed that his shirt was splattered wet from droplets of your liquids.

“Fuck--I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was--”

He laughed softly then crawled over you again. His hands ran up and down your body still in aftershocks. “You don’t have to apologize.” He pressed his lips into yours. “I’m guessing that was your first time squirting, huh?”

“I-I think so.”

“Did it feel good?”

“It felt...so good.”

“I fulfilled my promise then didn’t I?” He caressed the sides of your face to give you even more careful kisses; they weren’t needy anymore, but this time more caring and passionate. Hell, he didn’t even know you but he kissed you like he loved you.

“You want me to do you now?”

“Not yet, you’re still coming down, I don’t wanna ruin this for you.”

“ ‘Kay.” This time you were the one to lean in to keep kissing him. His lips curled into a smile against yours.

Changbin unbuttoned your cropped shirt, then took off his all of his clothes after. He laid down next to you, both of you completely bare and the warmth of his mouth found yours once again. Maybe it was just because you had just cum because of him, but the sense of closeness that you felt to him made you feel impossibly safe. You could have kissed him like this forever.

“You’re perfect.” He whispered onto your lips between kisses.

You slung one of your legs over his hips and his member twitched on your stomach. You had come down enough.

“My turn now?”

“I wouldn’t object to that.” He grinned.

The bed sheets crinkled a little as you descended farther down the bed and he sat his back against the wall. You got your first proper chance to look at his full length: veiny and perfectly thick, dripping just a little with pre-cum. You could only imagine what it would feel like inside you. Changbin’s eyes followed as you wrapped your hand around him and teased the tip with your pointer finger. You licked fat strokes up and down the sides, feeling him hardening even more. The saliva gathered in your mouth seeing the head grow redder and redder. His chest shook with a broken sigh. You gave him one teasing squeeze that made him wince beautifully.

“Keep going.” He commanded, raking his fingers through your hair and gripping there.

“I don't need you to tell me that.” You hushed and flicked the tip of your tongue over his tip.

After he got to do all of his teasing, how come you didn’t get to do some too?

“Don’t make me make you.” He growled.

“Ooo scary.”

Your hand began to pump him and he relaxed, exhaling out with the trailing of his voice hiding his soft moans. Your free hand dug into the skin of his thigh, letting the sharp of your nails pepper little pink crescents. They were so perfect, you rewarded them with kisses and little bites while your hand kept pumping. Changbin’s fingers dug into your scalp needily.

He hissed out, “Give me your mouth.”

A surge of confidence swelled within you knowing he was completely in your control. “You aren’t even going to say please?”

“I don’t say please.”

“Then maybe I won’t suck you off then?”

A flash of betrayal ran across his smoky eyes. “What?!”

“Fine. I won’t make you say it.” You smirked and took him in generously, deeply, pushing down your tongue and taking him down your throat. You were just a little too ambitious: his length made you gag, but you swallowed down the reflex. Changbin’s head fell back and hit the wall.

“fuck yes.” The words escaped his tongue.

You grabbed at him and squeezed, hard, twisting him and flicking your wrist with each turn. He was delightfully hard in your mouth, and with each step closer he gasped out faster and faster. Your head bopped in your rhythm, still taking him in deeper with each move, chasing gags away just as fast as you got a new one. You would stop for a few seconds to let him quiver in your hand and he would groan out once your warmth disappeared.

“Not-not yet,” He gasped out and squirmed, then pushed you lightly off of him. He scrambled over to the beside again, throwing the drawer open and finding a condom which he tore open with his teeth, then impatiently rolled it over his pink length. He threw his body off the bed, grabbing at your hips to align you with the edge of the bed and situating himself between your legs. He was just as impatient when he took some lube into his hand to rub over his dick curled against his stomach. Changbin coaxed his dick into your opening, leaning down over your body with forearms resting on both sides of your head. Once the two of you were connected, you both let out sighs with the feeling consuming you. He filled you up so wholly, so deeply, it even hurt just a little bit, kind of like the first time.

“Baby you’re so tight.” He thrust in slow at first, exactly how he liked it. It felt fucking amazing when he stretched you out grinding his hips even in little to let your clit feel the sensation as well. He attached his lips with yours to lend them his warmth. Your arms latched around his neck and your legs around his waist as you pulled him in even closer. The heat from his sweating chest emanated on you. He started to pick up his pace, giving your g-spot attention again as he angled himself above you.

The two of you sucked in each other’s air as it lasted between your lips for only a few seconds. You moaned directly into his mouth hoping that it was enough to muffle the sound and he returned back with his own arousal spilling all over you and sticking on your tongue.

Changbin pulled away to shove your legs together and press against his torso, making you even tighter. He shut his eyes upon feeling it, focusing on nothing else but his thrusts. His forehead gathered with little beads of sweat and one fell down his brow.

His name flew off of your mouth naturally as he fucked into you, and your second orgasm pooled. His toned arms flexed from where he grabbed onto the bed and he choked out little airy gasps before announcing that he was about to cum.

“Cum inside me baby, fill me up...I’m all yours.”

Upon hearing your words, he set himself loose, pounding into you with astonishing speed doubling over you as he came, leaving himself inside to throb against your walls. There was something so primal inside of you that craved to feel his cum inside of you knowing that he wanted you, that he desired you and that you could unscrew him until he was vulnerable like this, all for you.

“Can we...stay like this for a little while?”

He chuckled a bit, and swept a few strands of your hair off of your face.

“You like how it feels like this then?”

“...yes.”

“Okay beautiful. Anything that you like, can I come back up first? Kinda hard to do it like this.”

You nodded and let himself get situated sitting on the bed, resting himself against the wall once more. Your bodies shivered as you sat back down on his softening dick, but it was the feeling of being connected to him that you craved. He traced his fingers up and down your back, his eyes full of admiration.

“You’re perfect.” He echoed.

“You hardly even know me.” Your fingers twirled his curly hair.

“You’re perfect.”

“Thank you...and...thank you for making me feel so good.”

“My pleasure,” He laughed out the words, “And yours too I guess.”

“Very funny.”

There he was, looking at you again like that. Like he loved you. He didn’t even know you. He didn’t know that things you had done; who you were.

“I’d like to get to know you though. If you’ll let me.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

AHHHH so writing this I kinda fell in love with the potential for this plot, esp with the stuff with the readers history with Jisung???? SHould I make this a series???? Softdom!bin romancing us?? Let me knowwwww

458 notes · View notes

bffsoobin · 5 years ago

Text

Love Love

↳beomgyu could be a tough puzzle to solve. You knew that. You knew everything about him. That’s what best friends are for, after all. But why is he so upset over your date with Taehyun?

➤ best friends to lovers, highschool au, fluff, a little bit of angst (jealousy)

Requested?: yes

Word Count: 3,779

A/N: I attempted humor here, hopefully that translated? Also I hope the turning point is good enough shdksnoeun. I rewrote it a lot to try and fit what the request asked for. As always, heed the general warning that I haven’t proof read or edited this. Also I’m tagging the biggest Beomgyu stan I know, the lovely @star-daegyu as they requested!💕

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“What?” Beomgyu sounded scandalized as you shut the door to your locker.

“You heard me! Don’t make me say it again,” you clutched at the chemistry textbook cradled in your arms. Beomgyu stared down at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen since Mr.Jackson showed a documentary about how climate change was fake. You started walking away but he came with you in perfect lockstep.

“No, say it again. I’m trying to see if my neurons misfired or if you actually just told me that-” he gagged dramatically as the two of you rounded the corner into a different hallway.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” You grumbled cynically.

“Remind me why you won’t repeat what you just told me at your locker?” Beomgyu wrapped his hands around the straps of his bookbag and stared at you indignantly. Your sneakers squeaked against the tile flooring of your classroom as you entered with Beomgyu in tow. The two of you were always the first students in class after your lunch period and today you had even beaten the teacher. Beomgyu looked around at the empty room and gestured around with his arms spread wide.

“Last chance to tell me before this room starts filling up with our drama hungry classmates!” Before you had thought he was just teasing you to get a rise, but now you could sense an undercurrent of something odd. Jealousy?

“Fine,” you grumbled halfheartedly. “Taehyun asked me out.” You knew that your skin was flushed red as a side effect of the confession. Beomgyu nodded tightly before taking a dramatic lap around the classroom. Once he was back by your side, he plopped down in his desk next to you.

“And you said yes?” He had finally lowered his voice as a throng of classmates filtered through the door. Your heart beat kicked up a notch as you tried to pick apart his tone. You couldn’t help but feel an odd pang in your chest at the idea that he might be jealous that someone else got to you first. You dismissed that quickly; as there was no way you would let yourself fall back into that pining when Taehyun was right in front of you and willing to give you romantic attention.

“Of course I said yes, you know I have a crush on him! Why are you being so weird about this?” you hissed underneath your breath as the room filled steadily with even more post-lunch chatter. Beomgyu’s lips were pulled in an unsettling straight line as he simply nodded at your words. A knot twisted up in your stomach at the thought of your bestfriend being angry over something he knew you were excited about. As your teacher began to talk, the only thing you could focus on was Beomgyu. He was sitting oddly still, carefully angling his body away from you so much that you couldn’t even attempt to read the expression on his face. Of course you were worried; but more than anything you were annoyed as hell. You were used to his dramatics and occasional fits, but this sudden change to childish behavior was totally new and frankly unwarranted. If it weren’t for Mrs. Nielsen’s strict note taking policy you would have put much more effort into telling Beomgyu off during the class period.

The class period passed quickly although the cramp in your hand would surely stick around to be sure you wouldn’t forget about all of the chemistry notes you had taken. Beomgyu remained elusive as the two of you packed up and your pride kept you from asking him if he was okay. He made sure that you couldn’t catch a glimpse of more than just his clothed back as he slung his bookbag back on. Without a word, Beomgyu stood and breezed out of the classroom door. You left the room without him by your side for the first time since you became friends in the 8th grade. A pang of sadness shot through your heart at the realization that you must have done something to really upset him. What had you done to upset him so much that he wouldn’t even say goodbye to you?

Beomgyu wasn’t in your next class with you, but it didn’t stop you from letting thoughts of him totally occupy your mind. It was a twisted type of torture, really, to try and pick apart any of the reasons he would have reacted so horribly to what you saw as a happy moment. You never wanted Beomgyu to be angry with you, and quite frankly you couldn’t even think of the last time the two of you had had a serious fight. Sure, there had been small quarrels over what movie to watch or who got a homework question right, but never anything like this. He’s friends with Taehyun. He was even the one to introduce the two of you at a bonfire over the summer. Was he worried that your new relationship would put a wedge between the two of you? Certainly you could conceptualize that he was worried about having to pick sides after a fight or breakup.

In favor of actually processing some of what your math teacher was currently sprawling on the whiteboard, you decided that you had cracked the code of Beomgyu’s anger. You would confront him on the drive home as soon as the class ended. You would make things right.

As the final bell of the day rang, you rushed to the only working vending machine on the floor and bought a bag of Beomgyu’s favorite candy to use as a peace offering. As you waited in front of the library- as per your daily routine- your heart jumped in your throat at the thought that Beomgyu might not meet up with you. He could very easily charm his way into getting a ride from one of your many classmates just to avoid you some more. The thought brought you to the verge of tears. You couldn’t imagine your life without Beomgyu as your best friend and absolute rock. There was no way you could even deal with him being angry at you when you were ready to apologize. The lump in your throat only widened the longer you waited, shifting from foot to foot as students milled out of the building. You considered texting him but knowing how lazy he could be about answering had you abandoning the idea just as fast.

Finally, you spotted Beomgyu as he breezed through a group of freshmen girls who gawked at him as he passed through. He looked a bit panicked as he approached you, eyes roaming all around the area until he finally spotted you and rushed over.

“Y/N!” He sounded a bit out of breath, which surprised you. “I was worried you were going to leave without me.”

“Of course not, Gyu. I was worried you would pawn someone else into driving you home. I really want to talk to you about earlier,” you paused for a second as the two of you began walking towards the exit. “I got you these, though,” you offered him the bright yellow bag and without even looking his way you could see the smile on his face.

“Do we really have to talk about earlier?” Beomgyu asked through a mouthful of candy. You unlocked your car and threw your backpack into the back seat as he climbed into the passenger seat as if he owned it. Which you guessed he technically did. You fixed him with a glare you knew read as one of annoyance. “I’m over it, I promise,” he pouted, jutting out his bottom lip in a way that would usually make you break. But not today. This was important.

“Yes, we really have to talk about earlier,” you closed the driver’s side door and buckled up as Beomgyu reluctantly clicked his own seat belt into place. With the car in motion, you were grateful for having a valid reason you couldn’t look at him just to see more of his pouting expressions. The radio played a pop song you had heard dozens of times but you and Beomgyu sang along anyway. Admittedly, neither of you were too excited to breach the subject at hand so the distraction was more than welcome. The short ride from the school to your neighborhood was usually seen as a blessing, but not with the looming conversation you were suddenly faced with.

“Okay. This is awkward. I’m gonna go,” Beomgyu chirped, leaning down to scoop up his bookbag from the floor of the car. As soon as his hand grasped the handle of the door, you pressed the lock button. He scoffed. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. Locking me in the car?” You expected him to be pouting, but instead he just looked tired. You huffed out a breath of air.

“Yes, Gyu. I’m locking you in the car so that you can’t run away from me when I’m trying to be serious. I’m not mad at you for being angry earlier. I mean- I was- and then I thought about it and I figured out why you were so upset,” Beomgyu’s face morphed into something close to fear and he opened his mouth to speak. “You don’t want to be caught between Taehyun and I if we date and get in a fight or breakup. I didn’t really think about the fact that you’re also friends with him. I can’t imagine how awkward you must feel about it,” you continued despite his desire to talk. You swallowed hard. “But you need to understand that even though you might feel weird, I still really like him and while I love and value your opinion I’m still going to go out with him.” Beomgyu seemed a little stunned but he nodded anyway.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he pushed his hair away from his forehead, “I’m sorry for getting so upset earlier, but I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I’ve known Taehyun for a while but I’ve known you for even longer and the last thing I want to see is you falling apart because of anything he does.” Your mouth suddenly felt dry.

“What do you mean? Is there something I should be worried about?” You had a feeling that Beomgyu had accidentally let part of his last sentence slip and was now trying to pick up the pieces.

“No! No, Taehyun is great. He’s...he’s a good guy. I was just trying to say that,” he took a deep, shaky breath, “that I don’t know what I would do if you ever came to me hurt over a boy. Any boy. I just love you so much.” He seemed oddly vulnerable even though he had told you that exact phrase so many times before. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your breath stuttered upon hearing him say it so emphatically. There was no way he could know the effect his words had on you. His softened eyes locked onto yours at the feeling of your hand on his shoulder.

“I love you too, Gyu. And I promise you won’t have to be dealing with anything like that. I can handle myself. Now please don’t be so awkward tomorrow. We have a lab and I’d rather not spend the whole period forcing you to speak to me.” Beomgyu’s eyes crinkled into a smile and he reached over to pinch your cheek between his fingers.

“Stoppppp,” you whined loudly, pushing his hand away from you with all of your might. When he finally let go you cupped your cheek in feined upset. “I bought you candy and this is how you repay me?” The sound of the passenger car door unlocking prompted Beomgyu to open the door and hop out into his driveway.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll bring you coffee tomorrow morning to make up for it.” He was bounding up the steps to his house before you could even come up with a witty response, but you drove away with a lightened heart.

----

Your first date with Taehyun took place on a warm Saturday night. He took you stargazing in a field you didn’t even know existed and somehow came up with a playlist full of your favorite music. It was such a perfect night that you even dreamed of it when you crawled into bed later in the evening.

The next day, you practically ran down the street to Beomgyu’s house to spill all of the details. You greeted his parents and easily bounded into the comfort of his bedroom like you had hundreds of times before. He was still sprawled out under his comforter, hair laying in a mess around him when you busted in.

“You’ll never guess how well yesterday went!” you threw yourself next to him on the bed and bounced him slightly. He groaned and finally sat up.

“Oh, that good, huh?” His voice was still heavy with sleep as he pushed a hand through his unruly hair.

“Yes! He picked me up kind of late and I was worried he was going to take me to a movie, which is-”

“The worst first date,” Beomgyu finished for you as he slid out from under his comforter and stretched his limbs.

“Right. But instead he took me to this field I didn’t even know was a thing around here, and he brought snacks and a blanket and we stargazed!” Beomgyu nodded along to your words as he shuffled toward his door.

“I have to pee, I’ll be back and you can keep filling me in,” you pouted a bit at his interruption of your rambling but knew just how small and insistent his bladder could be. He had missed his fair share of plot twists in movies due to chugging his entire slushie during the previews. You watched him leave and mentally kicked yourself for fawning over the way a strand of his hair seemed to be stuck permanently straight upwards. It was time for you to focus on Taehyun, not Beomgyu. He was just your best friend.

He returned promptly, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes in a way that made you coo at him. He cringed in return and plopped back down on his bed. “Continue telling me about Wonder Boy,” he droned. You frowned.

“You seem like you don’t want to hear about it, Gyu. Are you okay?” He was quiet for a moment.

“Just peachy,” despite the edge in his voice you continued, thinking maybe he was just grumpy this morning.

“Somehow he made the perfect playlist. I’m talking all of my favorite songs. It totally surprised me. We never even talked about music. I really want to know how he knew it all,” you sighed dramatically and missed the way Beomgyu rolled his eyes. After a few more seconds of silence, you felt the need to talk again.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I feel like you’re mad about...something,” you couldn’t quite place it but you knew that something was off with him.

“I’m sure. Just hungry.” He offered as he stood and headed for his door once again. Out of instinct you followed him to his kitchen and downed a bowl of cinnamon cereal in a comfortable quiet.

“We should watch some movies off of our list today,” you offered as you washed out your cereal bowls. Beomgyu gave you the first genuine smile of the morning as he agreed and rushed back to his room to turn on his television and retrieve the ever growing list from his desk drawer. When you met him in his room he was already cuddled up in his blankets with the movie queued.

“Come on, slow poke!” You couldn’t hold back a giggle at how adorable he looked all nestled in like a newborn baby as you slid in right next to him and laid your head on his chest. The movie he had picked was entertaining enough, but certainly catered more to Beomgyu’s tastes than yours. For the sake of being the wonderful best friend you knew you were, you tried your best to focus on it. At some point you lost track of which character was which and gave up on actively following.

Your phone vibrated three times in a row and you decided that since you were already lost, there would be no harm in seeing who was texting you. Your heart rate increased twofold as you read Taehyun’s name. Your thumbs hovered over the screen as you tried to figure out how to respond quickly. While there were no strict rules for your movie watching adventure, you knew that Beomgyu would get whiny quickly about phone usage.

Unfortunately, your neurons weren’t firing fast enough for Beomgyu’s liking.

“Y/N,” he whined, “Can you put your phone away? Who are you even texting?” You could feel him craning his neck to see your screen before noticeably freezing under you.

“Of course,” he mumbled, darkness edging back into his tone. You sighed and sat up off of him and fixed him with what you hoped was a convincing glare.

“Of course what? I’m sorry he texted me, but why are you so angry over him? There’s something you aren’t telling me. Just come out with it already! I thought we were past your pouting over Taehyun and I!” Beomgyu’s jaw tightened at your words.

“No, Y/N. We’re not past it. I’m not over the fact that you’re doting over him when he didn’t even plan your date!” Your eyes widened in confusion.

“Of course he planned the date. Don’t be ridiculous,” you waved him off, shaking your head in disbelief of how childish he was being. Beomgyu sat straight up and reached for his phone from his bedside stand.

“Fine, look. Here’s the proof,” he shoved his phone into your hands, “He wanted to take you to a movie. I told him that was an awful idea,” you read along the messages as he spoke and saw that he was telling the truth. “And so I gave him the stargazing idea, because you once told me that would be your ideal date.” You knew he was right. You could recall the game of truth or dare where you told him that.

“Beomgyu,” you breathed, “I told you that two years ago.” Your heart swelled with a sort of pride you didn’t know you were capable of. Beomgyu was unable to hold back the shy smile that cracked onto his face. He cleared his throat loudly.

“And I had to tell him what snacks to get, and the music… that’s my playlist for you,” his voice was much more timid than you had ever heard it. “So I planned the date. I was so jealous that he asked you out, and even more so that you said yes. And then he texted me and had to get my advice and I felt even dumber. I’ve been dying to tell you the truth but you were so happy.” Beomgyu heaved a sigh and clenched his fists. “He took you on the date I’ve wanted to take you on since the day we met. And then you came here and you’ve spent all morning talking about how great it was,” he raked his fingers through his hair, “I can’t keep pretending that I haven’t been burning up inside since you told me you said yes to him.”

Beomgyu’s eyes were shaking just as much as his hands when you placed his phone back into them.

“You’re unbelievable,” your words were slipping out before you had time to filter them, “I can’t believe you didn’t just tell me that you liked me. I’ve spent years trying to drown my feelings for you so that our friendship would stay intact and you’re telling me you’ve been in love with me?”

Beomgyu choked on his own spit. “Wait, you have feelings for me too?” You stared at him with your mouth hanging wide open for a few seconds.

“Well I-” you sputtered, “I’ve always kind of…” he raised an eyebrow at you, “Okay, yes! Yes I have feelings for you. I love you too. Love love,” you threw your hands up in defeat as Beomgyu started to laugh deeply. You gasped at him.

“Why are you laughing? I just confessed to you and you’re laughing? You know what, I’m gonna go.” Both of you knew your words held no weight but Beomgyu grabbed you by the wrist to stop you anyway.

“Nope, too late,” he pulled your body back towards his until you were sitting cross legged right next to him. “I’m laughing,” he began as he laced his fingers with yours, “because it's so stupidly like us to take five years and a third party to get us to confess our feelings.” You knew he was right. The absurdity of the situation just felt like another chapter in your book of blissfully clueless friendship.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked sweetly.

“Did you brush your teeth?” You were half teasing and half serious, “I’m not remembering our first kiss as the time you forgot to brush.” Beomgyu pinched your side in retaliation until you surrendered.

“Of course I brushed, Y/N. I’m not a heathen,” you could tell by his tone that he was bordering on being actually offended. “Now can I please kiss you?” You hummed thoughtfully and inched your face closer to his.

“Since you asked so nicely.” His mouth descended on yours and you discovered that yes, he actually did brush his teeth. The thought made you smile as the two of you pressed your lips impossibly closer until they were red and swollen. You felt a little dazed at the idea that you had just kissed Choi Beomgyu, best friend and secret crush of five years. He leaned in again and you closed your eyes, thinking he was going in for another kiss. Instead you felt a rush of warm air against your skin as he laughed.

“You’re already ready for our second kiss?” He teased as you finally opened your eyes. “I was just reaching behind you for your phone,” he waved the object in front of your face. “We have to come up with a text to let Taehyun down easy.” The sparkle in his eyes told you he was getting way too much entertainment out of the idea.

“You’re the worst, Beomgyu,” you crossed your arms across your chest in defense.

“But you love me,” he said in a singsong voice, “love love.”

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cevans16 · 4 years ago

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Choosing Between Two Loves Part 7 ~ Endgame - 3

Summary: You were a Goddess named (Y/N), who had powers similar to Thor and even stronger, you joined the Avengers back when Loki had tried to take over New York. You were great friends with most of them. Tony Stark was someone you were always in love with even though you knew you could never have him. However that all changes when you get to know a certain super soldier....

You woke up with your head pounding, you felt a heavy weight on your chest, when you opened your eyes you saw that it was all debris that surrounded you, something had gone entirely wrong. “Thor?! Tony?!” you called for anyone to hear you but you were met with silence. You pushed the debris off of you, you weren’t severely injured thankfully, you had minor cuts that would surely heal up within the hour, the benefit of being a goddess. You dusted yourself off, grabbed your gear and walked around to see if you could find anyone.

You spotted Thor standing on a small cliff looking down focused on something. “Are you okay?” you asked him, “Mhmmm”, you looked to see where he was looking, you felt your blood drain to your feet, it was Thanos, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Ehhh you mess with time and it’ll tend to mess back” you heard Tony say behind you being followed by Steve. You sighed in slight relief seeing these two alive as well. “What has he been doing?” Steve asked, “Sitting and waiting” Thor replied, “let’s kill him properly this time” he added. You took a deep breath walking first towards Thanos, you had to kill him, no matter what.

“I’ve seen you haven’t been appreciative of what I have done for you all” Thanos spoke when you walked closer to him. “We should appreciate half of a world?” you snickered at him, “Would you like me to destroy it like yours then?” he remarked, “Not this time” you gritted running towards him with your sword. You heard the boys behind you following your lead, each of you fought against Thanos. You were gaining advantage until he knocked out Tony, throwing him on a boulder. It was Steve, Thor, and you fighting against Thanos, he pushed Thor against another boulder, he wasn’t unconscious though, now it was you and Steve. You ran back towards Thanos, he picked you up by your neck, almost squishing you, you felt your feet dangle, “You...will ....never...be a god” you gritted at him between the breathes you were taking. That pissed him off, he was about to punch you straight on when you heard a swishing sound beside you, causing you and Thanos to turn to see what it was, Steve had caught the Mjolnir! You felt excitement, you knew one day it would happen just not when exactly. Steve ran towards you and Thanos, Thanos threw you onto the floor in order to avoid Steve, this gave you leverage in catching your breath. You ran towards the two of them, Steve and you double teamed, he threw his shield at you so you could hit Thanos harder while he tried his best to attain the lightning against Thanos. Unfortunately you caught a hard hit from Thanos, knocking you out unconscious

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The sound of someone yelling woke you up, turning to your right Thor was laying down passed out, Tony was still out. You turned to your left to see Steve limping towards something, you looked up to find Thanos and his entire army walking towards you all. You got up slowly to make sure you didn’t have any serious injuries, not that it mattered any way with Thanos and his army outnumbering you. You walked to Steve’s side, you both knew what was to come, didn’t mean you wouldn’t go down without a fight. This was it you thought, the end of your life, you were so close to beating him. You looked up to Steve, staring into his blue eyes, “It has been an honor to be by your side Cap” you said as your voice broke, Steve didn’t say anything but he gave you a sorrowful smile. He hadn’t heard you call him Cap in so long, he wasn’t ready to die but he was glad to have a great friend by his side not turning against the fight. You turned back towards Thanos, “let’s give them hell” you said.

You made one step forward when you heard a faint sound in your earpiece. “Cap” it buzzed again, “on your left”, it was Sam’s voice. You quickly turned to look at Steve in astonishment, there was no way that could be Sam. You were wrong though, it was, you saw a portal open on the top left, sure enough Sam flew out over you and Steve. You then saw more portals opening one by one, each revealing everyone that had been dusted away. You let out a breath when you saw the kid from Queens that Tony had brought onto the team. You were looking for two more faces, Nat and surprisingly, Bucky’s face. You saw Bucky from a distance, you could tell it was him because of his hair and the type of gun he had, you felt an odd sensation of butterflies in your stomach seeing Bucky. You turned to look at Steve, he had tears in his eyes this time, he gave you a wink, you smiled back to him, tears were falling out of your eyes.

You all formed up in lines, the biggest team of Avengers ready to take on Thanos and his army. You heard Steve yell, “A-VENGERS.........” you saw the Mjolnir fly back to him catching it, “assemble”. You all ran forward; you, Steve, and Thor being the fastest you took the lead. You had so much anger in you, you felt like you were going to explode. You ran into the fight first, pulling out your spear to throw it at one straight ahead and then pulling out your sword....it was hunting season. “Ahhhhh” you gritted through your teeth every time you cut one of them through, blood was splattered all over you, you didn’t care, your mission was further ahead. You were deep into the fight when you heard someone call your name, it was Bucky, “Did you miss me doll?” he smirked at you, you rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t shoot at me this time Bucky” you teased.

You don’t know how long you were fighting but you were all getting closer to the quantum realm machine, you needed it to snap away Thanos and his army. You were about a dozen feet away from Thanos when you were thrown back onto the floor, someone landed it front of you, it was Wanda. “You took EVERYTHING from me” she said angrily to Thanos, “I don’t even know who you are” he replied. To say that Wanda was the most powerful one was an understatement, she had Thanos in the palm of her hand like nothing, it was too much for him apparently because he had his own army attacked to get Wanda to let him go.

You were close to Peter when you saw a bunch of debris falling towards him, you ran to his aid, using your own shield to cover him mostly. “Thanks” he gasped, “No problem kid”. You ran back towards Thanos but he kept throwing things to people you cared about to get you to cover for them. At one point you weren’t sure who you were covering for when you saw Tony move closely to Thanos, you knew you couldn’t move until the debris stopped falling all over. It was getting heavier by the second, all you could do was see Tony get a hold of the gauntlet. “Tony NO!” you yelled, it was too late, the gauntlet formed around Tony’s hand, you saw him mumble something and then snap his fingers. In doing so, the winds picked up causing everything to fall down.

You sprinted towards Tony, holding him up, he looked up at you giving you a tired and sad smile, you looked down to see the damage on his body, it didn’t look good at all, half of it was completely burned. You placed him gently down, kneeling beside him, “Tony it was supposed to be me” you whispered to him, “you can not leave Tony” you said, your voice was breaking, Tony heard that, he didn’t say a word, only pointing a finger towards your heart. You caressed his face softly before placing a kiss on his forehead, you turned back to see Pepper, you didn’t say anything but your face told her everything, she had to say goodbye to the love of her life.

You got up, looking to face the others, you were trying to hold it in to look strong for them and Tony. “Where’s Thor?” you asked practically pleading to find him, you felt a pair of hands grab you pulling you into their chest, you thought it was Thor until you looked up to see Bucky. He looked at you, he had never seen you this way, you looked like you were going to break any second, the strongest warrior was going to break. “Shhh shhh doll” he said trying his best to soothe you, you didn’t realize it but you were almost hyperventilating, the last time you felt like this was when you lost your world, you were having a major panic attack. You opened your eyes again, trying to see through your tears, you caught back a glimpse of Tony, sitting there, his arc reactor was still on and then it shut down. You felt yourself drop, Tony Stark was gone from this world. Bucky held you tighter, rubbing your back while you let the tears drown out. “(Y/N)” you heard Thor’s voice right behind you, Bucky let go of you, as much as he wanted to sooth you, he knew Thor was a special person in your life. “Thor” you were sobbing once Thor hugged you, “he’s GONE”, you said, Bucky caught your last sentence to Thor, “It should have been ME” he heard you say.

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You were beyond exhausted, Thanos and his army were dusted away but you lost another great love in your life, Tony had become such an amazing friend, you couldn’t imagine your life without him, you never had. You were doing everything you could for Pepper to not worry about anything, “I just need you and Morgan to be okay” you would say to her, “thank you (Y/N)”. She was more than grateful to have you there, it gave her a sense of peace in knowing that you would watch over Morgan as if she were your own.

You guys walked down the steps of the Stark cabin towards the lake. You held Morgan’s hand while Happy guided Pepper ahead. Bucky wasn’t sure whether he should attend the funeral due to the situation with Tony but Steve had convinced him to go since everyone would be there, he even used you as an excuse. He saw you walking with Morgan, Tony’s daughter, you looked exhausted, sad, angry, everything was bottled up inside you. You saw Bucky at the far end looking at you, you smiled softly at him. Pepper and Happy arrived at the end of the dock where she let go of Tony’s original arc reactor that she had saved. You knelt down to be right next to Morgan, giving her a kiss on her head, Pepper reached her hand down to squeeze yours.

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Thor was planning on leaving with the Guardians, he and Rocket had asked you to come with them but you refused, “This world needs a suit of armor” you explained to them. You gave Thor a hug, “You know where to find me” you said, “And you’ll know where to find me. You be safe” he replied.

You walked away to head toward Steve, he had to return the stones so the timeline wouldn’t get weird again. You knew Steve was going to return but you also knew Steve would not entirely return as Steve. You walked up to him, Banner, Sam, and Bucky saying their goodbyes. “I’ll be okay” Steve said to you, “You be safe” you replied hugging him harder, “live that life Tony always talked about” you whispered, “Okay but give Bucky a chance” he whispered back causing you to chuckle. You pulled back to give him a kiss on the cheek, “I will miss you Steve” you said tearing up, he smiled at you and then walked over to say goodbye to his lifelong friend Bucky. You gave them their space, walking over to stand next to Sam, you and Sam didn’t really talk to each other but he rubbed your back, “You good?” he asked genuinely, “Hanging in there Sam” you replied.

Banner counted down to Steve leaving, then he was gone, he counted down for him to return, nothing happened. Bucky turned behind you and Sam, calling Sam over, you turned around to see someone else sitting on the bench a few feet away. You saw Sam walk over to him, it was Steve, you knew it. You heard the exchange between Sam and Steve, Sam looked over to you in confusion, Bucky nodded his head, you smiled at him, you could feel the tears again, you hadn’t cried this much in your life. You then saw Sam pick up the shield, it was time for a new Captain America, you knew Sam was the perfect choice.

You were sniffling quietly, “Are you crying again?” Bucky asked you, you avoided his gaze, wiping your tears away fast so he wouldn’t see them, “No” you muttered, “It sounded to me like you were” he said trying to make you laugh, “Shut up Barnes, lets go” you said pulling him with you, his eyes opened wide at you doing that, “Hey now let’s be nice” he teased you, you let him go but he did walk by your side towards Sam and Steve.

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After working a few things out in New York, you had gone back to your home in Europe, you weren’t done with being an Avenger yet. You had stayed in touch with Bucky, he had asked for your number a few days after Steve handed over the shield to Sam. Bucky had been going to therapy and he was pardoned from his past crimes of being the Winter Soldier. You planned on staying in Europe for a while, as much as you had grown to like Bucky, you knew it wasn’t the right time to fall in love. You had to work things out on your own and you knew that Bucky had to work on his own things too, you guys however spoke on the phone a few times a week to check in on each other. One evening you were watching the news when you heard, “Breaking News, Avengers own Sam Wilson has come to the decision to turn in the shield over to the Smithsonian museum”, “SHIT” you said to yourself. You knew that Sam turning in the shield to the museum didn’t mean shit to the government, they were going to try to replace him in no time. You didn’t understand why Sam did it, only one way for you to find out....head back to the States.

#Choosing Between Two Loves Part 7 ~ Endgame - 3 #Choosing Between Two Loves #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Imagines #Bucky Barnes Imagine #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier Imagines #Winter Soldier Imagine #Winter Soldier x Reader #Winter Soldier #Sebastian Stan #MCU #Marvel Imagines #Marvel Imagine #Marvel

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ethanlivemere · 4 years ago

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Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 3

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

_____________________

Chapter 3

Trespass

The true citizen knows that duty is the greatest gift.

The true citizen conserves valuable oxygen.

The true citizen cooperates with his Civil Protection team.

The true citizen’s job is the opposite of slavery.

The Consul’s brief messages echo across the pavement, each one followed by a hollow chime. It has an almost hypnotic effect, as I find myself staring up at the cluster of screens hanging over the intersection. It’s an Orwellian sight to behold: the citizens going about their day while the Consul’s watchful gaze looks down from above.

The true citizen embraces the Universal Union.

I think back to my encounter with the Vortigaunt. It had been a shock to hear English words coming from the mouth of the alien. Its voice was guttural and rough, and it continually made insect-like hissing and clicking sounds, but it spoke English nonetheless. Quite eloquently, even. Vastly different from Black Mesa, where the hisses and clicks had been the only components of their communication. But perhaps the bigger shock in seeing the Vortigaunt was not what it said, but the way it spoke to me. Like I hadn’t killed dozens of its kind in Black Mesa after seeing them slaughter my coworkers. After such hostility, I expected this Vortigaunt to charge up a bolt of green energy and attack me, and my instincts wanted me to reach for a weapon I didn’t have. The last thing I expected was for it to greet me as an ally.

“Your presence gives us hope, Freeman,” it had said. “As you saved my kin in the border world, so shall you save us again on this miserable rock. For now that the lesser master lay defeated, the greater must also fall in time.” Ah, so that’s how it is, I thought. When I killed the Nihilanth, I freed the Vortigaunts from their enslaver, and now they expected me to do the same once more. I remembered the slave camps and factories on Xen, where, for just a brief moment, they didn’t attack me – until the Nihilanth’s Controllers arrived and forced them to fight. They must have realized I was their one hope for freedom. A freedom which, ultimately, was very short-lived.

The Vortigaunt then walked to the contraption that held another one of its kind in its dark liquid. It placed its two-fingered hand against the glass and, despite its alien features, I could see sadness fall across its face. “The Vorti-cells drain power from my kin to support the Combine’s machinery. Those who enter them seldom emerge. The few who do are weakened almost to the point of collapse. Truly, it is a fate far worse than the shackles I bear.” The shackles were different from the ones worn by the Nihilanth-enslaved Vortigaunts. Instead of shining green, they were a dull gray. Their design remained very similar, though. Wrist bracelets, a collar, but also a sort of codpiece that I didn’t remember seeing on the Nihilanth’s slaves. Apparently the Combine deemed it necessary to cover the Vortigaunts’ loins – even though they housed no visible organs of any kind.

The Vortigaunt proceeded to grab a broom from against the wall and told me it had to resume its duty or suffer punishment. It seemed rather ironic, almost comedic even, that an alien race powerful enough to power factories was also being employed to sweep the streets. Recalling the instructions Jeremy had given me, I asked the Vortigaunt if he knew how I could get to the Manhack Arcade, where Barney was supposed to meet me. “Ah,” he responded pensively. “The Manhack Arcade. The hall of the unwitting executioners.” He proceeded to give me clear directions. I was to go to a place he called the Stenographer’s Chasm and then continue in a straight line. I wondered what he meant by ‘unwitting executioners’, but before I knew it, he had already said his goodbyes and disappeared around the corner.

The strange encounter had left me confused and a bit shaken, but I resolutely continued my journey and followed the Vortigaunt’s directions. I had a hard time imagining what this ‘Stenographer’s Chasm’ could be, but I could never have imagined what it turned out to be. An enormous, Combine-modified warehouse consisting of one long room that extended far into the ground, filled with rows of workers perched on stools behind desks, frantically typing on typewriter-like machines. But the stools and desks weren’t on the ground: they were mounted onto single, suspended rails that ran across the room. There were multiple levels of these rails and desks reaching all the way to the ceiling and down into the chasm. The workers had nowhere to go. My guess was that at the end of their shift or when their quota was fulfilled, the rails transported them to a place where they could safely dismount their stools. Until then, they could do nothing but work. I didn’t know what it was they were doing. What kind of paperwork could the Combine have? They didn’t seem like the type to bother with those kinds of things too much. Then again, an intergalactic empire is bound to have some unavoidable paperwork. Probably keeping track of resources and the like.

More disturbing sights awaited me, though. It all began at a building that produced a continuous sound of whirring and chugging, like a giant steam engine. Looking through the window, I saw a black and white tiled hall that was filled with enormous, diagonal pistons moving back and forth. At their base, people were working on the large engines that seemed to drive the pistons. I then realized that the engines weren’t just large, the figures knelt at their base were also small… they were children. Children, no older than twelve, were working on heavy machinery under the watch of Metrocops. And that wasn’t the only factory where children were being forced into labor. A bit further down the street was a smaller brick building that housed a large furnace. More children were stationed at a conveyor belt that lead into the furnace. They took white, ellipsoid objects from barrels and placed them onto the conveyor. They weren’t being burned in the furnace: they reemerged out of the side, attached to the ends of poles, and were transported into another machine. I had seen the white objects before on the brown-robed, flamethrower-wielding beings in the station and on posters that Jeremy had referred to as ‘Cremators’. These were Cremator heads. I tore myself away from the windows and continued my way through the industrial area. I never looked through another window again.

The factories eventually made way for a busier commercial district, which is where I find myself now. It’s the busiest place I’ve seen in this city, apart from the military parade. This must once have been a street with many successful shops, but now most of the display windows stand empty. One of the buildings still in use houses the same ration dispensers I also saw in the station. Another one showcases multiple television screens, all of which display the Combine logo.

“Can you believe it? Free TVs!” says a citizen gazing through the window.

“Don’t get too excited,” his companion replies in a cynical tone. “Those things only have one channel: the Consulcast.” He points over his shoulder at the cluster of screens overhead, where the Consul’s many faces are still naming the values of a true citizen.

But the Consulcast nor the free TVs are the reason why there is so much traffic on this street corner. In fact, I’d wager the Combine strategically placed those here so that as many citizens as possible would be exposed to the propaganda. The real eye-catcher everyone seems to be here for is across the street: the Manhack Arcade. It’s a large building that forms the corner of the street. Completely Combine-made, no recycling of old buildings. The people in the street flock towards the wide entrance on the corner, which is flanked by two Metrocops. Above it hang a number of yellow posters and banners and even more screens, all showing Combine logos and imagery.

I wonder if I should go in. Jeremy told me Barney would meet me at the Manhack Arcade, but it’s unclear if that means outside or inside. It seem risky going into a Combine facility, but it doesn’t seem like the citizens get scanned like they did at the checkpoints, and I could probably slip by the two guarding Metrocops unnoticed by hiding in the crowd.

I wait a little longer, hoping Barney will show himself. The clouds have gotten darker still, and before long a light drizzle starts pouring from the sky. Not only am I not dressed for rainy weather, I also want to avoid getting into too much contact with this water, which, judging from the greenish color of the clouds it originates from, could have all kinds of toxins or undesirable pH values. And so, when an exceptionally dense group of people approaches the entrance to the Arcade, I join them and walk past the Metrocops without either of them giving me a second glance.

Inside is a corridor that leads to the main room. Like the Stenographer’s Chasm, it’s long, tall, and extends down into the ground. Instead of rails with desks and tired workers, this room is filled with catwalks leading to strange machines. Citizens queue in front of them and when it’s their turn, they step onto a pedestal in front of the machines, grab hold of two control handles and lean forward to place their heads in some sort of virtual reality display built into the arcade.

A screen above the player allows bystanders to follow the game. A citizen near me has just started: at first, the screen shows only a grid of red lines in a black void. Then, the grid bends and reshapes itself into a three-dimensional environment that resembles a ruined building. Several humanoid shapes appear in yellow and orange tints, like heat vision, but with a clear red outline to them. The player navigates the environment, seemingly flying, and moves towards the outlined targets. The targets start moving around, trying to evade the player, but eventually he catches up to one. It’s not clear what happens, but when the player bumps into the target, the red outline disappears and a score of one hundred appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. “Ha ha, got one!” the player exclaims. Another nearby player is already at a score of eight hundred, when one of the targets suddenly rushes at him, holding up some kind of long object. The screen goes black and the words ‘GAME OVER’ appear on the screen. “Damn it!” the man shouts. “I was almost at my high score!”

Something’s not right. The way the targets move – it doesn’t look like a video game character. Much too erratic and lifelike. And from what I’ve seen of the Combine so far, I doubt they would put effort into providing ground-breaking AI technology for their panem et circenses. The Vortigaunt’s words echo through my mind: ‘the hall of the unwitting executioners’. I can put two and two together, but I don’t want to. I refuse to believe that what I fear is true. People slaughtering their own, cheering while they do it – and without ever realizing what they did. Or, at least, I deeply hope they don’t.

I don’t want to stay here any longer. Watching these innocent people enjoying the Combine’s twisted games turns my stomach. I have to find Barney. But how can I simultaneously hide from the real Metrocops and try to get Barney to see me?

As I pace through the room, I notice a Metrocop eyeing me. It’s hard to tell with the gas masks, but it seems like his gaze is following me. Is he Barney or a suspicious guard? I try to act inconspicuous and wait for a signal. Suddenly, the Metrocop turns away and walks towards a door. He interacts with the locking mechanism and it opens before him. He throws another prolonged glance in my direction before stepping through, out of sight. I wait. The door doesn’t close behind him. I cautiously make my way to the door. It leads to some sort of backstage corridor, clearly a ‘staff only’ area. I can’t see the Metrocop. I look around the Arcade one last time, but none of the remaining guards seem to notice me, so I enter the corridor. It’s cold and dark, and my footsteps are loud on the metal floor. I arrive in a small room with one of those Combine consoles. The wall is lined with a rack containing dozens of small, deactivated drones whose purpose I can’t discern. I hear the door I entered through close.

“Hey, you!” I hear from one of the neighboring corridors. A Metrocop – the one I followed in here – enters the room. “Do you have your identification?” He menacingly steps towards me. Seems it wasn’t Barney after all. Tough luck. “You are not supposed to be in here. I need to see your identification.”

Well, I seem to have gotten myself into a sticky situation. The Metrocop is trying to drive me into a corner, drawing his stun baton. “Overwatch, restricted incursion in progress in sector 8. Permission to enact civil judgement?” he says to seemingly no one. There’s a short blip and a burst of static following his question. I’m not thrilled about the prospect of ‘civil judgement’, so I decide not to wait until he gets his answer from whoever Overwatch is. I place my hands on my head, feigning surrender, while I scan the exits. The corridor back to the main Arcade hall is sealed and I can’t tell where the others lead, so I’ll have to trust my instincts.

Either the Metrocop has received his permission from Overwatch, or my eyes darting around the room have made him suspicious, because he suddenly swings his stun stick at my head. I try to duck and the blow lands against my elbow, sending a shock through my entire arm as blue sparks fly from the weapon. In response, I kick at his shin as hard as I can. He grunts and loses his balance, and I take the opportunity to dart down the nearest corridor. I hear the Metrocop’s heavy boots give chase behind me as he mumbles a status report to Overwatch. I round a corner, praying I won’t run into a dead end. I see a T junction ahead. Suddenly, I hear a deafening bang behind me, and the sound of a bullet hitting metal. Damn. He has a gun. I have to reach the junction as fast as possible. No time to look which way to go. As the echo of the gunshot fades out, I speed off into the left corridor just before another bullet plunges itself into the wall.

Suddenly, my surroundings open up into a larger room that’s two thirds Combine architecture and one third concrete rubble, remainders of whatever building was here before they installed their Arcade. I could get out through the collapsed walls and floors, but I’d be an easy shot. There’s also what looks like a Combine elevator with a bright red button inside it. I have milliseconds to make a decision. How far behind is he? Can I pull it off?

I slam my fist into the red button, rush back out of the elevator and then dive behind a half-collapsed wall. The doors close and the elevator starts to rise as I flatten myself against the concrete, bent rebar poking into my shoulder. My left arm is numb from the shock of the baton. I hear the Metrocop charging into the room. I hold my breath and pray he falls for my trick. It’s a trick as old as time. He stands still and I wait, my heartbeat ear-deafening.

“Subject is headed for top floor, secure perimeter around elevator.” I have to keep myself from sighing in relief. He isn’t gone yet. In fact, he seems to just stand still in front of the elevator. He must be waiting for the elevator to reach its destination. If he waits for the top floor units to report an empty elevator, my cover is blown.

“Copy,” he says. My functional right hand grabs hold of a loose chunk of concrete near me. I hear him walk a few steps, and then a couple of beeps. “Elevator power disengaged. Heading to your location.” With that, he walks out of the room, and I can finally breathe again. They don’t know the elevator is empty yet. They think they have me trapped in an unpowered elevator. Now to finally get out of here.

Easier said than done, as it turns out. The ruins are a concrete maze, and I constantly have to watch my step. It doesn’t help that the rain that seeps down through the broken ceilings makes everything slippery. The downpour has changed into an outright storm: the water beats down loudly on the concrete and every now and then a roaring thunderclap tears through the sky. Meanwhile, I guess the Metrocops discovered I wasn’t in the elevator after all, because I suddenly hear the cold, disembodied female voice – Overwatch, I assume – echo through the air once more: “Individual, you are charged with anti-civil activities: 63 criminal trespass, 148 resisting arrest, 243 assault on Protection Team. All local Protection units: code alert: locate, contain, prosecute.”

I spot one of the lambdas painted by the resistance group on a pillar. It leads the way down a slope of collapsed floor into a sub-street level area. Knowing the Metrocops are looking for me again, I try to speed up my pace a little while heading down – a mistake. The wet rubble gives way and I lose my footing. The world spins around me as I slide and tumble down the slope. I try to shield my head with my arms. I roll over the floor after reaching the bottom before coming to a stop.

I lie on my back as my surroundings come back into focus. I’m in some sort of underground sewer chamber: I see a ladder on the wall leading up to a manhole cover and there’s a grate in the ceiling through which light and rain pours down in a small waterfall, though the ground I lie on is thankfully dry. I do a quick damage report: my palms are chafed and I’ll undoubtedly have a few bruises, but no lasting damage. I’m lucky I didn’t hit my head on any of the protruding edges of the concrete.

I become aware of a sound, just barely audible over the storm. It sounds like a fire – no, more like a flamethrower. At the same moment, I notice the dancing orange light on the brick wall, and my nostrils are assaulted with the stench of burning flesh. I immediately jolt up. Pain shoots through my back at the sudden movement. I look around and immediately spot the source of the sound: there’s a Cremator standing on the opposite side of the room. The two lanky, leathery-skinned arms sticking out of its brown robe carry a heavy flamethrower which, I notice for the first time seeing one up close, is connected to a spherical fuel tank in the middle of its stomach with a thin tube. ‘Flamethrower’ might be an incorrect word, however. Instead of producing flames, it shoots the green particle jets I also noticed being used to clean trains in the station. It must be some sort of corrosive liquid that only affects organic matter. The source of the orange light on the walls turns out to be a burning pile of charred flesh being sprayed by the Cremator. The flesh is being set ablaze by the green particles, but not only that: where the jets hit the flesh directly, it seems to blacken and disintegrate. Despite the fact that the corpses have turned black as coal and have been turned into an amorphous, ever-shrinking pile, I can still make out just enough to see that these were once people.

The Cremator stops what it’s doing and turns its white, oval head towards me, alerted by my sudden movement. Its tiny, expressionless eyes lock onto me. I hear mechanical breathing from the Cremator’s mouth-tube as it steps closer. It tilts its head like a curious animal before it points the nozzle of its weapon towards me. I could try to run, but I doubt I could get far enough to evade the scorching cloud. I briefly wonder if I should not have moved an played dead. It probably wouldn’t have saved me from being disintegrated.

“Cremator! Stand down!” A Metrocop charges in and stands between me and the Cremator. “This prisoner is property of Civil Protection and is to be transferred to Nova Prospekt for processing.” The Cremator tilts its head again, then turns around and returns to its previous work. The Metrocop turns around to face me. I should be worried, but I’m not. Despite its distortion, I have already recognized his voice. I once again hear the click of the mask detaching and am greeted by Barney’s smug grin. I’ve never been happier to see that stupid grin.

“So Gordon, is this what you call ‘not drawing any attention to yourself’? You’ve got practically every Metrocop in the sector looking for you!” He reaches out and grabs my arm to pull me onto my feet. The numbness from the stun baton is almost gone, though it now hurts from the fall instead. As I rub my elbow, I glance at the Cremator. It seems to be minding its own business, but I don’t feel comfortable hanging around near it much longer, and I wonder if it’s a good idea for Barney to unmask himself and be so friendly with me in its presence. Barney follows my gaze and says “Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother us again. They’re not too bright, these Cremators. Mindless synths. They were made to be janitors, primarily. Destroy biological waste, contain the Xen infestation…” He looks down at the charred corpses grimly. “… clean up after the Civil Protection patrols.” He beckons me and starts walking. “The reason he was about to disintegrate you is because you are not a registered citizen or Combine unit. So to him, you would have to be either a Xenian creature or a very lively corpse. Either way, you were considered ‘unauthorized biological mass’ and had to be disposed of.”

We enter an underground utility tunnel. The sounds of the storm fade away as we follow the cables and pipelines down the dimly lit corridor. “You’re lucky I found you,” Barney remarks. “Those Immolators of theirs can give you a nasty burn. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you at the Arcade, I was held up by unforeseen complications on my shift. I had just gotten back to Dr. Kleiner’s lab when I heard the local CP units go crazy over some guy causing trouble at the Arcade.” He flashes me a smirk. I tell him what happened at the Arcade, with the Metrocop I had thought was him. “You got baited,” he replies. “Some CPs will bait citizens into breaking rules, like trespassing, just so they can enact some civil judgement.”

We march through the underground network in silence for a while before I cautiously bring up Jeremy. Barney sighs sadly and lightly shakes his head. “Yeah, I heard what happened.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly choosing his next words carefully. “Listen, Gordon… don’t worry about it, okay? I can probably pull some strings to make sure he turns out okay.” He doesn’t sound all that certain. “Either way, don’t blame yourself. Each of us knows the risk in what we’re doing. We’re all prepared to... go all the way for our cause.” I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Barney is being uncharacteristically serious and grim. This is not the same man I knew before Black Mesa. Then again, the same goes for myself.

His face lightens up again and he slips back into his usual grin when we go down a side tunnel with another lambda, at the end of which is a short staircase with a metal door. “Well Gordon, looks like we’re finally here.” He opens the door and the sound of machinery pours out. Not harsh, loud and aggressive, like the Combine factories, but light beeps and clicks over a soft hum. A familiar sound that invites me inside. The sound of science.

_____________________

Consul screens

Stenographer's Chasm

Piston hall

Cremator factory

Manhack Arcade exterior + Citadel

Manhack Arcade interior

Cremator

Underground

And for the first time, there aren't just images for reference, but also sound: here is the original Vortigaunt voice.

As always, really excited to share this new chapter of Anticitizen with you. We've finally reached Kleiner's lab, so from now the story will start picking up pace. And as always, please let me know what you think :)

#anticitizen #half life #half life 2 #half life 2 beta #my writing #fanfiction #gordon freeman

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trashyswitch · 4 years ago

Text

The Strangely Modified Robot

Remus and Virgil (mostly Remus) come across Logan who looks like he'd been quite busy with making a robot of some kind. Remus and Virgil follow Logan to his room to find out what it is.

This prompt was suggested by that EEF anon that has written to me a few times! HI EEF! I hope you enjoy the fanfic! And I also hope this still counts as a machine!

Virgil groaned as he was pulled all the way to Logan’s room by Remus’s strong grip. He was too tired to deal with this today. But, he made the mistake of letting Remus into his room and now; he’s gotta suffer through hours of gorey, stressful ‘playtime’ with Remus. Maybe Remus could compromise by giving him a dozen bat-spider sidekicks?

But everything screeched to a halt as Remus’s eyes fell on a nerd in his usual black shirt carrying tools, broken wires and a tire. Virgil’s body and face hit Remus’s back, halting Virgil upon impact.

“Hiiiii Logan! What are you up to?” Remus asked. He walked closer and pointed at one of the items. “And what’s with the tire?”

Logan smiled and started walking past them. “I’m making a robot. Would you like to see?” Logan told him.

Remus gasped and clapped his hands. “Would I?!” He replied excitedly, following Logan. Virgil groaned, but smiled and started to walk away.

“COME ON VIRGIL!” Remus grabbed his arm and pulled the emo along with him. Virgil yelped in surprise as he was literally dragged along for the ride. Logan had walked back into his room and placed his tools in a storage cabinet hidden in his closet. While Logan was doing that, Remus let Virgil lay onto the bed and sat down in the blue comfy chair in the corner of the room. “So: a robot?” Remus teased. “What kiiiind of robot?” Remus asked, leaning his chin on his palm.

Logan looked at Remus with a somewhat forced smile and grabbed the robot. “A car.”

Remus tilted his head as he looked at it. It...looked like a typical remote control truck. To be specific, it looked like a Monster Truck the size of a forearm with overly large wheels attached to it. It was...different.

Remus didn’t strike Logan as the monster truck type. He could imagine Logan with a James Bond kind of car, or maybe a police car.

But a monster truck? That was completely out of Logan’s comfort zone!

Remus carefully poked the monster truck with his finger. “Where did you buy this?” Remus asked.

“Best Buy.” Logan replied.

“Okay.” Remus picked it up and looked at the bottom of it. “Why a monster truck? You don’t look like a monster truck kind of person.” Remus admitted.

Logan chuckled. “I’m not. But, a monster truck was preferred for this specific type of machine.” Logan told him.

The nerd pulled out the remote control that was connected to it through bluetooth, and started clicking buttons. Suddenly, the wheels started spinning and turning! Remus quickly put it down, and watched as the truck drove around. “I’d like you to lay down and sit still, please.” Logan told Remus.

Remus tilted his head, but quickly laid himself down.

Using its wheels, the monster truck climbed itself up Remus’s belly and drove up the chest.

“Hehehehey! Ihihit tihihicklehes ahaha lihihihittle!” Remus giggled.

Logan couldn’t stop himself from smiling at that reaction. He brought the monster truck up the middle of Remus’s chest, and stopped it.

“What-” Remus lifted his head up, accidentally triggering a ‘scanning mode’. Remus widened his eyes and watched as the truck grew a helicopter propeller and lit up Remus’s face and chest with a darker blue light shining from its front headlamps. The truck flew backwards and scanned Remus’s body from head to toe with the dark blue light.

“Oooooh! Is it scanning me?” Remus asked.

Logan nodded. “Mhm! It is.” he replied.

Logan clicked one last button and watched as the helicopter lowered itself and landed on the ground. Then, Logan smiled and watched as the body scan revealed some sort of image on the roof of the truck. It was a reference image of a body from skull to the bottoms of the feet, and different colors had started highlighting the different spots on the body image.

Logan smiled at this. “Well, would you look at that:” Logan clicked the button to open its propellers and let it fly up and above Remus again. “You seem to be very sensitive.” Logan reacted.

The monster truck flew itself a little lower and started growing up to 10 separate thin arms with joints. Remus widened his eyes and let out an “Oooooh!” sound in curiosity. The 10 arms started lowering down to Remus’s body and focused on places like his sides, his armpits, his belly, his hips, and his abs.

“What are these supposed- GAHAA!” Remus threw his head back and guffawed in surprise as a two-second shocking, vibrating feeling from two of the arms, started zapping his sides. Logan walked up to Remus, put the remote control down beside him and pinned Remus’s arms above his head. “Wait, WHAT?! LOGAN! LET-!” Remus squealed and immediately started tugging as the ten separate arms zapped and prodded his ticklish spots. Virgil sat up and looked to where the danger was. But he quickly dropped his jaw as he stared at the confusing, yet somewhat amusing scene happening right beside him in the very same bedroom.

“Whahahahat IHIHIHIS thihihihihis?!” Remus asked.

“This is a Tickling Truck. It’s a monster truck modified with stimulating modules meant to stun and/or tickle you depending on your preference choice.” Logan told him, looking at the switch that had 3 settings it could switch to: Tickle, Stun, and Energize.

Virgil looked at the weird helicopter truck with thin arms poking and tickling different spots.

“The Tickle Truck is capable of scanning people’s sensitive areas, climbing around with its wheels and arms, and is capable of tickling people no matter the position the ticklee is in.” Logan further explained. “For example:”

Logan let go of Remus’s arms, picked up the truck’s controller and started clicking a couple buttons. Quickly, the arms stopped zapping and folded themselves into the shape of spider legs. The helicopter propeller shut off and went back inside the truck roof, and the truck started crawling like a spider towards the bed.

Virgil widened his eyes and yelped in horror. It was heading right towards him! But part of him wondered if the spider legs were even sturdy enough to climb the bed. But Logan smiled and watched in humble confidence as the arms grew claws at the ends and crawled all the way up Logan’s galaxy comforter.

“UH- LOGAN! I DON’T KNOW IF THIS IS-” Virgil warned, growing terrified. But once the truck was stable on the bed, the legs returned inside the truck and started driving towards Virgil. The emo tensed up at first, but still allowed himself to look at the truck.

...The truck’s windshield lit up and showed Virgil a white smiley face.

Virgil’s fear slightly lessened at that. But...why was it smiling at him?

Virgil watched nervously as the truck’s windshield displayed a message:

[Hi!]

Virgil stared at the message before looking at Logan. Logan was smiling and had a little pull-out keyboard attached to the remote control. Logan typed some more to the message:

[Are you scared?]

Virgil read the message and bit his lip. He nodded his head at Logan. Logan nodded and typed another message for the truck.

[I don’t have to tickle you]

Virgil read it and softened his expression. The words erased and new words showed up:

[-If you don’t want it.]

Virgil looked at Logan and slowly started to smile. Logan smiled as well and typed one last question:

[Do you want to be tickled?]

Virgil looked at Logan with more and nodded.

Logan beamed with excitement at seeing Virgil consent so quickly. He typed one last thing:

[I’ll start off light! :) ]

Virgil giggled and watched with wonder as the Tickle Truck drove up and rested its front wheels on his feet. The truck’s propeller was removed from the truck again and started spinning and raising the truck up. The truck’s dark blue headlamps started lighting up, and the truck started processing all the data it was presented.

It didn’t take long for the truck to scan everything. The body image relit up with new ticklish spots highlighted for the robot to follow as a reference.

Suddenly, the truck’s arms started removing themselves out of the truck. But this time, only 4 arms removed themself to start! The arms moved closer and closer to his belly and his ribs. Virgil couldn’t help the giggles that poured out of his mouth from anticipation. Here it was! It was finally happening! Aaaaand-

Virgil jumped and giggled a little hysterically from the first two zaps. “Thihihihis ihihihis soho weheheihihiHIHIRD!” Virgil giggled. The closer the arms got to his belly, the more hysterical his laughter became.

The zaps didn’t even feel like the type of tickles you’d get from the usual tickle tools! Not even a massager was capable of replicating this kind of zapping feeling! It was like a spark was touching you, and leaving you stunned. But because it was zapping your ticklish spots, it tickled you even more than you’d ever expect from a zap! It was almost like a robot was making your tickle spots more ticklish through every zap that hit him! The more times a specific ticklish spot was zapped, the longer your giggle fits lasted!

“Hahahahahahahehehehehehe! LOHOhohohohogahahahahahan! Cohohohome ohohohohohon!” Virgil laughed and begged.

Logan widened his eyes and quickly stopped. He was so scared he may have overdid it and broken his original promise of a light start! But Virgil seemed to enjoy being put into a giggly mess. Logan smiled as he noticed the light blush on Virgil’s face. His thoughts about the blush quickly reminded him of something else he added to the car!

“Do you want me to show you something?” Logan asked.

Virgil and Remus both looked at Logan and nodded. “Okay.” they both said.

Logan clicked a button and watched more arms rise out from inside the truck. Logan clicked a button on the top of the controller with his index finger. Suddenly, the ends of the arms sprouted little feathers and makeup brush heads of different shapes!

“Ohoho NOHO!” Virgil yelled, covering his eyes and shaking his head in fear and embarrassment. He even installed TINY BRUSHES AND FEATHERS?!

Remus bursted out laughing upon seeing such small tickle tools. “How in the hell are you gonna tickle ANYONE with those?!” Remus asked.

Logan looked over with a smirk. “Do you want me to demonstrate?” He asked.

Remus guffawed. “Just try me, nerd!” Remus replied confidently.

Logan smiled contently and started controlling the joysticks. “Okay.”

The truck drove itself right off the bed, and landed perfectly on the hardwood floor with a break-resistant thud. Then, the truck drove up to Remus and pulled the tools back inside the robot’s thin arms. The truck’s transporting strategy changed from driving to spider crawling in mere seconds, terrifying the mustache man. And before Remus could even attempt to flee, the Tickle Truck had reached his feet and brought out its helicopter propellers. With the push of a few buttons, the truck flew itself up, got the tickle tools to sprout from the arms and started zapping and tickling his feet with the tools and stimulators.

Remus shrieked and shouted in surprise at just how much it tickled! “WHYHYHYHY?! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus laughed hysterically.

Logan clicked his tongue a few times. “You shouldn’t have questioned my tickling abilities~” Logan warned Remus in a teasy tone.

Remus tried dragging himself away from the devilish Tickle Truck. But the arms just reached out further to continue their tickle attack! Remus quickly just gave up, and started pounding his fists into the hardwood floor. The mix of soft brushes and stimulating zapping, as it turned out, was so much more ticklish than he ever imagined!

And Remus: Well...he was absolutely losing his mind!

“LOHOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIT!” Remus begged helplessly.

Virgil was just smiling as he watched. “Funny...you’re capable of going really light and soft with your truck invention. And yet, you’re also able to completely destroy confident people like the creative twins.” Virgil elaborated.

“Indeed I am.” Logan told him, before showing him the controller. He pointed to the sliding switch. “This switch tells the Tickle Truck just how intense to make the tickles.” Logan explained. “With you, I kept the tickles a lot more low.” Logan pointed to the near-bottom of the sliding switch to show where he had it at the time. “And now:” Logan brought his finger up to where the switch knob was sitting now: near the top.

Virgil laughed. “It’s not even completely at the top!” Virgil reacted.

Logan giggled with him. “I know.”

While Remus was laughing up a storm, Logan decided to add one more thing to he mix:

“These claws aren’t just meant for climbing things…” Logan admitted.

Logan clicked the top left button and allowed the ends of a few of the arms, to switch from the brushes to the claws. Then, Logan used the claws to pull the toes back and used the brushes to tickle under and between Remus’s toes.

Remus SCREAMED super loudly and pounded the ground like a maniac! He let his head finally hit the floor and allowed his laughter to fall completely silent.

Logan widened his eyes and looked at Virgil with surprise. “Wow!”

“I think someone’s toes are speechlessly ticklish.” Virgil joked.

Logan’s face fell a little at that joke, but still had a smile on his face. “Not bad...for improve, anyway.”

Logan clicked the buttons for putting the arms and propeller away. With the propeller back inside, the truck quickly fell to the ground and bounced on its rubber wheels. Then, Logan turned it off. The truck powered down and sunk down slightly.

WIth the truck turned off, Logan picked up the Tickle Truck and put it onto a shelf for personal admiration and storage all in one. “There. Perfect for future surprise attacks.” Logan declared.

Virgil smiled and stood beside Logan. “It really is.” Virgil added.

Logan crossed his arms and stared at the truck and at the controller that came with it. “And of course, I could use it like a regular remote control car with extra little features.” Logan added.

Virgil giggled at that. “Mhm. You can.” Virgil replied.

Logan admired his work for a good while. He felt accomplished that it worked so well. He felt happy that nothing malfunctioned while it was in the testing phase. And lastly: he felt honored that Virgil and Remus wanted to ask about his robot and be the guinea pigs.

“aaAAAH!” Logan jumped, dropping the remote control.

Virgil bursted out laughing and patted his shoulder. “I’m just playing!”

Logan grumbled in slight annoyance as he picked up his controller. Evil emo...he poked him while he was focusing on his invention.

Virgil giggled and continued to poke him just to annoy him. By the time Virgil had successfully started up a revenge attack on him, Logan was doubling over and trying to keep his giggles from coming out…

Remus was now laying on his back, enjoying the view with a bag of conjured-up popcorn in his hands. In his view was an evil Virgil tickling and teasing Logan from behind, while Logan laughed and squirmed in the emo’s grip.

To make things even better, Remus put his popcorn down, got himself up and grabbed the remote control truck and remote. Much to Remus’s convenience: the buttons all had 1-word labels taped onto them to show what button did what action. So it didn’t take long for Remus to get the truck going again and for Logan’s laughter to get even louder.

Aren’t tickle fights fun?

#machines #toy truck #ticklefic #ler!tickletruck #literally a toy truck as a ler #switch!virgil #switch!remus #switch!logan #fluff

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ofwolvesandbutterflies · 5 years ago

Text

natural sweetener

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x Reader

Genre: tsp of fluff, tsp of angst

Tags: unrequited!au, domestic!a

Warnings: none

day 21 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: in which baking brings you back to him

// there's a room in my heart with the memories we made // (x)

[20:30]

A cup of packed brown sugar. Three-quarters cup of granulated sugar. Shortening. Vanilla extract. Eggs. Your hands went about in a thoughtless blur, adding all the ingredients into the large mixing bowl. On went the handheld mixer to a medium speed and you watched as the dough began to take on a beautiful mocha shade. Beautiful mocha shade. Just like Donghyuck. A tired smile spread across your lips as thoughts of the boy you cared much too much for began to invade your mind yet again. You had been doing so well, too.

The first time you met Haechan was late at night. Well, not late persay, but still quite late to be baking.

He had knocked, one, two, three times on the sturdy wood of your front door before waiting patiently for you to answer. Both he and a couple other of his friends had moved in a couple weeks ago, but other than the first batch of cookies you had welcomed them briefly with, there were seldom other times you ran into them. You remembered well the astonishment on your face when he explained his dilemma because who in their right mind would want to bake cookies at 8:30 in the evening?

Nevertheless, you led him inside, towards your freshly cleaned kitchen. How many? you asked.

I have no idea, Donghyuck chuckled in response. They just told me we needed eggs and that we didn’t have any. My two options were going 4 blocks to the convenience store, or coming to you. And I remember you made these really, really good chocolate chip cookies when we first moved in... he paused to look hopefully at you. So… I was kind of hoping you would know…?

A shy grin appeared on your lips when he mentioned the welcome gift you had brought them. You liked them?

You kidding? Donghyuck scoffed, leaning slightly against your stove. They were GONE within the first 10 hours you brought them.

All three dozen of them?

All three dozen. He watched, as you bent down in front of him, cheeks warm as you fumbled about, searching your refrigerator for the eggs. Donghyuck was a simple type of attractive. That moment you first opened the door, a different type of thrill ran through your body, much different than what you had felt with other guys. He had greeted you with a kind smile, an oversized shirt, a head of messy hair, and a pair of glasses perched on the edge of his nose. A triumphant ‘aha’ came from your lips when you finally found the eggs and you shoved the thoughts of him from the forefront of your mind. You turned towards your neighbor, producing the carton of a dozen eggs in front of you.

How many cookies are you planning on making?

Uhmmm… enough for 4 grown men?

So... You pulled out 2 eggs, a giant, mischievous grin slowly spreading across your cheeks. Assuming you’re putting like 3 and a half cups of chocolate chips… I think 2 eggs will suffice.

The electronic whirring of the machine in your hand did little to block out the onslaught of memories the two of you had shared. Ghosts of his infectious laugh rang through your ears as you switched the mixer off. Into a separate bowl went the 2 and a quarter cups of flour. A teaspoon of salt. Another teaspoon of baking soda. You gave it a quick whisk and poured a portion of the dry ingredients into the sugar - egg - extract - combination. More tears trickled down your chin and into the mixing bowl as you remembered the way his eyes turned into small crescent moons when he laughed, when he smiled, when he got excited.

Y/N! Donghyuck ran into your kitchen, his spare key in one hand and a clear container of cookies in the other. He stopped a mere few inches away from you, holding out the container, sounding out of breath but more than excited. I actually think I did it this time. I added a tiny bit less baking soda and salt this time and took them out between nine to ten minutes… so I think I got it.

Since that fateful night a couple months ago, your handsome neighbor had been coming every weekend in the late evening, never failing to produce for you a dozen, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. The first weekend had been tough and you had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with Donghyuck adding a tablespoon of both salt and baking soda instead of a teaspoon. But you finished the cookie anyways, forcing a smile to your lips so to soften the blow when you told him… awesome first try! Although… something’s not quite right.

Somewhere between those first couple of taste tests, you began to look forward to each of his weekly visits. Perhaps it was the way Donghyuck’s smile seemed to make the dim incandescent bulbs in your kitchen shine a little bit brighter. Perhaps it was the way he’d watch you carefully as you explained carefully what your process was and how he could better his cookies. Perhaps it was in the way he laughed, a sound of pure joy, when you got flour on your shirt, when you tossed flour on his shirt. Perhaps it was the way the happiness you felt around him mirrored through his body language.

This batch was different. You could tell the moment you bit into them. They were the perfect amount of sweet, not too much shortening, just enough chocolate. A pleased hum left your lips and you smiled, throwing your arms excitedly around your handsome neighbor. Donghyuck laughed in surprise, wasting no time in wrapping his arms around you as well. These are perfect, you mumbled. And a part of you knew it wasn’t just the cookies you were talking about.

But now, a year later, you glared into the dough. Albeit the crumbly appearance, this was what they were supposed to look like. Into the dough went 3 cups - give or take - of a mixture of chocolate chunks and chocolate chips. You rinsed your hands, drying them thoroughly before kneading the chunks into the dough. Your anguish turned into bitter wistfulness as you recalled the way his visits became more and more infrequent until he stopped coming altogether.

What had Johnny - one of his roommates - said? Donghyuck had met a girl. Another girl. A prettier girl. A different girl. A better girl.

You rolled the dough out into balls, angrily wiping the tears from your face. What else had Johnny said?

Oh, right. Slipping the tray of dough balls into the preheated over, a stifled sob made its way past your lips.

Donghyuck baked for her, too.

a/n: let me know if you want my recipe for chocolate chip cookies XD

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loveafterthefact · 4 years ago

Text

Love After the Fact Chapter 24: Between One Strike and the Next, I See You

Keith’s actually a pretty good teacher.

Also, who could possibly have been yeeted across a training room? Gee, I wonder...

First Previous Next

Lance watches as Keith passively dodges the soldier’s attacks, hands clasped behind his back. It’s the soldier he’s been having issues with: Griffin. Griffin isn’t particularly awful or anything, but he’s arrogant, stubborn, and can’t seem to come around to the fact that Keith is not their enemy. Which might be why Keith seems to spend much of his time kicking Griffin’s ass whenever he has something he wants to demonstrate.

This quintant, he’s demonstrating how pathetic everyone is. Griffin’s been on the offensive for a good twenty doboshes now, and he hasn’t landed a single hit. It’s concerning because Griffin is perhaps their best officer.

“As you can see,” Keith calls, completely impassive. “When dealing with a larger opponent -you are all bigger than me, and most Galra will be bigger than you- you are likely much faster. One of the smartest choices you can make is to use that speed. Dodge their blows -they are likely stronger than you- and either wait for an opening or let them tire themselves out.

“A tired enemy is a sloppy enemy. Isn’t that right, Griffin?” Keith sidesteps, sticking out his foot and tripping his opponent. “And you’re dead.”

“I have killed… dozens of Galra… I can definitely… kill a little runt like you.” The Altean is gasping, dripping sweat. Keith is entirely unruffled, circlet level on his head, not a hair out of place, where it's knotted at the top of his head. It’s not the first time today Keith has chosen Griffin as an example.

“Prince. I am a prince. And thus far, it seems you can’t kill me.”

“I don’t understand,” another soldier says, stepping forward. “Who trained you? None of the enemies we have ever faced have your skill or control.”

Keith turns to the soldier, tail swishing. “I was trained Captain Takashi Shirogane, my littermate, captain of the Galran Imperial Guard, a private force known as the Blade of Marmora. I was a part of the Blades for two years before I gained my current station. His troops are elite, disciplined and trained beyond reproach. He trains with Prince Lotor’s generals.”

“So… You are one of these elite soldiers?” the soldier asks.

“I am not a soldier anymore. Now I am a warrior prince.” Keith holds out a hand to help Griffin to his feet, but the soldier ignores it, stumbling up on his own. The prince turns impassively back to his pupils. “You are all excellent soldiers. But you could be better. You have the potential to be the best this kingdom has ever seen.”

Keith finally catches sight of Lance leaning against the wall. Lance waves, not wanting to interrupt. Keith waves back. “Come join us! You could learn something too!”

Lance sighs, smile small as he joins his spouse, kisses his cheek. “Apologies, beloved. I’m not much of a swordsman. I just came to watch.”

“Have you ever received actual instruction, or have you only fought training bots?”

“Well… I had some basic training as a child, but it’s been just bots since then.”

“Hm.” Keith holds out a hand to the soldier he just spoke to, and the soldier hands over her sword without hesitation. Lance decides he likes this soldier, the one that’s kind to his spouse. Keith passes it to Lance. “A robot is not a person. It does not think as a person thinks, feel as a person feels. It does not feel pain. It does not feel greed, or fear, or bloodlust, or desperation. It does not feel an old injury that limits mobility. Its purpose is far too simple: offend and defend as its programming finds appropriate.

“People are too varied and complex to be substituted for by a machine. You’d do better getting your butt kicked by me than defeating a pile of metal and wires.”

“Well, getting my butt kicked by you seems far more likely and way cooler, so let’s do this.” Lance looks around as the soldiers step back to watch. He takes a deep breath and lifts the sword, taking a stance. Keith smiles. He admires Lance’s humor even when he lacks confidence.

“Is that how they taught you to stand?”

“I think so… I don’t remember.”

“Widen your feet… good. Bend your knees. Never, ever lock your knees. Or elbows, for that matter… good. Now, this is a broadsword. This particular type of broadsword has a longer hilt, so it can be used with one or two hands.”

“It’s heavy.”

“Yes, because it’s made for hacking people into pieces.” Keith stares into Lance’s eyes. Lance notices how bright they are right now. They burn like stars. “You don’t hunt game with a sword. A broadsword, like all other swords, was made for killing people. Specifically by cutting off limbs and heads.

“Now, to begin.” Keith draws his own blade, letting the dagger lengthen into a gorgeous luxite sword. “I’m going to come at you. I want you to either dodge or block my attack.”

Lance gulps, nods, takes a deep breath. Keith leaps forward, pounces, drives his sword directly at Lance’s head. Unsure of what else to do, Lance attempts to block, both hands locked around the broadsword’s grip. He looks away, flinching as the glittering blade draws near. Keith hits with such force, Lance is almost brought to his knees.

He turns back to his spouse, stares into violet eyes, his face reflected in yellow sclera. The eyes stare back, glinting, blazing with an intensity that Lance hasn’t seen since Keith first arrived here. Keith’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying contributing something. Letting Keith teach had been a very good choice.

“Good. But you flinched.” Keith draws away. “You flinched, your body twisted, you leaned back, and it upset your balance. You couldn’t have taken another hit. Let’s try it again. This time, hold firm. You chose to plant your feet instead of dodge. Own that decision.”

“R- right.”

“Take responsibility for the blood on your hands. It’s the only way you’ll ever live with it.” Keith charges again, and this time, Lance lifts his blade, stares into his spouse’s amethyst eyes. He does not flinch. This time, when their blades cross, Keith tries a second time, diving for his legs, and Lance manages to meet him again. “Excellent.”

Keith turns back to the watching soldiers. “See how easily improvements can be made? That was one strike barely blocked, then two strikes effectively blocked. All it takes is the right mindset.” Keith smiles, pokes Lance in the middle of the forehead. Lance chuckles. “And a sword. A sword helps, since your kind are so useless.”

“Hey!” Lance yelps. “That’s not fair!” The soldiers grumble assent.

“Look at you!” Keith teases, perhaps putting on a bit of a show. “Now sharp teeth. No retractable claws…”

“We can shapeshift,” Lance offers. “I bet I could turn the exact color of Dabazaal’s sand. You’d never find me.”

“I’d just walk by and give you a compliment and you’d get all sparkly. Then, I’d shoot you in the face.” While Lance blusters, Keith turns to the soldiers with a satisfied smirk. “We’re done for today. You all did well, and you are improving. Griffin, a word.”

Keith nods to Lance, steps away with the soldier. He looks the man up and down. Brown skin, brown hair, dark blue eyes, deep violet scales, gleaming iridescent red. Violet base with a red edge, he thinks. He’s learning a lot about quintessence and about the connection the Alteans have with it. “I want to use you for another demonstration quintant after tomorrow.”

“Yes, because you only ever use me.”

“You show a great deal of potential. If you can learn some humility, patience, and respect for people who are not your own, you will make a fantastic leader. That being said, if you do not learn, and if you continue to disrespect me, I will have you removed from our military faster than you can say ‘quiznak’. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Griffin grits.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Griffin bows, stiff, resentful.

“Then we have nothing more to discuss.” Keith turns on his heel, satisfied. “If you’ll excuse me, I think my husband wishes to speak with me.”

Lance smiles, kisses his cheek again once he approaches. He seems somewhat lackluster today. “Hey, beloved. You’re very good at teaching.”

Keith smiles, bashfully eyes the ground. “Thank you. I just… To be honest, I just say and do what I think Shiro would say and do. He’s the real teacher.”

“Well you’re doing a wonderful job.” Lance’s ears wilt a tiny bit, scales a little dull.

“What’s wrong?”

“We should take a walk.”

Keith takes Lance’s hand on instinct, squeezing it tight. The longer he lives at the Castle of Lions, the more deeply he finds himself attached. The more empowered he feels, despite being at the mercy of his enemies. He looks his spouse dead in the eyes.

“Lead the way.”

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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echo-bleu · 5 years ago

Note

You always address Alex’s disability so thoughtfully in your writing. “I wish you’d write a fic where...” Michael thinks Alex is blowing him off, but he’s actually at a medical appointment for his leg.

Thank you!! This is a great prompt, I loved writing it. I set out to write maybe 500 words, but as usual that’s not what happened. I hope you like it!

Wordcount: 2322

Also on AO3

Lunch at the Crashdown? Michael types out while getting ready for his day. It's Saturday, so Alex should be off work and they can finally have that date they've been planning. Michael wanted it to be yesterday night, but Isobel dragged him with her to the Wild Pony instead. She keeps doing that, to the point that Michael is starting to suspect his sister isn't going to that bar for the beer.

Not today, sorry, Alex answers after a few minutes.

Michael frowns. He and Alex have been going out for a couple of months now, in that weird limbo between friendly outings and dates where they stay in public to keep themselves accountable. It precludes anything but the chastest kisses, and then only when Alex doesn't freak out at being out in a homophobic town, but it has made them actually talk rather than fall in bed at the first occasion, so they've agreed to keep going.

But this is the third Saturday in a row that Alex has blown him off without an explanation. Michael doesn't understand. He doesn't often have his Saturdays free, since five days a week don't quite bring him the income he needs to keep up with his recently extended social life. But he's been picking up restoration jobs around town that pay much better than car-tweaking recently, so it's allowed him to take his weekends off.

And Alex doesn't want to have lunch with him.

Okay, he answers simply, sadness pinching at his chest. He doesn't bother to offer another option. Alex is allowed not to want to spend time with him, he supposes, and he'll see him tomorrow at Isobel's anyway.

He drags himself to his car instead, deciding that since he doesn't have a lunch date, he might as well do something useful with himself. He picks up some groceries at the store, then heads to the hospital, where he and Liz have been working at her lab since it was rebuilt.

Liz briefly looks up from her microscope to smile at him when he walks in.

“Hi Mickey! What are you doing here on a Sunday?”

“I could return the question,” Michael says.

“I didn't really have anything else to do,” Liz shrugs. She's been working a lot, both for her actual paying job and on their side projects. Max's resurrection, it turns out, is not an overnight thing, even once they figured out how to restart his heart. He needs to rebuild the huge amount of energy that he lost, and that means he's still in a coma, hooked up to machines Alex bought off the Internet and Valenti set up in his house. So, coupled with Rosa leaving town, Michael gets why Liz uses work to take her mind off things.

“I think Alex blew me off again,” he says.

“Alex? I just saw him,” Liz frowns, her eyes still on her microscope.

“Here?”

“Yeah, he had a gap between appointments, so he came to say hello.”

“Appointments?” Michael stops in the middle of setting up his station in surprise.

“Hm. PT or something. You wanted to see him?”

“I wanted to have lunch with him.”

“Alex never does Saturday lunches,” Liz says absently. “The last time he did, we spent the afternoon with Maria and Mimi and he was so exhausted I had to drive him home before we made it to dinner. That's why Isobel settled for Sunday brunches even though Kyle has to bail off every other week. I thought everyone knew that.”

At Michael's silence, she finally looks up. “Wait, you really thought Alex just brushed you off?”

Michael nods wordlessly. He feels like an asshole, suddenly. But then, Alex didn't tell him.

“Wow. Um, I feel like I shouldn't have just told you all this.” Liz bites her lip. “You didn't know?”

“It's okay,” Michael says, his heart in his throat.

“Alex doesn't like talking about this, but I don't understand why he didn't at least tell you−”

“It's okay, Liz,” Michael repeats. “I...I didn't ask. We haven't really talked about this stuff.”

“Well maybe you should. He could use another friend. Someone more available than me or Maria.”

Michael just nods and gets to work. Liz's words have triggered a hurricane in his head, and he needs to quiet it down. He longs for a guitar, but working is the next best thing. How has he missed so much of Alex's life? Even Isobel seems to know more about him than Michael, and yet he hadn't even noticed that Alex isn't really letting him in.

Grand declarations of love and epic sex are not the same as actual communication, but Michael thought they were finally getting there. After the mess with Maria−a fling that ended after just one kiss when Max died, but still hurt them all more than Michael ever wanted it to−it's taken him months to gain Alex's trust back, but he thought that was behind them now, that they were working on building a solid relationship. But how much is Alex still holding back?

They need to talk, Michael realizes. They need to talk before his head manages to spin this into anger and resentment. There could be some innocuous reason why Alex doesn't want to share his Saturdays with him, why he didn't tell him about his medical appointments.

Before he can change his mind, he types a text on his phone. Can we do dinner? I can come over with Crashdown burgers. They haven't done this yet, eaten at each other's place rather than a neutral public space, but maybe it's time. Michael can easily imagine that Alex doesn't want to spill out medical details in a crowded bar.

Alex doesn't answer for another two hours. Michael forces himself to work rather than spin out, until Liz drags him with her to have lunch with her father. Michael feels bad for imposing on their time together, but Arturo must feel how much he needs a distraction as well as his daughter, because he treats Michael to a mountain of food and a dozen different anecdotes about Liz's childhood.

Okay. I have beers. Michael stares at his phone for a moment, lost in thoughts, then sends a thumb-up emoji back.

“That Alex?” Liz asks kindly. She knows what's on his mind, of course she does. She and Michael have grown pretty close in nearly six months of working together in the lab and holding each other up after Max died.

“Yeah. I'm meeting him for dinner.”

“Good. You want to visit with Max until then? I've been trying to read to him in hope that it will wake him up, but it's a bit lonely.”

“Sure,” Michael accepts. It will give him something to do, at least. And he can't imagine what it's like for Liz, who has moved into Max's house to be able to look over him. She needs all the company she can get.

Max seems a little more responsive than two days ago when Michael last swung by. Valenti was able to wean him off the ventilator over a week ago, and he opens his eyes more and more often, though he can't yet talk. It's going in the right direction, at least.

A little before six, allowing for the drive to Alex's cabin, Michael goes back to the Crashdown to pick up the order he gave Arturo. He tries not to let his mind wander too much on the way, because he doesn't want to be angry when he gets to the cabin. He thinks of the positive instead. He's going to see Alex. Even after months, he still marvels that he can just take his car and drive to him, rather than have to imagine him half a world away, maybe in danger, always out of reach.

Alex greets him with a tired smile and, when he steps back to let him in, Michael realizes he's leaning on his crutches. His prosthesis is off, the leg of his sweat pants pinned up, and he's wearing an oversize Star Wars hoodie Michael knows he wouldn't be caught dead with in public.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Michael frowns a little.

“Yeah, just tired,” Alex answers. He drops back on the couch rather than offer his help with dinner, which tells Michael that he must be in pain, too. “Beer's in the fridge.”

“If you need to sleep or something, I don't have to stay,” Michael says, despite his instinct to smother Alex with care.

“No, it's all good. I do need to eat, and I miss you. Bring me water, though, please?”

Michael comes back from the kitchen with a beer for himself and a glass of water for Alex, and starts unloading the Cashdown paper bag on the coffee table, since Alex doesn't seem to want to move from the couch. “I got some milkshakes, I know you like to dip your fries,” he says. “Not that I'll ever agree with that.”

Alex snorts lightly. “Thanks. Sounds nice.”

“Alex, can I ask−”

Alex looks down at his hands. “Yeah. I've been waiting for you to ask for a while, actually.”

“Really? I didn't...I didn't want to intrude, and I figured maybe I was already asking for too much time with you. But I spent the day with Liz, and she said she saw you this morning−”

“No, no, it's not about you, okay? I want to spend time with you,” Alex stops him. “I'm sorry, I should have given a reason.”

“I'm not entitled to your time, even though I tend to forget it,” Michael says. “That's what Liz made me realize.”

Alex watches him for a moment, then nods. Needing something to do with his hands, Michael hands him a burger and arranges the cartons of fries between them. They eat for a while in silence. It's not an easy, natural silence, not quite, but it's not tense, either. Just expectant.

“I have back to back appointments every Saturday morning,” Alex explains. “Shrink, then PT, then the prosthetist every other week. They often run over lunchtime and I'm usually too tired to do anything else for the rest of the day.” He keeps his gaze firmly on his food, and Michael hates to think that he's ashamed. “PT's pretty brutal right now. We're trying out some blades, so it's a lot of running and jumping around. It makes me really sore, so that's why I have my leg off.”

Michael nods slowly. “I feel awful for thinking that you were blowing me off,” he says. At Alex's aborted huff of annoyance, he realizes that he's once again bringing it back to himself. Damn. He needs to start thinking before he talks. “I mean, thank you for telling me.”

“I didn't want to say yes to lunch and then show up late, or bail on you because I'm too tired.”

“I understand, Alex.” Michael reaches out almost by reflex, taking Alex's hand in his. “I get it, it's fine. I wouldn't have asked at all if I'd known. I'm realizing that I've never shown interest in your...health. It's not because I don't care, I do.”

“There's probably a lot we still don't know about each other, Guerin,” Alex says. Michael raises an eyebrow at the use of his last name, an old habit that Alex has given up for the most part. But it's an appropriate reminder of their history. “We missed ten years of each other's life. Just because I know your big secret doesn't mean we don't have anything left to share.”

“I want to share things, though,” Michael breathes.

“Yeah, me too. This,” Alex gestures to his leg, “It's hard. I don't want to...it's hard to let myself look vulnerable. Even to you. Especially to you, sometimes.”

“Especially?”

“You remember what you said, 'if anyone's gonna destroy me, it might as well be you'? Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't give you too much ammunition. Because when you lash out, you know exactly where to strike.”

Michael reels back from that, shocked. “Is this about something I said recently?” he asks.

Alex shakes his head. “No. Look, I'm not saying that to argue with you. I'm just...trying to show you where I come from. With my father and my brothers, and then in the Air Force...any vulnerability you show will be turned against you. So my default mode is to hide. I don't want to be like that with you, but you've done it before, too. You go straight for the throat when you're hurt.”

“Shit,” Michael mutters. “You're not wrong. I don't like that it's my defense mechanism, but it is. I can't help it sometimes.”

“I know,” Alex says with a sad smile.

“I can't promise that it will never happen again, but I can promise to work on it? Like...I don't even know how, off the top of my head, but there has to be a way. I−I want to say that things like your leg will always stay off limits, but−”

“You can't promise that, either,” Alex murmurs. “I get that, too. Maybe I just need to take a leap of faith and decide to trust you.”

Michael bites his lip. “Maybe we could meet in the middle?”

Alex meets his gaze, large brown eyes shining just a little, and he nods slowly. Michael leans closer, putting down his fry, and their mouth meet before he even has his hand around Alex's neck.

“In the middle, yeah,” Alex breaks their kiss briefly to shift into a more comfortable position. “Sounds good.” He crashes his mouth against Michael's again.

Michael closes his eyes. This isn't a problem solved, not even close. But they can work on it, and that's all he needs for now.

#roswell nm #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #liz ortecho #prompt fill #thank you so much for the prompt!#mine #echo's fanfiction

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badbookopinions · 4 years ago

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Starsight - Skyward #2, Brandon Sanderson

Oh, this was so much fun. I borrowed a copy from the library and only picked it up the last day before it was returned, and reading it on a timer plus the high-intensity action and adventure made it that much more enjoyable. If there was going to be a series I’d recommend to kids making the transition between middle grade and young adult books, it would be this one.

Featuring...

A completely different setup from the last one - we aren’t on Detritus anymore, and Spensa has in fact infiltrated a space station of the alien oppressors. It was certainly a risk to change from the formula that worked last time to such a different type of book - however, it worked.

Oddball and enjoyable side characters, such as The King Of The Gerbils pretending to be a regular dude while being waited on hand and foot, a two-month old anxious mess labelled a rage machine, and an alien ambassador whose character had 180-degree switch in the middle I really enjoyed

M-Bot, who toes the line between annoying-to-the-characters and annoying-to-the-readers but never crosses it, and also has surprising emotional depth

I had hoped for more of her human friends - I really liked Cobb, Kimmalyn, Jorgen, and FM last time. But while I missed them, it never took my attention away from the book.

Some cool space monsters that were occasionally genuinely freaky

A rotten society with a veneer of peace it was really interesting to see brash, unsubtle Spensa have to go up against

Plot: typical fast-paced fun. As usual, Sanderson’s talent for action scenes shines, when even paragraphs of flight manoeuvres are explained clearly and can be easily pictured. This book is very plot-heavy: it feels like an action or adventure movie, in that we go from one event to another, with character and setting revolving around it. That’s not to say I got tired of it, though - the fast pace was exciting and the best way to do this book.

Characters: they’re all so funny, I often forget their depth. The best example of this is M-Bot, who starts wondering this book whether or not he’s a person. This subplot as he discusses it with Spensa is full of the typical humour of M-Bot screwing up social interaction and insulting humans, but there’s moments when he tries to fight his programming or reaffirms his friendship with Spensa (there’s one just before the climax that I actually got emotional over) that are so sweet. I enjoyed the new alien species we met a lot, though - Sanderson doesn’t fall into the pitfalls of making them a) humans but a different colour or b) so different to humans that the entire book turns into an anthropology lecture (to be fair I don’t have much of a problem with b but this is not even remotely the series for it). And Spensa is her excellent self - funny, aggressive, powerful without solving all her problems instantly. Still, you can see her growth throughout the series as she learns to be more careful and think things through, and that’s really great as well.

Setting: Sanderson’s worldbuilding excels as usual. I’ve always been impressed by his talent for visualizing worlds down to things we don’t normally think of - his Mistborn series is a prime example of that. The world opened up a lot more in this book, and while it wasn’t the focus of the story in the way lots of his books are, what we did learn was interesting, original, and clever.

Prose: the dialogue is funny, with moments of clever contemplation. For the first, there are dozens of examples, mostly between M-Bot and Spensa: my favourite is when Spensa proposes an elaborate plan and M-Bot responds, “Excellent. Would you like your corpse cremated or ejected into space?” For the second, there’s multiple conversations between M-Bot and Spensa about his humanity with moments I found really good - most of them need context or are spoilers, though, so I won’t post them.

Not-great things: I missed the people we’d met over the course of the first book! Once I got into the story, I’d liked it, but I had anticipated more fighter-pilot stories and wasn’t anticipating the different plot of this second one. As well, I felt the climax was trying to do to many things at once, and some plot threads didn’t land with the impact they should have because they were all shoved into too small a space.

#starsight #skyward #brandon sanderson #space opera #middle grade #young adult #humour #friendship

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70ships-moved · 4 years ago

Text

untitled | honeymoon suite

very brief summary: patrick can’t sleep. his solution? interview your boyfriend.

pairing: malcolm (oc) / patrick (s/i) | honeymoon suite

words: 2088 (yikes!)

notes: this is the very first fic i wrote about malcolm and it turned a year old like two months ago (wow! i didn’t even know that until now), i didn’t want to change or edit too much because this holds a special place in my non existent heart :), written in the pov of my s/i (first person)

Today I found a magazine with one of my idols (and celebrity crushes) on the cover in my nightstand drawer stashed away like a porno magazine. I remember the exact day I bought it too. I was at a bookstore and I saw it in the checkout area and the moment I saw who was on the cover, I made a mad dash for the checkout area. I did contemplate it though; the magazine was like twelve bucks which is stupid for something no one really buys but skims through and puts back. (When was the last time you bought a magazine? Man, wait until you hear about the internet.) But for who was on the cover, I was more than willing to pay the stupid twelve dollars.

Like any child that picks up a book, I looked at the pictures and read some of the interview. My only takeaway from the interview was that he liked this Bolognese recipe he found- or made himself. I didn’t read it all. He puts bacon bits in it, and he says it’s even good when cold. I took this magazine with me to school almost every day. I really liked the guy, okay? I’d show it to my best and only friend at school at the time who hated my obsession with him. It was weird because she was one of those friends who would always get an ugly boyfriend and would force you to compliment him- no matter how ugly you thought he was but proceeded to get mad at you when you were being honest about his looks. I could handle her opinions about this man I claimed to love but have never met in my life.

Four years later and I finally read the interview. It was a good read. The interviewer had nothing but nice things to say about him, mainly because he was and still is a sweetheart. And he only had nice things to say about the people he talked about. After reading the interview, I had something other than his good looks to admire. As far as I know, there isn’t a hateful bone in his body. When talking about his controversial relationship with his ex (long story short, the public wasn’t buying it), he said he only knew the girl he fell in love with and that’s saying something for a relationship that felt like it only lasted a week.

It inspired me to conduct my own interview with someone who I love just as much, my partner Malcolm. I’ve interviewed other people before rather awkwardly but this is Malcolm we’re talking about. He has walls. We all do. He's a bit on the reserved side but with the time I’ve spent with him, I’ve seen these walls come down. These demolished walls are my favorite part of him. I even went out of the way and got a recording device from a buddy who works in film. I like being extra.

It’s about 2 am. There’s this thing my body does where I just have to wake up at this time. It’s every day too. When this happens, I wake Malcolm up. He encourages me to do so because it is incredibly difficult for me to go back to sleep once awake. Also, it’s kind of boring being awake all by yourself. In these hours, I learned how to call from a private number (*67, for prank call purposes), learned useless but interesting facts about space and how sex can be one hell of a sleeping pill. Tonight, I wanted to do something different.

We’re sat in the kitchen area of the suite. The only thing separating us is the kitchen island. My recording device sits in the middle of us. Are you ready? “Mhm.” Great, I start with an over-the-top introduction of him. Ladies, guys, and people who don’t care what’s between their thighs, it’s two in the fucking morning and I can’t sleep but the man I’m sitting across from makes it all worth it. He’s got great hair and even great taste in men. He’s dating me! The man, the myth, future astronaut, and legend: Malcolm Hall! I feel like a podcast host. It’s a good feeling. “You’re so annoying.” That’s why he loves me.

I have a list of questions I wrote down in less than five minutes. They’re nothing special and I want this to be fun and not so serious. This man constantly throws himself at his work- spending endless hours at a desk. Serious is his middle name. When he’s not in his office, he’s at the bar talking to you about a film he saw with a margarita in front of him or playing blackjack with you and your coworkers. Maybe he’s in suite 505 kicking it with yours truly, telling me about his day while I struggle to put a face mask on his moving face. How are you doing? He chuckles. That fucking chuckle. “Tired. But I’m with you, so I can’t complain. How are you?” I’m not so tired but I can’t complain. You’re here.

I see you’re well-dressed for our interview. A bit too casual but you look good regardless. “Fuck off.” He says this in a whisper but it’s almost too quiet, it almost looks like he’s mouthing it. He’s in a bathrobe, his hair tossed from sleep; strands of it falling into his face. His face is resting in his palm as he looks at me with a tired smile, his eyes struggling to stay open. This is all unintentional, but I think this is extremely sexy of him. These small things have such a tremendous effect on me. They light the pit in my stomach and make me squirm in my seat a little. I’m messing. You look great as always. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.” I know. If I ever die in my sleep, I want to be in the best damn pair of silk pajamas there is.

The coffee machine makes a noise indicating that it’s done brewing his cup of caffeine. That’s a nice coffee maker. When did you get it? I’m going off-script. “This thing?” He taps the machine like the hood of a car. “It came with the room. The interior design people take care of that. I just run the place, so I don’t really know when it got here. But I do know that the other machines were really fucking old.” Oh, interesting. “Not really. You know, I was expecting you to give me much harder questions.” Really? Well, it’s important to expect the unexpected. “Now you’re scaring me.” Good. Part of me can’t tell if he knows I’m teasing him.

I’m not a coffee drinker like him but if it tasted as good as it smelt, then I could be. It’s a hazelnut blend. He mixes it with half-and-half and three scoops of sugar. His sips are slow and cautious. He seems to have bad luck with hot objects. He burnt his hand in a waffle iron one time and a dozen more times while preparing dinner. Maybe a hot object, liquid, or thing is the reason for the tape on his right hand. What happened to your hand? He looks up at me through his mug. “Masturbation incident.” By the way, I am madly in love with this man.

Do you remember when we met? This is a weird transition because it was on my list of questions and my timing couldn’t be any worse considering moments ago, I asked a question and the answer I received was masturbation. The question makes him smile though. He either remembers or he’s pretending to remember. “Yeah. Of course I do.” He takes both my hands, gliding his thumbs across my knuckles. I want dates, times, names, everything. “I don’t remember the exact date, but I believe it was March.” He’s correct. “It was at the hair salon and I booked an appointment with you.” He’s correct again. I cut his hair for free now- well, unless he’s pissed me off. Then, I charge him ten bucks. Twenty if I’m really upset.

Do you remember what time you showed up for your appointment? “Late. Very late.” He came in about two and a half hours late. I was pissed. “You were pissed.” He apologized profusely, and I still cut his hair. I remember it being soft and full. It still is. That's just one of the perks of having a hairstylist as a boyfriend. “I remember when you washed my hair. It’s my favorite part of you doing my hair.” I remember that too. The shampoo had a minty menthol smell. When it was on your head, it added a cooling factor and when you inhaled it, your lungs felt like winter. Basically, vapor rub for your hair.

He got lost in the way I massaged his scalp, his eyes closed and smiling. I can still hear his Yorkshire accent telling me “Tha’ feels good.” After I washed it, I blew it out and started cutting it. That’s when I told him his hair was soft. “Looking back on it, you kept your hands in my hair way too long.” It’s part of the job. “That’s what they all say.” He takes a long sip from his mug, his eyes not leaving mine. “Your hair was...interesting as well.” Interesting, in the way he’s using it, is slang for saying you don’t know whether you should like something because you’ve never seen it before. Back in the day, I’d dye my hair all types of colors. Shit, I thought I looked good.

“The Smiths played on the stereo and your singing was terrible.” That’s a lie. I’m not Morrissey but I try to stay on key. “I’m kidding. But when you moved around the shop, you were always swaying to the music. You were fun to watch.” He winks at me and my face heats up at the memory. I danced like no one was watching. “We talked and talked and next thing I knew, I was asking you out on a date.” The first date was meant to be memorable but due to one incident, I feel like our date was memorable for the wrong reasons. “We went bowling. I’ll never forget it.” I know why. “You slipped and fell in the aisle.” I was so embarrassed. Is that the only thing you remember? Whenever we talk about it, you always bring it up. “That’s how I break the ice. ‘My boyfriend and I went bowling and he fell in the aisle. It was our first date. It's nice to meet you.'"

I’m a little tired now, my eyes a bit heavy and my voice softening. He answered the first date question I had prepared, so I decided to move on to my last one. Have you ever been in love? “Yes. I’d say so. Are you or have you ever been in love?” I’m supposed to be asking the questions, but I answer anyway. Yeah. I am right now. It’s a funny feeling because I’ve never been in love before. “Really? Who with?” You. My eyes can’t take the weight and close. “Good answer.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

It’s a few minutes to 4 now. Our interview is done, and we’re ready for bed. We don’t go straight to sleep though. I listen to him talk some more with my head on his chest, his little chest hairs tickling my cheek. I begin to absently trace patterns across his chest. He says it tickles. His hand goes up my shirt, moving his hand up and down my back almost in a soothing rhythm. Sometimes, he stops, and I think he’s asleep, but I get the feeling that he realizes that I sensed he’s stopped and keeps going until I’m asleep. The hum of his chest when he speaks, combined with his hand and heartbeat is enough for me to call it a night.

His skin radiates a warmth that can’t be duplicated. His hands have a pattern like no other, each touch raising the hairs on my body. Despite it being hours since he’s showered, I can smell the scent of my cherry soap on him. This moment is something I never knew I needed and if it were to be taken away, I would be devastated. I close my eyes. I cannot think of any other place I’d rather be than here.

#puck.docx #💒 | honeymoon suite #self shipping #self shipping community #me getting ready to post this on my blog where ppl can read it: god i hope no one reads this #PLEASE i'm so embarrassed abt my love for this man that lives in my head #who pays NO bills i may add #a year later and i still can't come up with a title smh #ah and the person on the magazine was tom hiddleston who i still love to this day 😌#but fr i think this fic serves as a good introduction to this ship #it saves me the time of having to explain everything or at least that's what i think

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broken-clover · 5 years ago

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AU-gust Day 21- Professional Rivals (Very, very late)

...yeah. I am. Very behind. But I’m trying to work on it

I wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret this prompt. I ended up going with something a bit superhero-esque again, but a lot more lighthearted than the last one, sort of inspired by Dr. Doofenschmirtz and Perry the Playpus. Nothing too dark or serious, just kind of dumb.

Sin let the weight of his body more than anything else push the door open to his apartment as soon as he felt the lock click. He managed to avoid stumbling over and hitting the carpet face-first, but only barely. At least he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him in the state he was in. Though he did notice a pair of slip-ons by the door, which made his shoulders sag further with an emotion he didn’t have a word for.

“Hey, Mattie.” He called into the empty space, slumping against the door behind him. “I’m back.”

Soft footsteps echoed somewhere in the bathroom. “Sin? You’re home already?”

He managed to stand himself up again and take a few tentative steps, clinging onto the gash on his arm that had just barely begun to clot. “Yeah, ran out of tasks to do so they let me out early. Bridget on the night shift again?”

“No, he should be home in a few minutes, hence why I was so surprised it was you and not him.” Sin sat down on his bed and watched as the silhouette in the bathroom moved towards the doorframe. “He’s bringing pizza with him, though, so at least we have that to look forward-

The two of them paused in place, completely halted by the sight of each other’s state.

“...Wow.” They said, in perfect unison. “You look terrible.”

Sin ran a hand through his hair, immediately regretting it when he realized he was staining it with blood. “Hehe. Yeah, rough day at work today.”

“That looks remarkably painful.” Bedman limped over, a hand hovering over Sin’s cut arm. “You’re all scraped up...what happened?

++++++

Sin soared over the cityscape in a ball of lightning, sparks crackling off his skin in iridescent arcs. He wiped the blood running from his nose and tried to focus on the dark cloud hovering up ahead.

“You’re gonna have to hit harder than that to do me in, big guy!” He shouted over the rush of wind. With a few more sharp bursts, he was at eye-level with the peculiar contraption. “Brought a new toy today? Hope it’s sturdier than the one I trashed last week!”

His taunting was interrupted by a series of metallic clicks. A dozen or so little objects were ejected from the hovercraft, which unfolded into hovering metal discs that immediately began chasing after him.

“W-whoa- !” Sin shouted, barely managing to dodge their sharp blades.

“Don’t be getting cocky, dear Mr. Raiden!” A warped, mechanical voice resounded from the main machine. “You look so cute scared out of your mind!”

Sin grinned back at him. “Y’think I’m scared, Oneiroi?” He fired off another bolt, making one of them explode. “I’m just hoping these ones are an actual challenge this time!”

Heroics weren’t quite where he’d seen himself ending up, but he couldn’t have been happier. Saving the day, stopping the bad guy, and getting out a bit of extra energy. It wasn’t the most high-stakes hero town, he was the only one there, after all (and he couldn’t remember the last time Oneiroi had made a fully serious plan as far as he knew) but Sin was perfectly happy where he was.

Well, most of the time. In his distraction, a blade whizzed by, drawing blood and leaving a mark Sin didn’t even feel until a few moments later.

The remote drones immediately freezed in the air, bobbing harmlessly. “Oh- oh shit.” The electronic voice’s tone suddenly shifted, from aggrandizing and pompous to concerned. “That wasn’t supposed to do that. You okay?”

“Nggh- I’m fine.” He wasn’t done for the day, and he certainly wasn’t going to throw in the towel as soon as he’d gotten nicked! That was just pathetic, for both of them.

“Are you sure? I can give you a minute to sit down-”

Grinning under his mask, Sin grabbed the nearest drone and spun before hurling it right back at where it had come from, wreathed in electricity.

“Sit on this!”

++++++

“Bit of a funny story.” Replied Sin, grinning with a bit of cheek. “Was helping deliver another truckload of slate across the 4 & 15, and I guess they did a shitty job blowing up the tires or something, whole thing toppled right into some poor old lady’s backyard!”

His roommate seemed to find it much less funny, mouth opening in quiet shock before he uneasily sat down on the nearest bed.

“A car accident?? And you didn’t think to tell Bridget or I about this? Not even a text?!”

Sin threw up his hands, immediately wincing and going back to grabbing his arm. “Easy, man! I was fine, It wasn’t a big deal! Besides, you didn’t mention whatever happened to you.” He gestured to the other, a lot more carefully. “What’s with that ding on the back of your head? And why’s your wrist bandaged up?”

++++++

“DANGER. DANGER. SHIELD TAKING DAMAGE.”

“ -agh!” the projectile had managed to knock his ship’s gyroscope off a bit when it struck, throwing him into the far wall console. He winced at the sore, and not to mention wet spot on the back of his head when he went to touch it. He’d seen much worse, but it would definitely take a few days to heal.

He knew he was vulnerable, but a second hit didn’t come. “Uh, you okay in there?” A slightly muffled voice came through the speakers. “Too much?”

After making sure it hadn’t been damaged, Bedman patched through to the speaker system with his helmet. “Are you being facetious? That hardly scuffed my outer plating! You’re going to have to do better than that to damage- khh- ow-” He winced, immediately sitting back down as soon as he’d tried to prop himself up with his free hand. Had he twisted it? At least it wasn’t his writing arm…

“Seriously, need a breather?” The other said.

“N-no! I’m perfectly fine!” He managed to scrabble to his knees with one arm, clinging onto the control panel for support as he pulled himself up, panting with effort. He tried to grin wickedly. “But while you were distracted, Raiden, you have unwittingly lowered your guard! Take this!”

He slammed a fist down on one of the large, brightly-colored buttons (a bit cliche, but they were helpful for his astigmatism). The sound of rockets firing off was supposed to sound, but he found himself tilting his head at the silence.

“Uh...Oneiroi?” Raiden’s voice came through again. “Tech error?”

“No! No, I’m sure I just hit the wrong-” He smacked it again, but still nothing. “Um…”

A little sigh followed it. “Yeah, let’s- let’s take five, okay?”

++++++

“Well, erm, there was a bit of an incident down at the office.” He shrugged innocently. “Shiina asked me to refill the printer trays, and I thought it would be a good idea to bring the paper bundles up the stairs- you know, exercise and building muscle and all that- but I wasn’t as careful as I could have been, I suppose, and I...erm, fell down from the top step.”

Sin cringed. “Yikes. That’s gotta hurt. Definitely made a good call, wrapping it up.”

“And it looks like you should do the same.” Bedman walked off and came back with the first-aid kit and a wet washcloth, the latter of which he pressed against Sin’s arm. “Just sit still. So aside from that, was the rest of your day okay?”

“Yeah, totally, everything was fine. You?”

“I was having a bit of a rough patch, but I had a nice talk with one of the other coders, that was nice.”

“Oh, really?”

++++++

The front panel of the hovercraft had folded over into a neat little platform that now hosted a cooler and a foldout chair.

“You don’t drink, right? Lemon-Lime Fizz?” The villain asked, offering a can to his rival. Raiden continued to hover a few feet away, though in a perfectly comfortable lounge.

“Ooh, yeah, toss me that.” He cracked the can open as soon as it hit his fingers. “So what’s up? You seem out of it.”

Oneiroi tapped fingers on his helmet. “I guess I just feel a little off today. Didn’t expect you would notice.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, man! You’re my nemesis! I notice these things.”

He supposed that was true, and it was nice. He could remember nervously typing up a memo on Heroes4Villains.com (‘M25 evil engineer, coder and aspiring megalomaniac seeking monogamous hero rival, serious applicants only, please!) at a fellow villain’s behest. He’d never had a real nemesis, but he was happy having Raiden. A bit dense, but he was a skilled electromancer and he made for an excellent enemy to battle on a regular basis.

He thought a moment before speaking. “Am I not adequately menacing? I’m worried I’ve gotten...a bit out of practice, as it were.”

Raiden blinked in shock, before shaking his head and waving him down. “Nah, man! You’re totally menacing! Those new drones of yours were super scary!”

“You really thought so?”

“Yeah!”

“Maybe I should commit to the motif a bit more?” He pulled out a roll of blueprints and unfurled it. “I had a concept saved for an army of robotic sheep with laser eyes, but the outer casing was complicated and I wasn’t sure if it was too...what’s the word…’hokey?’ I’m no Terumi or anything but I’d like to avoid coming across as too silly, you know?”

“I get you, totally.” Raiden nodded. “I think a lot of villains aren’t into the whole ‘motif’ thing anymore, but I totally get wanting to have a theme. And those tend to be some of your most creative plots! Remember the time you flooded city hall with nightmare gas during the benefactor’s dinner? That was iconic!”

Oneiroi looked down at his blueprints again. “Perhaps I could give this model another go...I know I didn’t exactly have a whole plan thought out for next tuesday. Maybe I could use my laser sheep to kidnap the mayor…?"

The other man smiled in approval. “Sounds good to me! Mayor Whitefang sounded like he needed a break from desk work too, he could probably use another kidnapping-for-ransom. It’s been a while since you did that!”

As he went to say something, a light began to blink and beep on Oneiroi’s gauntlet. “I wasn’t expecting that to pop up so soon.”

“Got a call or something?”

“Promised I’d help another villain remodel their evil lair, I wanted to cancel but they couldn’t get anyone else to help out. Is it fine if I leave early?”

Raiden nodded again. “Sure, sure man, by all means. I get it. Uh, and this is why you never underestimate the power of the good guys?”

“Of course. Curse you, Raiden? I’ll beat you next time?”

++++++

“...Yeah. It was nice.”

“Well, guess it wasn’t that bad of a day after all!” Sin beamed, throwing his bandaged arm around his roommate’s shoulders as soon as he had finished. “And now, all we’ve gotta do is chillax and wait! Hopefully Bridget ‘ll be back soon with dinner.”

“I don’t suppose we would happen to be getting garlic knots, as well…?

“You know it!”

“Excellent.”

#AU-gust #writing #guilty gear #Sin Kiske #Bedman

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