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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

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chapter 20

Fake Making-It

Social Media AU

previous chapter

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Jens opens the door either a moment too soon or a moment too late. Sander and Lucas are already standing outside, as he’d thought, and are deep in conversation. Jens stands frozen in the doorway and waits for them to notice him. In that time, he takes in Lucas’s frown and Sander’s comforting hand on his shoulder. Lucas had been speaking before Jens opened the door, then he cut himself off abruptly.

Now they’re both staring at him. Silent.

Jens takes in the tension laced through Lucas and the frustration obvious in his face and feels nerves bubble up in him. He thought he had come prepared today, but now he’s doubting himself. He swallows as Lucas meets his eyes, but miraculously manages not to look away. They’re sort of friends, now, right? They’ve come a long way since their first meeting, at least. He doesn’t have to be so anxious. One simple look from Lucas should not tear his stomach to shreds.

It’s a little nerve-wracking, however, when Lucas slips away from Sander’s hand and brushes past Jens without a word.

Jens twists his head to look after him for a moment, then turns back to Sander and tries not to appear too awkward or concerned. “Everything okay?” he carefully asks.

Sander is still looking after Lucas, seeming pained, and then he looks at Jens and blinks. “Yeah, of course,” he smiles. “Sorry, we’re a little late.”

Nothing about this is very convincing. Jens wouldn’t consider himself a people expert, and he’s especially not overly familiar with Sander, but even he can tell that his smile is a little forced and his body strung a little too tight. He doesn’t think they were fighting. It didn’t even really seem like they were arguing.

But there’s definitely a shared tension between them. Jens doesn’t understand why this makes him simultaneously curious and more anxious.

“You’re fine,” he says, stepping back and beckoning Sander in, shutting the door behind him.

They’re using the front room in Jens’s apartment as a studio space. He hadn’t thought much ahead before offering it up, but Sander had barely paid attention when he first showed up and gave Jens no reason to fret. He hadn’t really cared what Sander would think either way.

He may have taken a little extra care this morning. (Or in the last hour, after waking up late and proceeding to rush around like a mad man.) Robbe may have raised his brows at him in teasing surprise when he showed up, and it may have made Jens feel even more silly for being so nervous.

But no matter how friendly their texts seem to have gotten, Lucas is still very intimidating.

Jens has no idea how they’re supposed to interact in person, and it doesn’t help that Lucas already seems to be in a rather dull mood. He isn’t sure why he expects Sander to continue to try to do something about it. Instead the blond lingers back with him as Lucas greets Robbe, smiling now as Robbe offers him a bro-handshake. Jens lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding at the sight, feeling a smile of his own grow as Robbe immediately strikes up a friendly conversation with the other man.

It’s not that he’d been nervous about Robbe, but well, he imagines that it isn’t easy. He doesn’t know how Robbe does it.

Lucas is already shrugging his bag off his shoulder and pulling out his sketchbook and his camera. Jens feels anticipation bubble in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey,” he greets, once they’re close enough, and to his delight, Lucas glances up and offers him something like a smile. “Everything good?”

Robbe nods as Lucas says, “Yep. Or, well, depends. What’s the plan?”

He looks to Jens for direction, and Jens forces himself not to stutter, instead simply turning to Robbe for help.

“Uh, well,” Robbe thinks, glancing between them all before finally settling on Sander. Jens hopes he’s the only one who notices how Robbe’s cheeks flush. “You don’t urgently need to work with Jens today, do you?”

Sander blinks at him, then quickly shakes his head.

“Okay, well I filmed a little bit of your shoot with Jens the other day, and I’ve been thinking I could edit it into like a promo to sort of announce things before we release the actual pics? But I was hoping I could maybe get your opinion on it first.”

“That’s a really cool idea,” Sander says, brightening. The smile on his face appears much more genuine than before. Jens supposes that’s what a passion can do. He hopes it’ll have the same effect on Lucas.

Robbe looks to Lucas and then to him, smiling as well. “That’s if you guys are happy enough to work this out yourselves? I’m sure Lucas knows what he’s doing, and I mean we’ll just be here if you want another opinion on anything.”

Jens raises his brows as Lucas glances at him.

Lucas offers Robbe a nod and a smile. “Sounds good.”

Jens notes that he doesn’t speak to or even glance at Sander as Robbe guides him to the small table in the corner while Jens and Lucas remain at the island. Jens hesitantly takes a seat, then gestures for Lucas to do the same, trying to remind himself to be both chill and professional. He’s usually able to manage it at meetings. Maybe it’s being in his home that makes it feel a little more personal.

“Hi,” he repeats, watching Lucas’s concentrated frown as he skims through his sketchbook.

Lucas looks up at him and seems, again, vaguely amused. “Hi.” He skims his gaze over Jens, tilting his head curiously. “Are you always this nervous?”

No, Jens thinks. Just with you.

“Sometimes,” he says.

Lucas huffs, smiling now as he looks back down. “Don’t be. I’m the one preparing to be criticised this time.”

“You were very intimidating last time we spoke.”

“Because I told you to watch it?” Lucas raises a brow at him.

Jens blanks, then remembers their text conversation from yesterday and flushes. “No, I mean, the last time we actually spoke. At the first meeting.”

“Ah.” Lucas nods. “In person. That usually makes me less intimidating.”

“Why?” Jens’s brow furrows.

Lucas raises his brows again and gestures at himself. Jens takes him in. His curls are as artfully styled as ever, falling over his forehead in messy waves, and below that his eyes are a stunning blue. He’s wearing another loose shirt, this time black with a light floral pattern. Jens can see the collar of a tee poking out underneath. Along with that, Lucas is wearing skin-tight jeans and shiny black boots along with his usual assortment of jewelry, rings adorning his fingers and silver bracelet glinting from his wrist. Jens wonders if any of them are gifts from Sander.

“I don’t get it,” Jens says. He means it. Lucas is beautiful. He looks like the true model here. It’s part of what intimidates Jens so much.

Lucas wiggles his fingers at him, showing off dark purple nails, then flexes a skinny arm. “Very intimidating, I imagine.”

Jens frowns. “You don’t need to be brawny to be intimidating. Honestly, I think I’m probably more intimidated by pretty people. Especially when they’re confident.”

Lucas stares at him for a minute, and Jens must imagine the flush on his cheeks, because then he snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, you basically just described yourself.”

Jens grins in surprise, but before he can say anything else, Lucas is spinning his sketchbook around and shoving it towards him, then digging back into his bag. Jens drags his gaze away and down to the paper in front of him. It’s littered in designs, different emblems and patterns interlocking across the double page. There are a few combinations of his initials, which he supposes also work well with a self-titled album. As much as Jens felt creative with words in the songwriting process, naming the songs and especially the album had been a frustratingly difficult task, so much so that he’d eventually just settled on JENS.

Robbe has been very skeptical, but Jens’s label seemed to think it was a good choice, and that was good enough for him. It wasn’t about the names or the titles, anyway.

Lucas seems to have also recognised this, and there are some heavy references to the actual music in some of the sketches. Lucas has sprinkled waves and rain and other forms of water throughout some of the designs, or focused on them entirely. Along with that are cages and chains, locks and keys, and beautiful wings.

Jens instantly falls in love with all of them, and then turns the page only to find more. He lets out a long breath. “How much time did this take you?”

He looks up in time to see Lucas shrug. He’s now staring down at an iPad. “Not that long. I might’ve stayed up a little longer than I should have, though.” He shrugs again, and now Jens believes the flush crawling up his neck has to be real. “The album gave me a lot of ideas.”

Jens nods. He hovers his fingers over some of the sketches, leaning down to admire them in closer detail.

Lucas makes a small sound of triumph, and then slides the iPad on top of the sketchbook. “I did a few out then on some rough clothing sketches, just to get an idea what they’d look like brought to life and put together. This doesn’t take that long, so if there’s any ideas you’d like me to group or something we could spend a while messing around with that. Or as long as you tell me, I can do it when I go home.”

“Everything is amazing.” Jens shakes his head, awed. He blows out another breath and laughs slightly as he looks up at Lucas. “I don’t know how you expect me to choose anything. None of these should be left out. Fuck, this one’s amazing.” He taps his finger on a sketch of drooped wings encased in a golden birdcage. He takes the iPad and lets Lucas draw the sketchbook back towards himself to examine, humming quietly in agreement.

He knew Lucas was talented. He’d gone after him for that exact reason. But seeing how quickly he’s managed to create all of this, how easily he’d brought the images in Jens’s words to life—he’s in awe. As well as that, he’s managed to implement the designs onto hoodies and t-shirts and sweatpants and hats and everything in between. Excitement floods through Jens at the prospect of getting to wear one himself, never mind seeing such items on anyone else. He smiles secretly to himself as he imagines Lucas donning a sweatshirt with his initials embroidered on the chest.

He doubts Lucas would ever sacrifice his beloved reputation to such an extent, or like Jens that much in the first place, but he’s allowed to dream.

“Yeah, I’m never going to be able to choose. I’m so sorry for making this more difficult but you’re just—this is just too good.” Jens shakes his head, still scrolling through the different images, and Lucas huffs.

“I didn’t expect you to be such a suck-up,” Lucas teases.

Jens looks up at him, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. Then he lets his expression turn earnest and shrugs. “I’m telling the truth, like I hope you did with me.” He’d been relieved, and pleased, when Lucas had given such a kind review of his album yesterday. It was almost hard to believe. He’d instantly gone and listened to the third and last songs again, the ones Lucas had said were his favourite, and had a smile on his face for the rest of the day.

Lucas’s smile slips now, and some of Jens’s nerves come back. Lucas clears his throat and snaps his sketchbook closed, setting it aside so he can pull his camera towards him. “We can ask Robbe for his opinion, later? It might help. Even if you’re just able to rule things out together.”

Jens suddenly remembers his best friend only a few feet away, and Lucas’s boyfriend with him, and quickly glances over his shoulder. He’s been doing well, every other day, at keeping an eye on them. He knows how easily Robbe could get hurt or upset, no matter how much he protests that he’s getting over his crush perfectly fine. Jens knows it’s far from the truth, both because he knows the full capacity of Robbe’s feelings and because it must be ten times harder to get over someone you see every day. He knows Robbe avoids contacting Sander now outside of work as much as he can. He knows it isn’t easy, and he’s been doing his best to provide a comforting buffer.

Now, though, he turns around just in time for Robbe to start giggling as Sander talks animatedly. Robbe is staring at his laptop screen instead of Sander, and his cheeks are flushed, but he’s smiling wide. Not upset, not yet, but quite possibly digging himself into a hole. Sander, at least, appears oblivious, happy and excited as he makes a dozen hand gestures and leans farther across the table to get a better look.

“Yeah, we’ll do that when they’re done,” he agrees, shooting a smile back at Lucas.

Lucas is watching Robbe and Sander, too, the furrow back between his brows. Jens remembers the sour mood that he’d arrived in, the tension between him and Sander, and resists asking if everything is okay. He’s told Robbe enough times, when he was mourning over Sander, that it’s none of their business. He shouldn’t be the one to butt in now.

He gently hands Lucas’s iPad back to him instead, then raises his brows. “Meanwhile, do you want a snack? Or something to drink?”

Lucas smiles at him. “Oh, he remembers to be a good host.”

Jens pulls a face at him. His heart flutters when Lucas actually laughs in response. “Five seconds and I retract my offer,” he threatens.

“Water would be nice, maybe,” Lucas acquiesces instantly. “And if you have any chocolate, I won’t say no.”

“Huh, sweet tooth. Noted.” Jens winks at him, pushing to his feet and glancing back at the other two co-workers. “Sander, can I get you anything?”

Sander quickly looks at him and shakes his head, and his eyes slide on over to Lucas and he tries for a smile. Lucas either truly misses it or pretends not to notice.

Jens bites down his questions once more. “Robbe?” He waits for his friend to shake his head and then goes to fetch water and chocolate for Lucas. A few minutes later, when Lucas has eaten half of the biscuits on the plate Jens had left out and is taking a sip of his water, Jens decides on a safer line of interrogation. “So, how many times did you actually end up listening to the album?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Those two times. And then the first few songs again because Sander joined me and he’d missed those.” Lucas pauses, blinking at Jens with wide eyes. “I hope that’s okay.”

Jens waves him off. “Yeah, obviously. I don’t expect you to keep anything from Sander, especially when you share a room.” He raises a brow. Lucas doesn’t react. “Besides, you both signed the contracts. Sander’s in our trust, too.”

“Okay,” Lucas nods, smiling slightly again. Jens’s chest warms. “That’s good, then.”

Jens smiles back at him, and they sit in silence for a moment, considering each other. Jens realises Lucas’s attention isn’t making him as anxious anymore. Their texting relationship seems to have actually carried over into real life, and he’s relieved.

Lucas takes another sip of his water and then grabs his camera again. “How do you feel about doing a practice shoot? I might even be able to mess around and edit some of the designs onto you then. Plus it’ll be a lot easier when the time comes if I’m already familiar with you and your angles and the lighting and everything.” Lucas waves a hand.

Jens bites down his smile and nods in acceptance. “Okay, sure. Just tell me where you want me.”

It turns out his nerves aren’t entirely gone. It’s different, when he’s sitting on a stool and Lucas is focusing entirely on how he looks. It’s different when there’s a camera pointed at him and Lucas is the one behind it. He doesn’t want to mess up. He doesn’t want to frustrate Lucas, and he doesn’t want to look like an idiot.

It turns out this makes the whole process more difficult.

“Are you always this tense?” Lucas asks, vaguely concerned, and Jens’s shoulders tense further. Lucas sighs. “Don’t act so much like you’re posing. Just, do whatever feels comfortable.”

Jens wriggles on the stool. He draws a leg up. Puts it back down again. He leans forward to rest his arms on his knees and almost falls off the stool, which is too high for that position to work. He leans back and crosses his ankles, tucking his hands in his pockets.

Lucas snaps a photo, then considers it with a frown. He examines Jens again. “Maybe spread your legs?” He suggests.

Jens instantly raises his brows and smirks slightly, just to see Lucas rolls his eyes and set an unimpressed hand on his hip. Jens relents and spreads his legs, planting his feet and letting his hands dangle between his knees.

Lucas takes another photo and stares at it for a moment. Then he says, “How about we go outside?”

Jens blinks at him. “Why?”

“Because if you’re just walking around, not posing, I might get something more natural. I can tell you’re not feeling this.”

Lucas isn’t exactly wrong. The only thing Jens is feeling right now is sick. He’s twitchy and his stomach keeps rolling and Lucas’s gaze is too intense. He can’t sit still. Maybe it will help if he doesn’t have to.

“You’re the expert,” he says. “I can go wherever you want me.”

Lucas shakes his head. “No. Wherever you want. Somewhere you’re a little more in your element.”

Jens thinks, then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Lucas grins, letting his camera settle around his neck. He moves back to the island and collects the coat he’d abandoned there, the same denim jacket with the fluffy collar he’d worn the first time they’d met. He slides his arms into the sleeves and turns to the other two men in the flat, clicking his fingers once to get their attention. “We’re going out to take some photos. Do you two wanna come with?”

Jens doesn’t know if he wants them to. The possibility of being alone with Lucas is terrifying and thrilling all at once. He decides this thought in itself is enough to make up his mind. He shoots a panicked, pleading look at Robbe, but Robbe is already looking at Lucas and nodding his head. He doesn’t seem to notice Sander’s frown.

“Yeah, sure,” Robbe agrees, and Jens lets out a breath of relief. He supposes his friend likely doesn’t want to be left here alone with Sander, either. “Where are we going?”

“Wherever Jens wants.” Lucas fiddles with his camera for a moment. “He needs to chill.”

Robbe raises his brows as Sander blinks. There’s a hint of a laugh in Robbe’s tone. “Jens needs to chill?”

“He’s always been chill with me,” Sander agrees, confused.

Lucas looks up to blink at them, then at Jens, amused. “Do I scare you that much?”

Jens flushes and pointedly ignores Robbe’s giggle. “No. I’m just, stressed. We’re releasing the first music video and announcing the album in two weeks and I’m very aware of all the things that could go wrong and how shitty I’ll probably feel.”

That shuts them up fairly quickly. Sander simply offers a sympathetic smile and Lucas’s expression softens as he seems to search for something to say. It’s Robbe, however, who raises to his feet and grabs Jens by the shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. “You won’t. It’ll be amazing, and we’re going to spend the entire day celebrating. Right now, Lucas is right. We should go out and have fun.”

“You definitely need it,” Lucas agrees, tilting his head towards the door, brows raised.

“Come on.” Robbe slaps his shoulder. “Skate park? It’s been a long time.”

Jens sucks in a breath, then slowly lets it out as he nods. They spend a moment collecting coats, keys, and boards, and then Jens ushers them all out and locks the door behind them. Robbe leads the way outside and down the sidewalk, and Jens half hopes Lucas will instantly rope him into conversation and start giving orders. Instead Sander slips an arm over Lucas’s shoulders and speaks to him quietly, and after a moment Lucas is nodding and leaning into his side.

Jens looks away and catches Robbe’s gaze, then falls into step alongside his best friend, bumping his shoulder. “Okay?” he asks quietly.

Robbe gives him a tight smile and a nod and Jens ruffles his hair.

The skatepark is relatively empty, but the people who are there continuously sneak glances at the group, whispering and grinning between themselves. Jens sees a guy pointing his phone at them. This isn’t entirely unusual, but it doesn’t help him destress.

“Just ignore them,” Robbe reminds him. “But be aware I’m gonna post a few stories because people are starting to ask if you’ve died.”

Jens rolls his eyes, but he does his best to listen. He looks to Lucas first, who merely waves his hand in a ‘go ahead’ gesture. He realises soon that it does help. It’s been a while since he’s skated, but it still loosens him up like it used to, still gets his blood rushing and allows him a few moments of freedom. He flips off Robbe’s phone and winks at Lucas’s camera and doesn’t really allow himself to think about either, or the way Sander is watching over Lucas’s shoulder and occasionally directing him, both of them smiling and bickering now.

He finally rejoins them and plops himself down on top of the half pipe, where Lucas immediately comes to kick at his thigh. “Weird question, but can I have a go?”

Jens blinks up at him, noticing how he’s rocking on his heels with barely constrained energy, and raises his brows. “Skating?”

“Yeah?” Lucas raises his eyebrows back. “Is that a no?”

“Uh, no, go for it. I mean, if you can.”

Lucas huffs, carefully setting his camera and his jacket on the ground next to Jens before picking up his board. He plants it at the top of the ramp, a foot balancing it on the edge, and cocks an eyebrow at Jens again before he’s racing down the ramp with a wave.

Jens stares after him, astonished, as he navigates the park on Jens’s board with ease. He barely notices Robbe and Sander sitting down with him until Sander wolf-whistles and Lucas flips him off as he passes. Jens feels something thrum in his stomach as he watches Lucas and can’t quite figure out what it is.

When Lucas finally comes to a stop below them, flicking his hair off his forehead, Jens gives an exaggerated clap. Lucas simply grins up at him, eyes considering as he holds the board up for Jens to take, then requests, “Pass me my camera?”

Jens does so without question, and Lucas’s lips curl as he looks up at him and then snaps a photo. “I just have to capture the utter shock and awe on your face right now.”

Jens sets a hand on his thigh and stares down at him, unimpressed, but his brow furrows slightly as the camera goes off again.

Lucas takes it away from his face and examines the image he’d taken, pursing his lips slightly. “Not bad. Who knew you could actually be sort of photogenic.”

Jens pulls a face at him as he grins and draws himself up next to Sander, who immediately leans in to look at the photos he’s taken. Lucas doesn’t hesitate to lean towards him, this time, and then he’s laughing at whatever Sander says, turning towards him with a dazzling smile Jens hasn’t seen yet. Their faces are so close they could kiss.

Robbe seems to have the same thought and looks away, showing Jens his hurt expression for an instant before focusing steadily out at the skatepark, his pinched lips the only visible sign of jealousy.

Jens has to look away, too, and finds himself mimicking the expression. It’s only then that he recognises the heavy feeling in his own stomach as the same emotion. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. Jealousy has never been foreign to him.

He darts another glance at Lucas, in shock and slowly expanding terror, and notes how his heart flutters and then pinches as he throws his head back and laughs and Sander reaches out and fixes his hair for him.

Oh, fuck.

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tag list: @allthewayornowayy @wedarkacademia @lockerfivethreefive @yellowballoon @gucciboner @nora-keinwitz @moonskam @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @akucecilia @hischbabe @evaksobbe @alittleemo @boring-side-effect @franboos

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#wtfock #skam nl #sobbe #robbe x sander #van der stoffels #vds #fake making-it

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werejusttouchingeachother · 4 years ago

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Whipped

(d.ksoo)

Req: fluff + smut with Kyungsoo by @johnniverse Pairing: actor!Kyungsoo x baker!reader Words: 10,609k Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut Warning: cursing, smut, mature Summary: Your close friendship with Korea’s favourite actor is suddenly strained when he begins acting strange after returning home. Three nights of disappointment and several drinks later, the memory of a rhubarb Eton mess lingers in the air as you find yourself finally seeing your best friend in a different light. Tags: actor!Soo, slightly chef!Soo, baker!reader, cursing, flirting, sexual tension and fluffy smut A/N: To the req, I hope you like it and it isnt too cringy lol, I always struggle with fluff. Also P.S, I’m never doing the fake texting image thing ever again, I had to use both my phone and laptop to edit/upload the pics in order and it was a pain in the ass especially for a fic this long (and on a side-note, props to all the text-message fic authors, this sHIT IS HARD JFC SERIOUSLY Y’ALL ARE AMAZING AND DEDICATED AF, I APPRECIATE THE EFFORT)

The smell of butter and dough that surrounded you usually helped calm your nerves but tonight could perhaps be the first time that was an exception. After all, it had been months since you last saw your best friend, Kyungsoo.

There weren’t many people around at this late hour of the night and you were thankful for the silence, for the peaceful atmosphere that was usually a rare occurrence at the bakery’s kitchen. Only when your nerves had crept into your worried thoughts as the silence prolonged had you finally scrolling to the playlist of soft instrumentals that you usually had playing at the bakery during work hours, letting the music fill the empty kitchen while you worked.

You hum softly to Billie Eilish and Khalid’s ‘lovely' as you place the tiny specks of edible gold foil atop the chocolate tart. Kyungsoo didn’t love the gold foil—he called it “too bougie”—but you knew that he didn’t hate it either. Besides, you couldn’t help the dramatic flair that you always brought to your desserts; it was what you were popular for, after all.

You’d met Kyungsoo as a customer at your artisan café almost three years ago when he’d dropped by late in the night to ask for a full-sized cake. You’d heard your co-worker Yixing apologetically inform him that there weren’t any such cakes readily available just a few minutes short to closing hours and that customers usually pre-ordered them in advance but you’d stepped out of the back-kitchen then to ask the desperate-sounding customer whether a red velvet cheesecake was fine with him.

You can still recall how you’d stumbled over your own words as your eyes finally fell on the late-night customer—Do Kyungsoo, the upcoming handsome actor who had swept over the nation with his popularity after his latest movie. Your first thought had immediately been, ‘Holy hell, he looks more beautiful than he does on the screen’.

It was only much later that you’d revealed to him that the original recipient of the cake was a little girl turning eight the next day. Kyungsoo had been stunned at the revelation and even to the present day, he still wondered why you hadn’t turned him away to find another bakery instead of going to the hassle of giving away a pre-baked cake that resulted in you pulling an all-nighter to bake another for the actual customer.

But how could you have refused? With his warm earnest brown eyes that reminded you of the pools of dark chocolate batter that you’d been whisking back in the kitchen, his cheeks that shone like freshly glazed pastries with the sheepish heart-shaped smile that put even the sun to shame, you couldn’t help but relent and give him the red velvet cheesecake that you’d been preparing for a client to pick up the next morning.

Although Kyungsoo had left in a hurry after accepting the box that night, he had visited the bakery around brunch hour the next day to thank you personally—and “properly”. Both of you had introduced yourselves and you’d been surprised at how down-to-earth and friendly he’d been, taken aback by his genuine interest in your bakery and all the desserts that you’d had. After conversing, there grew a mutual admiration—you’d never imagined that such a famous actor was also an incredible cook with an intense passion for food while having such an avid interest and genuine fascination towards your baking.

It had been the initial blossoming of a beautiful delectable friendship. You’d never thought you’d grow as close to him as you did but there was an instant connection after that first conversation at the kitchen of your bakery, a way in which both your personalities perfectly complemented each other and fit together just right. Of course, your mutual interest for food only fuelled the friendship further.

That was three years ago. Back then, it had started as a friendship but slowly bloomed to an unhealthy crush on your part. And who could blame you? Kyungsoo was unbelievably perfect—with his charming smile, his friendly and kind nature, his heart of gold and just by being an absolute sweetheart, you struggled to keep your emotions at bay as you got closer to him. He set the standard entirely too high and there was a small part of you that even blamed him for never being able to find a boyfriend. Every blind date and man that your friends introduced you to all paled in comparison to Kyungsoo, multiple meals and walks spent with them feeling extremely dreary when you spent the entire time drawing analyses of them in your mind based off of Kyungsoo as the yardstick.

However, it was a secret that you were certain you’d carry to your grave. He already had hordes of fangirls and half the country pining for him, he didn’t need to worry about you shooting heart-eyes at him too.

Besides, you cherished your relationship with Kyungsoo entirely far too much to risk losing all of it with a silly confession. You were close with his mother who called you more often than she even called him sometimes to chat with you idly about recipes, you knew how he hated parsley a lot more than he let on, how he’d admitted that your lemon meringue pies were his favourite dessert in the entire world and how he hated early morning shoots the most and could never get used to them no matter how many times he did it.

It wasn’t one-sided—he knew you like the back of his hand too. Kyungsoo knew about your coffee addiction that he always called unhealthy, how much you loved crafting recipes in your kitchen late into the night until you got it perfect, how you absolutely hated thunderstorms and could even tell whenever you were upset even from a mere text, prompting him to call you as soon as he could to talk about it.

It was too much to risk such a great friendship for a stupid crush. He meant too much to you which is exactly why you’d settled for never ever confessing to him.

You hum softly as you finally pulled your face away from the table, a satisfied smile coming upon your face as the finished tart lay atop the marble counter, gold flecks glinting in the yellow lights of the kitchen.

You picked up your phone then, frowning as you noticed the lack of texts. Kyungsoo had finally completed the premiere and tour for his latest movie, arriving back home early today morning for a well-deserved break, albeit short. You knew that his friends would most probably throw him a party—as per their tradition—but he’d texted you earlier that he would definitely drop by the bakery around midnight, at the latest.

Which was your tradition. He’d visit his mother, have a meal with his parents and then come straight to you, loudly yelling that you’d better have his favourite pies waiting for him, “or else”.

You stare at your phone, contemplating if you should send a picture of the tart and fully utilise his weakness for sweet treats against him but the screen suddenly lights up with an incoming message.

You sigh as you place your phone back on the counter and glance dejectedly down at the tarts. Pursuing your lips, you wondered if there was something wrong and if Kyungsoo was okay—it was the first time that he’d cancelled on your tradition of meeting you on the day that he got back itself.

He’s at home, probably well-fed, pampered and completely spoiled rotten by his mother so you decided to not dwell further on it. You place the tarts into airtight containers and placed them in the fridge then, yawning softly as you decided to call it a day and head home.

You were positive that you could see the colour red as you glanced at the clock hanging over the paintings on your wall, feeling more livid than you’d ever been.

It had been three days. Three days since Kyungsoo had arrived and your stupid ��tradition” was in shreds—the both of you hadn’t met at all.

The day after the night he spent at his parents’ place, you waited for him all morning at the bakery before texting him. He’d called you immediately and apologised profusely, saying that he had to meet his manager at the company and that something urgent had come up. You’d let it go again but he hadn’t contacted you at all after that and you’d waited all day until finally calling him right before bed.

The conversation had been short, his words muted and seeming tired so you’d hung up without pressing too much.

But then you’d went over directly to his parents’ place yesterday. You’d been stunned to find that he wasn’t there, his mother cheerfully mentioning that he had left early in the morning “because of some work” and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’d lost your appetite. After stuffing yourself full with an entire lunch that his mother had not let you leave without, you’d called him. He’d apologised again, “another work thing” and finally ended the call after mutually agreeing that he’d come over to your place early the next morning, eat breakfast with him and heading back to the bakery later in the afternoon.

It was the next morning, the pancakes you’d made were cold and soggy now, the clock read 10:19AM and Kyungsoo was nowhere in sight.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” you hissed murderously, grabbing your phone and pulling up your messages to text him.

You shoved your phone away in fury, grabbing the plate of pancakes and hurriedly storing them back in the oven before grabbing the keys to your car and heading out of your apartment. You had half-a-mind to drive over to the company and ask his manager which goddamn hotel he was staying at before taking a deep breath, muttering a string of curses lowly to clear your head and pulling out of the parking space.

The entire day was a mess. Chanyeol, your commis baker, was surprised to see you head in earlier than you said you would, all of the kitchen crew and bakers flinching as you glared and yelled at them to get their shit together. You busied yourself in the kitchen, feeling Johnny’s wary eyes on you as you punched the dough like a possessed madwoman. Perhaps you weren't as good at masking your emotions as you thought you were, the entire staff catching onto the fact that their usually-cheerful patisserie chef was perhaps not seeing dough for fresh bread but instead visualising the mochi cheeks of the man whom Korea had lovingly dubbed as the actor with the most perfect heart-shaped smile.

Perfect, my ass, you thought derisively.

The day passed in phases. By 4PM, you’d baked way more puff pastries than necessary, waving off Chanyeol who meekly suggested to stop making so many since there was already a piling excess which would most probably be wasted if not sold by tonight. You told them all to just take some home, that there were your treat and involuntarily, your hands started to slow down as evening dawned, your upper arms beginning to ache slightly because you didn’t pace yourself in your rage.

You sighed as you headed to the back of the kitchen, walking through the smaller door that was alongside the pantry—a smaller space that was solely for you, a place that you lovingly called your own and was the birth of many of your sweet creations.

The anger shifted to the second phase in the evening, one that infuriated you more because at least you were productive with your fury. Now, you just slumped at the marble countertop while staring at the small fridge in the corner that still held the gold-leafed chocolate tart from two nights ago.

You sighed as you buried your face in your flour-stained palms. This has never happened and it was stressing you out in levels that you had never expected it to—because you’d never had a fight with Kyungsoo. Petty arguments, sure, but nothing that couldn’t be solved with his spaghetti or your macaroons.

Then again, he’d never been like this. Never had he avoided you, never had he cancelled multiple times on you repeatedly, never had he broke the sacred tradition of meeting you as soon as he was back. It had been too many times now to be a mere coincidence, he was definitely avoiding you. You could tell that he was lying and your anger from today morning had subsided to just an intense worry that felt like cramps in your lower abdomen, sighs falling from your lips as you wondered what was wrong.

You thought about calling his mother for a brief moment but you could already guess that she was just as oblivious as you, maybe even more. She hadn’t seemed fazed when you’d went over yesterday, hadn’t noticed the distress on your face as you realised that you’d missed him yet again.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on forever. Your limbs were sore and you knew your bed would be nothing short of welcoming right now but you didn’t want to go back home in a state like this where your thoughts would be louder than ever.

Around 9PM, you decided to call it a day and closed up early. You could see the relief in everyone’s faces, especially Chanyeol who looked like he wanted nothing more than to go home and pass out. Once the entire crew had left the bakery with a box of all your rage-fuelled treats—Chanyeol had been right, there had been way too many puff pastries, cake pops and enough cookies for the entire neighbourhood—you sat alone in your workspace with nothing but silence echoing around you.

Sighing softly, you stood up and connected your phone to the small Bluetooth speakers placed at the corner of the room, putting on your Coldplay playlist. You washed your hands in the sink before setting out to make the lemon meringue pie.

There was a reason why Kyungsoo loved it the most amongst every other dessert you made—it was your go-to dessert whenever you were upset. Although the recipe wasn’t challenging nor was it particularly difficult to make, it does require a lot of patience and dedication to get a flawless pie every time. Kyungsoo loved watching you create it; you’d lost count of the number of times he’d walked in to see you furiously whipping the cream filling for the pie. The amount of concentration it took at each step usually helped calm your nerves, distracting your noisy thoughts enough to focus on the dessert at hand.

Initially, you’d thought he called it his favourite only because he’d seen first-hand how much effort it took to bake it but then Kyungsoo had explained that he could taste the effort, that the tarty tanginess of the lemon filling which would first wash over his tongue slowly morphs into the subtle sweet aftertaste of the creamy meringue which was addicting enough to make you crave for more.

There was a small part of you that didn’t believe him when he’d said that and an even smaller part that had been too flattered to believe it, unable to even form a coherent response to it but baking the pie now made your chest ache as it occurred to you that it’d probably join the tarts in the fridge from two nights ago.

The lemon meringue pies tasted best when eaten immediately and he knew it—which was exactly why he often sat around to watch you make it.

You decided not to dwell on it. Once you were done with the pie, you’d call him one last time to ask if he could meet you wherever possible tonight itself. You’d use the pies as an extra leverage, perhaps as a ruse to just lure him out. Just so you could yell at him for being an idiot right at his face instead of at the phone.

You’d just lined the pastry base into the pan and chilled it for an hour before baking it in the oven while you whisked the lemon filling. The humming of the oven had involuntarily made your shoulders loosen up as you lost yourself in making the lemon filling and you were softly singing along to Yellow as it echoed around the small kitchen space.

The song suddenly stopped and your hands froze reflexively as you turned around to see your phone lighting up with an incoming call.

‘satansoo😈💕’

You dropped the whisk immediately and grabbed the dishcloth, wiping your hands hastily as you strode around the counter. You threw the cloth aside, hands still feeling slightly sticky as you grabbed your phone and disconnected the Bluetooth connection.

Your voice was slightly breathless as you finally answered, “Soo? Hello? Kyungsoo?”

There was dull music faintly thumping in the background but at a distance, as if muted. You frowned as the pause on the other side of the call lasted for almost three seconds before finally hearing an unfamiliar male voice.

“Hello? Y/N? Is this Y/N?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” you said loudly, furrowing your eyebrows as you felt a sense of dread creep into you. “Who is this? Where’s—?”

“You were the first on his emergency contact list,” the man interrupted, making your heart drop to your feet.

“What’s going on?” You asked hurriedly in a panic, your eyes widening as you felt your stomach twist. “Where’s Kyungsoo? Is he okay?”

“Ma’am, my name is Woo Shik and I’m the bartender at Club Exodus. Your friend is really really drunk,” the man replied, sounding slightly exasperated. “He came in around 7PM and got a room alone although we told him that he can’t do that singly but he insisted and said he’d even pay more for it. And now-now he’s just really drunk. He’s been yelling your name for the past half hour and crying something about rhu.. rhu something? Itaewon mess?”

“Rhubarb Eton mess,” you deadpanned, sighing. “I’m… I’ll be there as soon as I can. Could you just text me the address of the club, to this number?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll send the location right now.”

“Okay, thank you, I’ll be there.”

You hang up quickly and your limbs feel like they’re frozen, uncoordinated from your brain as you will yourself to move. You feel disoriented, a thousand thoughts flying through your head as you quickly pull off your messy apron and grab your phone. You don’t bother fixing yourself much, knowing that you probably smelled like fresh dough and lemons as you hurriedly shut off the oven. You pause as you notice the halfway baked pie shell, wondering if you should call Chanyeol and ask him if he could clean up in here as a favour.

The large grandfather clock in the main lounge area of the bakery suddenly sounded, echoing softly in the back-kitchen and you glanced down at your phone.

10PM.

He’s been drinking by himself for three hours.

“Fuck it,” you mutter, snatching the oven mitts and not even bothering to put it on as you use it just to shield your hand whilst grabbing the hot pie tray.

Your legs seem to move faster than your brain then, your body moving almost robotically as you threw the half-whisked lemon filling in its large glass bowl, the pastry shell and the cream for the meringue into the small fridge. It only held a few failed recipes and a couple of disfigured-looking pastries that you usually snacked on, along with Soo’s dark chocolate gold tart from two nights ago that you hadn’t had the heart to throw away, having expected him to walk into the bakery at some godforsaken hour and claim the dessert.

You felt a slight ache now as you stashed everything into the fridge, knowing how many ingredients that you’d just wasted because there was no way even you could resurrect or save this disaster after leaving this kitchen now.

Knowing that there was no time to regret it, you quickly cleaned up the counters and the rest of the workspace, grabbing your car keys and the lock to the bakery. You closed up the store and hurriedly got into the car, pulling up the location that the bartender had just sent you as you started driving to the club.

Your worry finally had a chance to fully materialise through the drive, your anxiety not allowing you to even play the radio as you raced to Club Exodus. It briefly occurred to you that there probably was a huge problem, something big that was worrying Kyungsoo if he was willing to go to the extent of booking a hotel room away from his parents and even avoiding you.

If there was anyone besides his mother who could read and see through him as well as she did, it was you.

God, Kyungsoo, what is going on?

You pulled up to the front of the club in almost half an hour, quickly jumping out and hurriedly gesturing to the car at the valet service guy standing at the entrance before heading in.

You approached the woman at the reception, your voice low as you asked, “I’m looking for Woo Shik? He’s with a friend of mine…”

“Oh yes, ma’am, hold on.” You weren’t even looking around the place, your senses almost numbed with tension as you followed the uniformed man to whom she gestured, one step behind him as he lead you away from what sounded like the main hall with its booming music that you could feel reverberating through the walls.

He showed you to a door and you could already hear Kyungsoo’s deep laughter even before entering. You pushed open the door and your eyes immediately fell on your best friend, his cheeks appearing redder than you’d ever seen them as he laid back on the black leather couches. A man in the dark burgundy uniform of the club who you assumed to be Woo Shik was trying to clear the table alongside the couch in a desperate attempt to save the bottles and glasses of alcohol from falling onto the floor.

“Kyungsoo,” you said flatly and Woo Shik looked up from the couch towards you, wide eyes filled with exasperation.

“Y/N?” He asked hopefully and you nodded, sighing.

“Did he drink more after we called?” You asked, stepping into the room fully and scrunching your nose in disgust at the way the place was reeking with alcohol.

“No, but he’d been chugging for a while and they’re all settling in now, I think,” Woo Shik explained tiredly, stepping away to let you walk around the table towards your drunk best friend.

You forgot what to even say as you looked at Kyungsoo who was giggling giddily on the couch, his eyes closed as his hands flailed mindlessly. He looked almost smaller in the way that he was curled up on the leather seats and you could see that he’d grown thinner since the last time you’d seen him. His cheeks were very flushed and that’s when you realised that this was the first time you’d seen him so shit-faced drunk. Of the both of you, he was the one with the higher tolerance and he’d seen you blackout drunk more times than you’d seen him in the past three years and it occurred to you that he must have definitely had way too much than usual tonight to be like this.

“Soo,” you heard yourself mumble, your hands reaching for his that were still blindly reaching for something in the air. His eyes snap open when he feels your hands clasp around his, dark shining gaze shifting towards you. You watch as his eyes widen and even before you can react, his grip tightens fiercely around your hand as he yanks you to him with a high-pitched squeal of your name.

You curse as you almost collapse on top of him on the couch, feeling his body beneath yours that was radiating so much warmth that you would have mistaken him to have a fever if it weren’t for all the alcohol lying around.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” Kyungsoo slurred, smiling happily up at you as he wrapped his arms snugly around your middle while staring down at you. You felt your heart slightly melt at his elated expression, your anger and worry momentarily dissipating as you gazed back into his shining eyes.

“Hi,” you replied softly, feeling almost shy from the way he was looking at you as you realised that Woo Shik was still in the room and probably waiting for you to collect the mess that you had in your arms who had caused him enough trouble.

“Okay, can you sit up?” You ask slowly like you’re talking to a child as you pull away enough to help him sit upright. He’s still gripping one of your hands tightly and you let him use your other arm as a support to pull him upwards slowly so as not to make him dizzy.

You look up at Woo Shik then, your tone apologetic as you ask, “How much is all of this?”

“He already paid, ma’am,” Woo Shik replied, shaking his head at you.

“Okay, I’ll just take him away then, I’m so sorry for the trouble,” You quickly say as you grab Kyungsoo’s arm and throw it around your neck. You put your own arm around his waist, holding him to your side while trying not to inhale the alcohol-stench reeking off of him. Woo Shik offers help but you shake your head at him as you help Kyungsoo out of the club. He suggests the back entrance then, mentioning that it’d be safer because of his actor status and quickly hurries to tell the valet to bring your car.

You manage, with much difficulty, to finally seat Kyungsoo inside your car and strap him in safely. Once he is settled, you sincerely thank Woo Shik for all his help and make a mental note to send him some treats tomorrow and finally get back into your car. After driving away from the club, you slow down at a secluded alley and turn to Kyungsoo whose head is turned to face the window.

You gently shake his shoulder, wondering if he’s asleep as you softly call out, “Soo? Kyungsoo?”

His eyes blink open slowly and he turns to you, appearing almost woozy. You watch then as his eyes widen and the same elated expression from earlier washes over his face, his arms reaching out to wrap tightly around your frame as he again exclaims, “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii.”

“Yeah, yeah, hi, hi,” you mutter, rolling your eyes in exasperation as you try to pull away from his death-grip. Any other time, you’d have been taking videos of him like this to use as precious blackmail later.

“Soo,” you call out his name again as you try to get his attention on you. Once he is blinking at you while still grinning like an idiot, you enunciate slowly, “Your hotel. Where is it? Which hotel are you staying at?”

Kyungsoo blinks incomprehensibly and you see his grin widen, mouth opening excitedly to squeal your name again and you manage to grab his arms, stopping him from hugging you yet again.

“Kyungsoo!” You call out loudly, watching him flinch and you instantly lower your tone as you slump back in your seat while staring at him helplessly. There was no way you could take him back to his parents’ place when he was like this and you knew that his mother didn’t know the hotel that he was staying at either since she hadn’t mentioned it the last time.

Sighing, you turn with resignation towards the steering wheel and start up the car again, deciding to just take him home.

It wasn’t like he’d never been to your place before—he’d slept over on your couch multiple times but this would be the first time that he’d be doing it when absolutely wasted.

Kyungsoo hums softly beneath his breath as you drive and you’re quiet, listening to him as you chew on your lip nervously while wondering if you should talk to him. You knew he was drunk as hell and by the state that he was in, you guessed that his chances of remembering any of this tomorrow morning would probably be extremely low.

You decided to risk it.

“Soo,” you started tentatively and you were surprised when the humming stopped, knowing his attention was on you. You clear your throat before asking slowly, “Why didn’t you meet me?”

He frowns and you can hear the pout in his voice as he slurs, “Because you’re an idiot.”

You turn to look at him in amazement, eyes wide at the stupid response. “What?”

You turn back to the road as he continues, “It’s true. My mother says so too.”

“Your-your mother?” You sputtered, feeling more confused by the second. What the hell is he talking about? “She said not to meet me because I’m an idiot?”

“Nooooooooo,” Kyungsoo whined and you noticed him shift in his seat slightly from your peripheral as he explained, “I decided not to meet you. Mom told me that I’m an idiot. I think you’re the idiot but Mom says it’s me.”

You should just pull over and leave him on the roadside.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain calm as you reminded yourself to treat him like a child. He is a child and you need information so you tried again, slowly asking, “Why are we idiots?”

There’s a pause then and Kyungsoo mumbles something in reply, incoherent again.

You slow to a stop at the red light as you turn to face him fully now, squinting at him. “What? Why are we idiots, Kyungsoo?”

“Because I like you,” Kyungsoo sighs loudly and your eyes widen then, heart jumping to your throat.

Everything freezes around you and you stare at him, certain that you’d heard wrong as he leans back against the headrest, sighing dramatically again as he softly explains, “I’ve liked you for a long time but you’re an idiot to never see it. Mom told me I’m the idiot for never telling you but you’re the idiot for never seeing the signs.”

“S-signs?” You repeated, your voice cracking in your throat. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you ask quietly, “What signs?”

Kyungsoo sighs again, longer this time and you’re almost tempted to grab him by his shoulders and shake him angrily to get him to speak faster. You felt like you were going to be sick and this idiot was putting on the show of his life, acting dramatically like his rent was due the next morning.

“Sooooooo many signs, Y/N,” he slurs your name, dragging his words tiredly as he turns to you. He faces you and pouts childishly as he asks, “You think I run to all my friends’ arms whenever I come home on break? You think I cook with parsley which I hate with all my heart for anyone else? It’s only for you, because of how much you love it on your spaghetti. Most of my friends don’t even know I cook. I never even had a thing for sweets until you and I told you that but you’re an idiot. You thought its cause I love everything you make that much but that’s only a part of it. You idiot.”

You stare at him speechlessly and jump when you hear a loud honk behind you. Dazed, you look ahead and realise the traffic lights had changed to green, slowly prompting you to shift the gear and start driving again as the cars continued honking noisily behind.

You swallowed loudly, hearing an internal screaming in your head as you tried to gather your thoughts and process the words you’d just heard. You’re about to ask more, you don’t even know what, when you hear him murmuring softly again. You catch the word ‘rhubarb’ and start to ask why he kept ranting about your Rhubarb Eton mess custard and that’s when it suddenly hits you.

The last time that he’d come home for break, the time that he’d spent with you before leaving for the movie that he’d just finished shooting, you’d made him the Rhubarb Eton mess custard. The call to travel to Japan had been abrupt, causing him to have to leave on short notice and he’d spent the night before his flight with you at the bakery. It was after working hours, close to midnight and you’d been experimenting and crafting desserts with rhubarbs since they were in-season and had whipped up the Rhubarb Eton mess custard quickly just for him.

He’d watched you in his usual seat opposite the counter as you made it and after having his first spoon, he’d scooped a spoonful of the creamy custard and fed it to you. After taking the bite, however, the blood-red juice of the rhubarb had stained your lips with a bit of the whipped cream at the edge of your mouth.

Kyungsoo had reached out almost reflexively, his thumb swiping against your lip and you’d gone still, both of your gazes locking as you’d felt the atmosphere shift. You thought it had only been in your head, that it had only been you wondering what the expression on his face would be if you leaned forward and sucked the cream from his thumb, if his eyes would dilate watching your lips wrap around his digit the way that you were sure your eyes had when his hand had reached towards your mouth.

You could still recall how terse the silence had been then, both of you in a silent stare-off as you waited for the other to make a move and Kyungsoo had finally broken the moment by retrieving his hand, flashing you an innocent grin as he licked the cream from his thumb and quietly finished the rest of the dessert.

Your heart had been hammering in your chest that whole night and you’d never even known.

“Oh god,” you breathed out involuntarily as understanding finally dawned over you. Kyungsoo had been humming beside you again but at your words, he went quiet and you continued, “The rhubarb custard. You’re talking about—”

Kyungsoo groaned loudly then, confirming your suspicions as he huffed in annoyance.

“I wanted to kiss you so bad that night,” he almost whined and you felt your cheeks reddening at his confession as he continues ranting, “You were just standing there with your lips looking all glossy and red from the syrup and that stupid whipped cream on your upper lip! I was already upset cause I had to leave you so soon and you were just standing there like an idiot and I just wanted to eat you instead of that damn custard.”

Holy fucking hell. “Kyung—”

“I’ve been whipped for you forever, Y/N,” Kyungsoo admitted, shutting you up abruptly. “I’m whipped for you like your whipped cream. Like your Eton mess. Like your perfect custard. Like your pies. Like—”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I get it,” you quickly interrupt him, desperately wanting him to shut up because you were certain that you’d cause an accident with the way your heart was pounding right now, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your thoughts were disorienting. You were driving mindlessly, taking longer routes because you didn’t how much longer this conversation would go, if it would last all the way to your apartment or if he’d sober up once he got home. You felt like you were dreaming, like this conversation was unreal and wondered briefly if you’d gotten drunk with him too back at the club and this was just some cruel dream.

“Why…” you croak and you clear your throat before trying again. “Why didn’t you meet me?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“I swear to god, I’m going to—” You loudly inhale through your mouth, knuckles almost turning white around the steering wheel as you grit out, “Did. You. Avoid. Me. Because you like me?”

“Min Ah…”

He trailed off and you frowned in confusion, pausing as you faintly recognised the name. “‘Min Ah’? Jung Min Ah? Isn’t that your co-star for the movie you just did?”

Kyungsoo nods and he mumbles sleepily, “She said she likes me during the wrap-up party but I could only think of you. I didn’t want to see you until I got my shit together and sorted out my feelings because I didn’t want to accidentally confess to you.” He pauses then and you’re surprised when he lets out a loud humourless laugh. “Maybe I am the idiot.”

You hesitate before asking, “Why don’t you want to confess to me?”

Kyungsoo is quiet for a while after that and you glance at him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep but he appears to be deep in thought. His words are almost unheard as he finally mumbles, “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

You fall silent at his heavy words, the intensity of the underlying meaning getting to you as you feel something break inside of you.

You don’t say anything for the rest of the ride then and Kyungsoo dozes off, falling asleep cutely with his mouth hanging open as he lays his head back against the seat while you drown in your thoughts.

Regardless of your feelings and how much you liked him too, the words that Kyungsoo had just uttered terrified you. Friendships were stable, they endured even the ugliest of fights and lasted longer while relationships were fragile; one slip and you could lose Kyungsoo. He didn’t confess to you because he didn’t know about your feelings but now that you knew that he felt the same, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to take the risk.

It could be the end to something beautiful.

But it could also be the beginning to something more beautiful, a small voice in your head reminded you.

Or it could be the beginning to something even more beautiful that would soon reach its untimely but inevitable end and leave you with only heartache and the absence of a best friend that you’d have to burden forever.

You sighed softly as you finally parked your car in front of your apartment. You glanced at Kyungsoo and realised he was sleeping soundly, looking so warm and comfortable that it made you hesitate in awakening him. You got out of the car and walked to his side, throwing his arm around your shoulder while softly calling his name. He woke up enough to step out of the car and you helped him up to your apartment, panting by the time you finally reached your door.

You lead him straight to your bedroom, resigning to spend the night on your couch since you knew he could definitely use the entire bed in the state that he was in. You help him out of the thickly-lined trench coat that he was wearing, holding your breath to not inhale the stench of the alcohol as you decided to just throw them all with the laundry tomorrow morning.

You remove his shoes and pull off his socks but your hands hesitate mid-air before reaching for his pants. It’s not like you hadn’t seen his legs before or anything—god knows he’d helped undress you from uncomfortable clothes on multiple nights when you’d gotten too drunk—but your stomach was twisting now as if he was a whole new person who you were stripping.

God, stop overthinking it.

You force yourself to help him out of his pants, purposefully not letting your eyes go astray as you decided to leave him in the thin black sweater that he was wearing and his boxers. You grabbed your blankets and tucked it around him, smiling slightly when you notice Kyungsoo immediately snuggle to the warm sheets like a child, making himself comfortable as he closed his eyes.

You went to the kitchen then, grabbing a tall glass of water and some aspirin pills before heading back to your room. You’d just placed them on the small bedside table and was turning to leave when you felt a fierce grip on your wrist.

Your breath stopped in your throat as you looked down to see Kyungsoo holding onto you, half-lidded eyes gazing up at you as he whispered one word.

“Stay.”

You step towards the bed then, getting on your knees on the floor so that your face would be at the same level as his. You raised the hand that he wasn’t holding to stroke his cheek gently as you murmured, “Sleep, Soo.”

He was quiet, his eyes still dark and intense as they remained locked with yours. Your heart thudded as you briefly wondered if he’d come to his senses and if he remembered everything that he’d just revealed to you but then he opens his mouth again.

“Do you know something?” His voice is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret and you shake your head quietly.

“You always smell like the bakery,” he whispers, smiling softly in a way that made your heart ache. “You smell like fresh bread and sweet vanilla and strong coffee. You smell like happiness. Like home.”

A soft sigh of disbelief escapes your parted lips at his words, his eyes having closed off while he spoke as he slowly fell into deep slumber.

You were so goddamn blind.

“We’re both idiots,” you snort quietly as you gently loosen his grip around your wrist and walk out of the room.

But you decided to be the bigger idiot.

You heard Kyungsoo shuffling inside your room around noon the next day, making you glance at your bedroom door from where you sat on the couch.

The night had seemed to last forever. After putting Kyungsoo to bed, you’d spent the entire night tossing and turning on the couch restlessly. You briefly considered waking up and baking something or even heading to the bakery so that you could angrily complete that lemon meringue pie you’d left half-baked but your body was extremely exhausted and refused to even move. All the activities of the strenuous day yesterday had completely worn you out yet your brain refused to cooperate, unwilling to grant you the bliss of sleep as your thoughts grew louder with each passing hour of the night. Kyungsoo’s words, his drunken confession all echoed like a haunting melody within your head, forcing you to reminisce and reassess every moment that you’d spent together, viewing it in a light that you’d assumed to only be exclusive to you but had perhaps been the same light that he’d been seeing you in as well.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You felt more conflicted than you did when he had stood you up and you began to wonder if it had even been a good idea to even go to the club last night.

Should you have even brought him back to your place?

You could hear the shower in your room then and you knew he was probably washing off the events from last night, the stench of all the drinks that he’d downed. You sighed as you grabbed his chopsticks for the Chinese take-out that you’d just ordered—both of your go-to hangover food—since you knew he’d probably be hungry. You hadn’t bothered with breakfast because you knew that he wouldn’t wake up by then so you’d just settled on brunch.

The door opens and your heart jumps as you look up, eyes locking with Kyungsoo. He’d found one of his tees that he’d given you—“you stole it,” he insisted—and sweatpants that he’d left here from a previous sleepover. He looked better than he did last night and you cleared your throat, ignoring the nervous flutter in your chest as you asked blankly, “How’s your head?”

Kyungsoo nodded, stepping forward into the room. “It’s a lot better now. I woke up in the night with a headache and had the aspirin before sleeping again.” He hesitated before murmuring, “Thanks.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why’d you drink so much then, idiot?” You snort as you start to stand up, grabbing your phone.

You gesture to the food on the table. “I ordered Chinese. Have lunch and take another aspirin before you head back… home. Or to the hotel. Or wherever.”

Kyungsoo frowned at you as you searched for your bag. “Wait, what? You’re leaving?”

“I have a bakery to run, Kyungsoo,” you snort, finding your bag and grabbing your car keys as you head for the door while muttering, “I can’t keep coming in late because of you—”

“Y/N, I remember last night.”

You stop, hand freezing on the doorknob as your entire body goes still. Your back is facing him but you can feel his gaze on your back, feel the weight of it.

Kyungsoo’s usual deadpan tone sounds more wry than you’d ever heard it then as he says, “I remember last night so you can stop faking it and talk to me.”

Shit, shit, shit.

You take a breath, forcing yourself to slowly turn around and face him. You relent, throwing the keys and bag aside, crossing your arms in an effort to not reveal the way that your hands are slightly trembling as you nonchalantly reply, “I’m not faking anything, Kyungsoo, I am very mad at you.”

He rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to answer but you cut him off by asking, “How much?”

His gaze shifts to you and you clarify, “How much do you remember?”

“Enough,” Kyungsoo replies, carefully watching you now. When you don’t falter, he concedes, “Enough to know that I confessed to you.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you uncross your arms. “Look, it doesn’t have to be—”

“Is this your answer?”

You stop then, looking up at him with wide eyes. You frown at the shift in tone, noticing the despair that he was trying to hide in his expression as you ask, “What do you mean?”

“The fact that you’re pretending that nothing happened,” he answered, stepping forward as he spoke. “The fact that you’re ignoring everything I told you last night. Does it mean that this is never happening? That you’ve never liked me the way I’ve liked you?”

Your eyes are wide, back pressed to the door as he stood in front of you. The words that you wished to respond—even though you had no idea what they even were—were stuck in your throat as you gazed up at him, your breath growing shorter as you felt him raise his arm beside you to place it on the door as if to cage you in.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name, his close proximity and husky voice making your head feel like it was going to spin. Your lips parted of their own accord, head slightly arching back to look up at him as his plush lips hovered over your own. His face was close enough that his warm breath was mingling with yours and you could smell the minty toothpaste—your minty toothpaste.

Your heart was hammering so loudly in your chest that you could hear it, your eyes greedily drinking in the close proximity as they ran over his face with enough scrutiny to commit every detail to memory—the way his long lashes looked against his pale cheek, the tiny almost invisible mole right over his upper lip and the way his eyes looked like they were shining from within as they gazed at you.

Your breath audibly hitched in your throat as he leaned his head slightly to the side, angling his lips to yours until there was only a fraction of space between your mouths. You held your breath as he murmured, the words brushing against your parted lips, “Stop me, Y/N.”

And then Kyungsoo was kissing you.

Your eyes seemed to refuse to close, your body frozen like a statue and your arms were immobile at your sides as you felt his plush lips press against yours. It was light, hesitant and tentative like he was waiting for you to shove him off any second but you could feel the blood pounding through your head and coursing within every vein at that moment.

Fuck it.

You raised your hands tentatively, closing your eyes and almost collapsed back into the door as you started kissing him back. You felt Kyungsoo move his hand from the door then to gingerly place it on your hip and his other hand took your raised one that was hovering between your bodies to place it on his shoulder.

You made a soft sound of approval as you finally melted into the kiss, closing your eyes and digging your fingers into his shoulder to kiss him harder. Kyungsoo grabbed you by your hip then, holding you flush against him as he started kissing you more passionately while you dropped cupped his face with both your hands. You traced your tongue over his lower lip slowly and he was instantly parting his lips, slipping his own tongue into your mouth. Your guess was right earlier, you could taste the mint and as corny as it was, it had never tasted sweeter.

The kiss grew tender as he realised how breathless you seemed to be getting, both of your pulling away slightly while smiling against each other’s lips. Your eyes fluttered open to see Kyungsoo was smiling so hard that his eyes had become little crescents as they looked at you.

“You didn’t stop me,” Kyungsoo breathed out, sounding incredulous enough that you let out a soft laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated his words from last night, thumb stroking his cheek affectionately before correcting, “Well, we both are. I wouldn’t have stopped you ever, Soo.”

He pauses, gaze shifting from both your eyes as he asks quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For the same reasons you didn’t,” you replied with a sheepish smile. You suddenly grin with the memory of last night as you say, “If only you told me earlier, I could have said that I’m whipped for you too.”

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrowed at that, nose scrunching cutely in confusion as he repeats, “Too?”

“You said last night that you’re whipped for me like whipped cream. That you’re whipped like my Eton mess, like my pies, like my custard—”

“Oh my god, stop!” Kyungsoo buried his face in the crook of your neck in embarrassment, making you burst out laughing aloud as you fully wrapped your arms around his back and held him to you. His voice was muffled as he mumbled, “Most of those things aren’t even whipped.”

“I know!” You laughed again and pulled him away enough from you to look at his face. His cheeks were faintly rosy and it reminded you of last night again.

His voice is grumpy as he asks, “What else did I say last night?”

“A lot of things,” you teased, grinning as you kissed the corner of his mouth. “Enough to torture you for at least a decade.” You gasp exaggeratedly, raising your voice dramatically as you wonder aloud, “Who would have ever thought that Korea’s favourite actor Do Kyungsoo who has an internal breakdown every time he has to do aegyo and act cute was actually so cheesy and corny? That he would look me in the eyes, with his chest out while proudly saying that he is whipped for me like my whipped cream, that he would rather eat me than my custard—”

Kyungsoo grabbed your face then and shutting you up by kissing you again. You grinned against his mouth as he wrapped his arms fully around your waist, lifting you up against the door so that your legs curl around his lean hips.

“Aren’t you hungry?” You murmured into the kiss.

“Yeah, for you,” he countered, kissing your jawline. His husky voice right in your ear made the small hairs on the back of your neck rise as he groaned, “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?”

“Mm, show me,” you hummed, taking his face into your hands again as you kissed him harder. You thought Kyungsoo would lead you to the couch but he carries you to your bedroom instead, laying you down on the edge so that your legs are hanging off the edge of the bed. You blink up at him, pouting slightly as you clutch the front of your shirt—his shirt. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow then, smirking slightly as he asks, “In a hurry, are we?”

“You think you’re the only one who’s been waiting forever?” You retort, using your elbows to push yourself back further up the mattress. You grab his hand and yank him harshly towards you, making him stumble slightly as he almost fell over your body while you started lifting his shirt off of him.

Kyungsoo raises his arms, helping you pull off the thin shirt and you immediately grab his shoulders, pushing him onto the bed beneath you. He blinks up at you in surprise as you throw your leg over his waist to straddle him, his gaze questioning as he looks at the blouse that you still had on.

“I’m going to be so late for work,” you muttered, pulling the blouse off your neck and throwing it across the room as Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at you.

“Chanyeol can hold the fort down for one day, Y/N,” he snorts as he sits upright against the headboard to grab your hips and seat you on his lap properly. You feel the growing bulge beneath his sweatpants brush against your clothed core and your lips part open of their own accord, making him smirk almost dangerously at you as he murmurs, “Has anyone told you that you’re a workaholic, babygirl?”

The word is so foreign from his lips, his expression so foreign yet familiar as he gripped your hips tightly to adjust you right over the tent in his pants. He leans forward and kisses you with an almost vehement fervour, trailing his hungry mouth over your cheeks, jawline and down the curve of your neck. You sigh softly, eyes closing and head arching back as you feel his plush mouth suck on the sensitive soft spot on your throat, his tongue licking incessantly.

Kyungsoo’s hands move almost unnoticeably, curving around your back to unclasp your bra as he marks up your neck. There’s a fire coursing through your body, making you feel as if you’d been plugged into a circuit—every place on your body that he was touching; his lips, his fingers, his firm thighs spread beneath your own, his warm breath were all sending crackles and tingles of electricity through your veins.

You could feel the outline of his hardness against your thin shorts now, your wet heat pressed right up against him and his fingers expertly pull the bra off your body. His cool fingers are cupping your breasts then, thumbs stroking your nipples experimentally as he teasingly thrusts his hips up into you.

A loud moan leaves your lips unintentionally at the sparks of arousal ignited by his touch and your eyes snap open as you hear yourself, feeling Kyungsoo still slightly beneath you at the very porn-star-like noise that you’d just made.

He pulls away from your neck to look up at your wide eyes and you’re already opening your mouth to apologise, feeling the embarrassment swallowing you but he grabs the side of your neck then, kissing you fiercely.

“You sound so fucking beautiful,” he groaned huskily, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against yours, his voice a breathy whisper as he said, “To think that I could have been hearing those moans all this time.”

Your heart swells with an emotion that you can’t quite describe, an overwhelming need to feel as much of him taking over your senses as you crash your lips to his heatedly. Kyungsoo responds immediately, kissing you back just as hard as his fingers continue playing with your breasts and tweaking the nipples while you moan just for him.

Your own hand that had been on his chest lowers down his torso and slips underneath the elastic band of his sweatpants. Your fingers immediately wrap around his length, eliciting a groan at the back of his throat as you smile into the kiss while stroking him up and down.

Lips latching onto the spot beneath his ear, you kiss and suck at the skin gently while pressing him back against the headboard. Teasingly, you explore his length leisurely with your hand and feel the way that it is already slick with pre-cum, using your thumb to spread the fluid around the slit.

You gasp against his neck when his hands tighten harshly around your breasts, fingers squeezing your nipple roughly enough that you felt it all the way in your throbbing pussy. Quickening the pace of your wrist, you continue circling the soft bulbous head of his dick with your thumb while he gropes your breasts. You pull away then to look at him, watching the way his chest heaves with the movement of your hand and his eyes flutter dazedly at you.

His gaze is unfocused and you lean forward then, kissing him as you start stroking his length with repeated up-and-down motions. Kyungsoo grabs your wrist then, stopping you and he pulls away from your mouth enough to say, “You’re going to make me cum like this.”

Kyungsoo’s hands find your hips then, tugging at the black shorts that you had on and you let him slip his hands beneath the waistband, pulling both your shorts and panties down your bare thighs. You raise your ass off his lap and yank the material from around your ankles hurriedly before straddling him again.

You grab his erection then, holding your breath and watch Kyungsoo’s face, noticing the awe on his face as you rub his head over your slit that was glistening with arousal.

“Oh fuck,” he curses lowly as you guide his dick inside you, the head parting open your dripping slit and your eyes were already fluttering at the immense pleasure you felt with just his tip inside you. You didn’t even realise the way you’d been whimpering until Kyungsoo shifts his gaze higher to watch your face, staring at you as you arched your head back while slowly pushing yourself down onto his length.

Your free hand is on his shoulder, his own wrapped around your wrist as you whimpered his name breathily when you feel his thick length stretching your tight walls open in the most pleasurable way. Kyungsoo’s arms wrap around your waist then as you begin moving up and down on his lap, riding his dick at an already speedy pace while you felt your lower abdomen tighten with arousal.

His plush lips latched onto your breast then and you moaned loudly, grabbing the back of his head and holding it to your chest as he sucked your nipple into his warm mouth. The wet warmth of his tongue and lips, along with the way his dick felt inside you as the tip brushed against your clit with every movement you made all had you soon trembling on his lap as you tried to reach both your highs.

Growing impatient, Kyungsoo grabs your hips then and pulls you off of his length, making you gasp at the sudden feeling of emptiness, your walls desperately clenching around nothing. He shifts you around so that you’re lying back on the mattress, hands quickly removing the sweatpants that he still had on before crawling back atop you and spreading your legs wide.

His eyes are dark and heavy as they watch your face clearer then, memorising the way your lids flutter when he pushes his dick into your throbbing wetness again. You mewl softly as he fills you up again, already addicted to the way he feels inside you as you wrap your arms around his back.

You don’t get a moment longer to relish in the feeling as Kyungsoo immediately starts moving his hips at a quick and snappy pace against you, thrusting into you roughly enough that you can hear the echoes of skin slapping against skin. The wet squelching noises of your core become louder with every thrust, your walls tightening with the looming orgasm as he fucks you and you don’t realise how loud you are until he lowers his face to your chest.

Walls clenching around him tightly as if to suck him inside you, he groans at how utterly tight you feel as he thrusts faster. Your pussy convulses as his teeth sinks into your sore breast, Kyungsoo realising how sensitive you are over there by the way your body instantly reacts to him as you feel yourself finally fall off the edge.

Your nails are digging into his back and you groan as Kyungsoo’s hips stutter against yours, the rapid way that your pussy clenches and unclenches around him as you cum setting off his own orgasm. You gasp as you feel his warm heat flood into your slickness, filling you up as he continues sloppily thrusting to draw out both your orgasms.

You’re whining his name into his flushed neck as you slowly come down from your high, hand lowering to the small of his back as he collapses on top of you. He buries his face in your shoulder, breathing hard as you wrap your other hand around the back of his head while trying to catch your own breath. Feeling him soften inside you, he begins to pull away slightly but you wrap your leg around him and push him to his side so that he is still inside you with your body still pressed up against him.

You’d always thought Kyungsoo looked beautiful but you don’t think you’d ever seen him as radiant as he was right now, basking in a post-orgasm glow as he smiles at you. His gaze is filled with so much warmth and affection, the same expression that he’d had yesterday at the club when he’d first seen you and you feel shy all over again.

“Hi,” you mutter embarrassedly and Kyungsoo laughs softly, nudging your nose with his own.

“Hi,” he teases back, grinning.

He wraps his arm around your waist then, pulling you to his chest and you snuggle in that familiar warmth, smiling when you feel him bury his nose in your hair and inhale, remembering his drunken words from earlier.

‘You smell like happiness. Like home’.

You tightened your arms around Kyungsoo then, finally being able to realise the emotions that you always felt around him, that you always felt with him and that you felt now when you held him. The way that your heart had always swelled with every touch and gaze of his, that indescribable happiness that took over your entire body every time that he came back from a shoot and you had your arms around him again.

Best friend or boyfriend, Kyungsoo was your happiness.

He was your home.

380 notes · View notes

beckzorz · 6 years ago

Text

Out of Nowhere (2/21)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OFC Summary: An offhand comment at work draws Jesse Kaplan into the orbit of Bucky Barnes. Bucky’s excited at the prospect of normalcy, but there’s nothing normal about falling in love with the Winter Soldier. Words: 3577 A/N: HELLO FROM PART 2!!! Enter Bucky! :D And enter some unconventional formatting... A lot of this is drawn from my personal experiences, and a lot of my personal experiences involve texting my friends about what’s going on a hundred times a day XD (Sorry @kentuckybarnes!) The song for this chapter is “Solitude” by Duke Ellington from In a Sentimental Mood. Hope you enjoy :3

PART 2: “SOLITUDE”

Today, 6:38 PM

itsadrian: ahhh you look great!!!!! jesse.kaplan: Thanks :3333 jesse.kaplan: I’d feel better about this if I had a cocktail dress newer than the 1950s itsadrian: lol itsadrian: that’s what you get for only buying vintage clothes jesse.kaplan: My jeans are brand new Adrian… it’s my soul that’s the Real Old™ around here jesse.kaplan: don’t judge itsadrian: can’t help it itsadrian: at least it’s a nice one tho! the 50s are back in itsadrian: and black is classic itsadrian: i think if you went in a dress from the 40s you’d raise some Actual Old But Also Young™ eyebrows itsadrian: 50s seem pretty safe in comparison jesse.kaplan: don’t judge… but I had that same thought process haha itsadrian: SMART itsadrian: that’s why i keep you around :P jesse.kaplan: Well thank god otherwise I’d be having a panic attack on the metro which is never a great look jesse.kaplan: my roommate said it looked ok but I trust you more haha jesse.kaplan: oh geez here we go ttyl!! itsadrian: take a selfie with pepper potts!!!! byeeee

—

Jesse stuffed her phone in her clutch and adjusted its long strap across her body as she ran up the stairs to street level. The benefit was at a fancy hotel in Midtown, a block and a half from the subway. She was grateful she hadn’t given in to the urge to wear her fanciest shoes; her low black heels weren’t debilitating. Not yet, anyway. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too much standing in place.

She hummed jazz to herself as she walked briskly along, not meeting anyone’s gaze. Was it obvious where she was going, dressed up as she was? The benefit wasn’t hugely publicized, or at least she hoped it wasn’t. Sure, there might be a few supers there, but not the whole Avengers squad.

As soon as she rounded the corner, she sighed in relief. Though guests trickled in, the photographers corded off from the entry ignored them. No doubt they were waiting for the famous people.

Jesse hurried to the door, fished out the invite on her phone, and flashed it to the security guard as she went in. She heard sudden calls from the street, but the doors closed before she could see who was arriving.

Inside was cool, fancy—art deco carpeting, gilded columns, a gleaming reception desk. The odd tourist gawked; Jesse ignored them as best she could as she followed the directions of the smiling tuxedoed butler to the ballroom. She steeled herself and went inside.

Alright, so the room was gorgeous. A snazzy bar hugged the left wall, not far from the door, and a small raised stage complete with a Stark Foundation podium was on the far wall. Numbered tables set for ten took up much of the room, but there was a small area for schmoozing by the bar. Jesse brightened when she spotted the quartet just about to play—and a dance floor! Maybe they’d play some jazz, or swing…

Jesse deflated. She didn’t know anyone here.

“Excuse me,” someone said behind her, and Jesse apologized and made her way over to the bar, a vague smile fixed on her face. All she got was a water; no way was she drinking alcohol when she had to talk to strangers. She stood a few steps away from the bar, watching the few couples swaying to the music with a critical eye.

“Jesse?”

Jesse jumped and turned. A fellow dancer! Someone loved her tonight. “Mike! What are you doing here?”

“My company is getting a nod,” Mike said, grinning back down at her. He was pale and very tall—well over six feet—and wonderfully dressed, considering she’d only ever seen him in t-shirt and jeans. “You?”

“My colleague’s in the hospital, so I’m a last-minute replacement. She’ll recover,” Jesse added when Mike’s face screwed up. “If you’re here, I’m not sorry to have to replace her anymore though! How are you?”

“Pretty good, you?”

“Same old. Tired, but what else is new. Anyway, this isn’t exactly perfect music, but wanna dance?”

“Of course,” Mike answered.

Jesse chugged her water and left her empty cup and clutch at her table before hurrying back to Mike as a new song was starting. It had a better beat than the first song, and they snagged a spot near the band.

As soon as they starting pulsing to the music, Jesse’s lingering anxiety completely melted away. There was something magical about dancing with a good lead. Nothing else seemed to matter, and it was so easy to close your eyes and let yourself be led. And Mike was a very good lead.

Once they started doing more complex moves, where Mike was alternatively at arm’s length and swinging her around him, Jesse opened her eyes to avoid collisions. The song was good, predictable—they both hit a break in the music and grinned at each other.

Then Jesse recognized a face in the little crowd that was gathering around to watch them, and she couldn’t help but stare.

Sergeant Barnes.

His expression was severe, intense; his hair was pulled back tightly. Combined with a high forehead and his sharp suit, he looked two steps shy of terrifying. After a moment, he met her gaze. Jesse forced a smile and looked away, heat rising to her cheeks. She kept her eyes on Mike, only daring to look as far up as the onlookers’ collars when she wasn’t facing her friend.

The music was fun, her dancing was good, so why did the guy who had been so impressed by her work look so displeased with her now? Why couldn’t he smile like everyone else, and save her from being so worked up as to lose enjoyment in her one consolation tonight? She felt someone staring, cutting a line across her arms, her collarbone—she didn’t dare look to see if it was still him. She had to talk to him later.

The song finally ended, and Jesse thanked Mike with a customary hug. Some of the onlookers clapped, and Jesse warmed a little as she smiled shyly around at them. Barnes had vanished, thank god.

Jesse slipped away to get her cup, disturbed. She couldn’t think of Barnes like that; he’d done so much for BCEI. And Marilyn liked him. She took a breath to clear her head and arrived at her table.

Oh.

Well.

Sergeant Barnes was sitting next to her things. An old woman was chatting to him from his other side. Barnes glanced at her as she approached, but almost immediate turned his whole body to face her. His gaze was less severe than before; maybe the effect of his companion?

“Hello,” Jesse said, doing her best to maintain a genuine smile.

“Hey,” Barnes said. His voice was soft, a little melancholy, and not exactly friendly. Still, a big improvement.

Jesse slid into her seat and wrapped her hands nervously around her glass, which a waiter came by to refill. The tables were awfully crowded; there was no room to avoid Barnes' gaze without seeming rude. She took a steadying breath and looked back up at him as confidently as she could.

Okay, she knew he was ripped, but his face was oddly delicate. Maybe his sad eyes, or his mouth—Jesse cut herself off.

“I’m here for BCEI instead Marilyn,” she told him.

Barnes stiffened. His eyes narrowed as he leaned back a little to regard her with a suddenly terrifying demeanor. “Oh? What happened to Marilyn?”

“She broke her ankle,” Jesse blurted, her own eyes widening as his narrowed even further. “She’s alright though! Just a fall. A cat or… something. I’m sorry.”

“Bucky, contain yourself before you make this poor girl faint,” the old woman on Barnes' other side cut in. She leaned forward a bit and smiled, not unkindly, at Jesse. “You dance beautifully.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Jesse said, cheeks hot. She stared into her water, trying to relax.

“I’m sorry,” Barnes said, low and repentant. “I was looking forward to seeing her.”

Jesse forced a little laugh. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too! She was looking forward to coming.”

“But you weren’t?” he asked. She looked up at that. He had his eyebrows raised a little, and she flushed anew. Was it so obvious?

“I only found out I was coming this morning,” she hedged. “I’ve never been to anything like this. I don’t think I’ll know if I should’ve looked forward to it until it’s over.”

He let out a rueful sigh. “Smart.”

Jesse sipped her water rather than agree with him. Far be it from her to tout her own intelligence. Though she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking of. He had to be thinking of something specific. She wondered.

The old woman on Barnes' other side reclaimed his attention with what turned out to be a long-winded story. Jesse couldn’t help but admire his quiet attentiveness. Perhaps listening to other people was easier than talking for him? She often found it so among strangers.

Five minutes in, the band quieted. The rest of their table filled in as Pepper Potts mounted the stage, a hulking man in a suit close at her heels. Jesse tried to figure out who in the crowd was a donor and who, like her, was a beneficiary. It was easier with the women—the rich ones had nicer, blingier jewelry. The men… all wore suits.

Potts began her speech, silencing all other conversations. “Hi and welcome to Stark Industries’ annual benefit…”

Jesse listened, half attentive, as Potts introduced various people representing various organizations. Each one went on stage to applause and shook Potts’ hand (continued applause), made a short speech about their Good Works (followed by applause), and left the stage. Jesse began to tune it all out, but then she heard Barnes' name and perked up.

“—Sergeant James Barnes, for his work with the Brooklyn Children’s Education Initiative.”

A smattering of applause echoed through the room as Barnes stood. The couple across the table from Jesse paled as they stared at him in fresh realization. Had they really not recognized him? Jesse glanced around; the shock and whispers were poorly masked by polite clapping. Apparently he wasn’t as instantly recognizable as she’d assumed.

A sudden burst of panic flared in her gut. Would Barnes' checkered history color BCEI’s opportunities in the future? Had she made a mistake soliciting his help?

She stared anxiously around the crowd, then back to Barnes. He stepped nimbly between the tables and up the steps to the podium, shook Pepper Potts’ hand, and adjusted the mic to his six-foot frame.

“Thanks,” Barnes said. His voice was soft, round, and vaguely ironic, but he met her eyes from across the room and gave her a serious little nod. Surprised, Jesse nodded back, and Barnes looked up to the prompter. “The Brooklyn Children’s Education Initiative provides the opportunity for underprivileged kids in my hometown to be fully engaged with their education. Their after-school programs at schools around Brooklyn welcome students of all backgrounds. I was lucky enough to participate in a program about the Great Depression, and it was inspiring to watch the students take control of their own learning. BCEI is a great cause. Thanks, Pepper, and everyone else who enables them to continue their good work.”

Once he stepped back, Jesse relaxed. It was so obviously scripted that she felt no qualms in only clapping as long as most others. It wasn’t any skin off his back if she didn’t give a standing ovation for her own organization.

Best of all, the speech completely sidestepped his questionable past.

When Barnes made it back to the table, Jesse smiled up at him briefly, finally at ease about her attendance. She was done! BCEI had done its part. As soon as the rest of the speeches were done, she could leave, dance with Mike, make small talk—

Well, hopefully not small talk.

As the next speech went underway, Jesse looked through the crowd for Mike, finally spotting him a few tables away next to a middle-aged blond woman. Mike was busy watching the speech, but the woman eventually glanced Jesse’s way. Jesse gave a little smile and looked back to the stage, embarrassed.

Pepper Potts finished her closing statements and left the stage (to applause) as the band picked back up. Jesse turned at last to Barnes and cleared her throat.

Once he turned to her, she said, “Thank you for your speech.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. He took a sip of his drink; Jesse realized he too was just drinking water, and wondered why. Habit, or necessity?

“I don’t know your name,” Barnes said suddenly.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m Jesse.”

He studied her face. “You apologize a lot,” he said. “Why?”

“I dunno, Jewish guilt?”

“Ha.” Barnes said, but he was not smiling.

Of course—he’d worked for Nazis. Jesse winced.

“Alternatively, bad parenting?” she offered.

Barnes gave a tiny smile—his first all night. Jesse almost cheered.

“Hi, Jesse.”

Jesse spun in her seat. “Mike! Hi!” She smiled up at her friend. Mike glanced at Barnes with muted curiosity.

“Wanna dance?” he asked.

She smiled and jumped to her feet. Let Barnes be awkward at someone else. “Take a guess.”

–

Jesse danced with Mike for a single glorious song. When a stranger asked her to dance, she accepted, but instantly regretted it. She smiled tensely the whole time, using as much force as she dared to keep her shoulder from popping out of its socket. Once the song was over, she fled back to Mike with a relieved sigh.

While they were dancing, someone kicked the back of Jesse’s ankle. She stumbled with a wince; Mike gripped her elbow, steadying her.

“I’m sorry! Are you okay?” she asked automatically, turning to face whoever had stepped on her.

It was Barnes, dancing with the old woman from their table. His face was pinched, but as she spoke his expression grew incredulous.

“I kicked you,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, it happens all the time,” Jesse said. She rolled her ankle, containing a wince. Barnes just stared at her. She smiled, hoping to diffuse—reassure him. “So I’ll have a bruise! It’s the cost of doing business. Not a big deal. You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, still looking at her as though she had two heads.

“Good,” Jesse said. She nodded with finality and turned back to Mike. As they finished out the song, she occasionally met Barnes' eyes. It was hard to look friendly under the force of his confusion, especially as she considered the necessity of asking after the well-being of someone who had not been hurt when that someone was a supersoldier.

Of course Barnes was fine. He was engineered to be fine.

Physically, anyway. Who knew what was going on in his head.

The song ended—Mike timed a dip perfectly—and Jesse hugged him and turned to get some water.

“Would you like to dance?”

Jesse blinked up at Barnes. He stood in her way, his gloved hand held out to her. She looked down at it, then back to him. Why was he asking? Out of politeness? He’d been more confounded by her than anything…

More importantly, did she actually want to dance with him? Would he hurt her? He didn’t seem to know how to express himself in public. Did that translate to dancing?

Well, the old woman had finished her dance with him in one piece, so she probably would too.

“Okay,” she said finally, and put her hand in his.

The corners of his mouth turned up, though she wouldn’t call it a smile exactly. He put his other arm—his flesh-and-bones arm—under hers and across her back, drawing her in so close that her nose brushed his jacket until she turned her head aside. She let out a shallow breath and tried to relax as the music started, simple and slow and gentle. His muscles shifted with his movements, and a sudden flush spread over her face as she realized how close they were. Jesse swallowed. Should she try to make conversation? Should she just bear the silence? What would they even talk about? They’d covered all the normal things back at the table…

“You dance real well,” Barnes said suddenly.

Jesse hummed her thanks and smiled despite herself. If someone who had lived through the actual swing era thought she was doing a good job even when she was so damn uncomfortable, she had to be good.

He moved them a little apart and studied her. “And you look… a little out of place.”

“What?!” Jesse laughed, too bewildered to be offended.

“Your dress is out of time. It’s, um…” Barnes frowned. His gloved hand clenched around hers, and her smile fell flat. Her heart twisted at his obvious confusion. God, no wonder he’d stared at her! He couldn’t place her. Captain America had missed everything for all the years he was missing, but the Winter Soldier… hadn’t.

Her face burned. How could she have been so self-centered? Every concern she’d had about Barnes had been all about her, not him. So what if he was awkward, or intimidating? Hadn’t he suffered enough? Hadn’t he earned the right to be free of her judgment?

“It’s from the fifties,” Jesse said at last, glancing at their clasped hands as his hold tightened again. He loosened his grip, chagrined.

“I thought so,” he said. “But—”

“My hair’s very much not fifties,” she added. “That might have thrown you off?”

Barnes tilted his head as he regarded her. She tried not to squirm, but being stared at by a man trying to piece her various incongruent parts together made her flesh crawl. It felt like an eternity before he was satisfied.

“Right,” he said. He let out a breath between his teeth and drew her back in, settling his arm securely around her. “Thank you.”

His mouth was by her ear, and the quiet warmth of his words sent a sudden shiver through her. Unable to speak, she just nodded.

How could such a strange, displaced man make her feel his presence with nothing more than a simple thank you? Dancing with him was so different from dancing with all the other leads she knew. With them, she had familiarity, comfort… There was comfort here too—he knew what he was doing, no question—but it was spiced with something dark. However awkward he was in conversation, they weren’t limited by that now. Behind that uncomfortable veneer, Barnes was dangerous. Somehow, that thrilled her.

Jesse sighed and closed her eyes, trying not to melt into Barnes’ solid hold. Her efforts must have been in vain, as he tightened his arm around her ever so slightly. She expected him to put her back to a safe distance, but… he didn’t.

Well, she’d take it. Whatever danger he posed to his enemies, right now he wasn’t hurting anyone.

The rest of the song passed in a pleasant blur. When it was over, Jesse hesitated before stepping back. Barnes had gone still, but he let her pull away without resistance.

“Thank you,” Jesse said. She smiled tentatively up at him.

Barnes didn’t answer; his eyes were dark and his shoulders tense. He stared down at her, unblinking. Jesse bit her lip, unable to look away. After a tense moment, he let out a quick breath, nodded sharply, and stalked away.

Jesse stood immobilized on the dance floor until Mike came by with his own water.

“You okay, Jesse?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said. She shook off the strange aftereffects of her dance with Barnes. “I think I’m going to head out. It was great seeing you! Will you be at the dance on Thursday?”

“I should be,” Mike said. He gave her a quick hug. “Bye.”

“See ya.”

Jesse made her way back to her table, still half in a daze as she gathered her clutch and wove her way back to the door. She was almost there when someone put a firm hand on her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

It was Barnes. His face was back to its normal solemnity, but Jesse flushed all the same at the sudden memory of being held against him.

“Where is Marilyn staying?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I can find out,” she offered reflexively, then frowned. “Although I don’t know how to get in touch with you.”

“Give me your phone,” he said. “Unlocked.”

Jesse blinked and did as he asked. There was no arguing with that tone of voice. Barnes started a new text, and Jesse raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you worried I’d give your number to someone else?”

He gave her a dry look, but paused. “Are you going to?”

“No…”

“So I’m not worried.” He sent the text and passed her phone back to her. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Jesse tucked her phone away, bewildered. “You and Marilyn must have really hit it off.”

“She’s great. No nonsense, no judgment.”

Jesse bit the inside of her lip. “I suppose so.”

Barnes’ eyes narrowed at once. “What do you mean?”

“Oh—well, everyone’s judgmental. It’s just that Marilyn is usually right, so it’s not so obvious. Or annoying. At least for sensible folk. You know.”

Barnes smiled, his face transformed into something sweet and warm. Jesse couldn’t help but smile back.

#bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes fic #winter soldier x ofc #winter soldier fic #becca writes #the not for profit fic

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bigherosixfeels · 7 years ago

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Hey hey :) I was wondering if you could make a Hiro x reader fan fic? I have this cute vision in my mind that a cute and sweet girl comes to the lucky cat cafe, and drinks cocoa and draws an outstanding drawing that captures Hiro's attention and they end up having a nice conversation and becomes friends? Just an idea :)

Aw, that sounds so adorable!

Eye For Art

Fandom: Big Hero 6

Rating: K

Characters: Hiro Hamada and the Reader

Word Count: 1,270

Summary: anon makes it clear :)

Taking another sip of your warm, steamy cocoa, you cherished the peaceful scenery before you. A charming and quiet, yet popular cafe felt like the perfect spot for you to complete a daily drawing. Placing your mug down, you reached over for your purse, unzipping it to take out your sketchbook. You flipped through the pages, quickly admiring your past work before finding a blank page.

The only thing you questioned was what you were going to draw. Perhaps your half empty cocoa mug. Or maybe that old lady sitting in the corner, staring out the window. The more you looked around the room, the more potential you saw for drawing. Grabbing your purse again, you took out your phone, snapping a quick picture of the view in front of you.

You began to draw, starting with the tables. Once those were finished you sketched in the chairs and those that were sitting in them. Looking at the picture you took, you smiled seeing the middle-aged woman who gave you your drink taking someone else’s order. This small detail would definitely add to how inviting this little cafe is.

Unfortunately, you grew frustrated drawing this woman. You couldn’t seem to get her short, wavy hair the way you wanted and her proportions didn’t turn out right. Erasing yet another failed attempt, you decided to move on and draw the counter. Sketching the pastries inside seemed to be a lot less challenging. Working your way up from that, you drew in an employee cleaning the counter and the menu board on the wall.

The overall sketch was nearly complete. All you had to do now was sketch in the walls, flooring and somehow draw the cafe owner to your liking. Putting your pencil down, you took your last sip of cocoa; automatically feeling more calm about the final touches to your illustration.

As you started drawing in the walls, you couldn’t help, but feel as if you were being watched. You initially shook this odd feeling away. It was possible that another customer was just standing behind you and would leave soon. Though that wasn’t the case. Curiosity built up inside you, so you turned around to see if anyone was, in fact, within your radius.

Sure enough, someone was behind you, but it was no customer. It turned out to be one the employees with a tub full of dishes at his side. Although he was a bit of a distance away, he still had his eyes locked on your sketchbook. Despite knowing someone had been watching, it still shocked you enough to jump in your chair.

This took the raven-haired boy aback. He hadn’t expected you to turn around or be so startled by his presence. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, his free hand now rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I-I was just looking at your drawing. You’re really good.”

Despite still being tensed up from the shock of someone looming over you, you were flattered by this compliment. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t think of you were that great of an artist. Hearing positive feedback on your work, even over something as simple as a rough sketch, helped motivate you.

“Really?” You asked, your voice still slightly shaken from being spooked. “Wow, thanks! This isn’t my best work, but I’m glad you like it.”

The boy rose a brow at you before examining your unfinished work. You felt a little self conscious of him doing so, but the grin on his face reassured you otherwise. “Are you kidding? This is really cool. I’ve never seen anyone draw the cafe before.” He chuckled to himself, continuing to admire your work. As his eyes wandered around the page, a certain detail seemed to catch his attention. “Hey…is that…me?”

Looking to where the employee was pointing, you could tell just by the hair alone that it was him in your drawing. “Oh uh yeah…that is you,” you confirmed. “I took a picture a little while ago and you were by the counter. I hope it’s okay.”

You thought maybe he had a problem being drawn at first, but you were proven wrong by the laugh he gave you. “It’s cool. No one’s ever drawn me before. I think I turned out well.”

You managed a soft giggle in return. “I wish I could say the same about the owner. I can’t seem to get her to look right at all.”

“Don’t worry about that. Aunt Cass would be thrilled to know that someone drew her no matter how it turned out.”

His aunt? You thought to yourself. Now I really want to get her done right. “If you say so.” For some reason, you had expected the conversation to have ended by now, but it didn’t. In fact, you were actually enjoying talking to this employee. He seemed friendly and genuinely interested in your work. As busy as he seemed with work, you wanted to keep talking with him, even if it would be cut short. “So, are you much of an artist?”

Shrugging, the boy said, “Not really. I’m more into robotics, but I do have to draw sketches whenever I make something.” He glanced over to the empty chair across from you. “Do you mind if I…” he trailed off, walking closer towards the seat.

“Not at all.”

Placing the tub of dishes to the floor, he sat down, reaching for his notepad and pen. You watched as he quickly started to doodle away. You had to admit, you were impressed. He was drawing with a pen and didn’t seem to make any major mistakes with…well you weren’t sure what he was drawing. Having this quick sketch be a surprise was a little exciting.

“Alright, here it is,” he announced, turning the notepad around. A smile grew on your face seeing the his fast sketch of what looked to be a rather plump cat.

“Cute,” you told him, appreciating how well the doodle appeared despite how little time he spent on it. Nonetheless it was actually done well. The fur looked fluffy and the bell for a collar was a nice detail to add. “You know, if robotics doesn’t work out for you, you’d make a good artist.”

The boy shook his head at you followed by a comical eye roll. “I never considered that possibility, but I’ll keep it in mind. Besides, I’ve gotten used to drawing Mochi by now.”

You would have laughed, but a thought had just occurred to you. You had been talking to this employee for at least ten minutes now and you hadn’t even introduced yourself yet. Of course, you hadn’t originally planned to do so, but given that your conversation was going so well, it only felt like the right thing to do.

“I’m (Y/N) by the way,” giving him a proper introduction.

“Hiro,” he happily exchanged. He held out his hand in a manner of wanting to give you a handshake. However, right as you were about to, a loud voice called out Hiro’s name.

“Enough chit chatting with the customers, Hiro!” His aunt lightly scolded. “I need those dishes washed!”

“Oh uh right!” Hiro scrambled to get out of his chair. Grabbing the tub as fast as he could, he reached over for your finished mug of cocoa. “It was nice meeting you!” He yelled in your direction. “Good luck on the drawing!”

You couldn’t help, but smile. As you got back into your rhythm of sketching, you felt grateful for making a new friend because of this still uncompleted piece.

This was so fun to write! I can definitely see Hiro befriending someone over a drawing. Thanks anon for the request! I hope you enjoyed it :D

#fanfiction #big hero 6 fanfiction #bh6 fanfiction #big hero 6 fanfic #bh6 fanfic #hiro #hiro hamada #hiro x reader #reader x hiro #platonic x reader #platonic!reader #big hero 6 #bh6 #anonymous

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culber-stamets · 7 years ago

Text

Moments in Time

Finally, my first Space Boos fic! I intended for it to be a bit longer, maybe I’ll write a follow-up at some point, because I desperately need more Space Boos content XD

An exploration of how Paul Stamets and Hugh Culber got together

(note: there’s a brief, not-too-graphic sex scene, so consider it nsfw)

It started at the Academy.

Cadet Paul Stamets stood before the classroom door, weight shifting nervously from one foot to the other. A rare thing, to display his anxiety so publicly, but his smug facade had slipped when he got the brief on his class. Only he and three other students were accepted to the Advanced Exochemistry class. That hadn't surprised him, but what threw him was the structure of the final assignment. Two teams of two, a group project. His final grade would be dependent on the competence of another. He didn't like that one bit. Maybe he could convince the professor to change it, or have his part of the assignment weighed for a higher percentage of the grade...

Entering the classroom, he was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice that he was the last one to arrive. “You are four minutes late, Cadet. Please take your seat.” Their professor, a Vulcan, gave him what could be considered an irritated look, and gestured to the lone empty desk in the room. An Andorian, another Vulcan, and another human stared up at him. Sitting in between the former and the latter, Paul kept his head down, only half-listening as their teacher broke down the semester.

“...the groupings have been pre-determined, based on your individual academic performances and areas of study. Cadet Paul Stamets, you will be partnered with Doctor Hugh Culber.”

Well. If the man already had a degree, then perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. Paul chanced a glance up, catching the man's gaze. He didn't miss the way the doctor gave him a once-over, and Paul instinctively returned the favour.

“You may now take five minutes to socialize with your peers,” the Vulcan announced with a disdainful sniff as he finished his overview.

The doctor immediately leaned across his desk, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, you can call me Hugh.”

The corner of Paul's eye twitched. Great, his partner wanted to be friendly. “What's your field of study?” Paul asked, hesitantly shaking the man's hand.

“Medicine. Fast-tracked through medical school, then applied here once I graduated.”

Paul tilted his head, examining the doctor closely. They looked to be about the same age. He must be gifted, to have gone through med school already and be in his final year at the Academy. “Impressive,” he admitted with a huff.

“It's nothing,” Hugh replied with a shrug and an easy smile. “Wasn't expecting a group assignment, but I'm sure you and I get along just fine.”

“Yes, I'm sure we will,” Paul agreed. “So long as you don't bring my grade down,” he blurted out quietly, though not quietly enough.

Hugh's demeanour immediately shifted. “Excuse me?”

Paul waved his hand dismissively. “Oh I'm sure you'll find the subject matter fascinating, but this course is a requirement for my degree. If we're working together, I need your assurance that you'll be taking our assignment seriously.”

“...I take it back.” When Paul tilted his head in confusion, Hugh gave him a dirty look. “You can call me Doctor.”

It continued on their first date.

He hadn't been aware that it was a date, not until his fourth vodka soda. Hugh had been going on about some medical something or other, Paul had found it hard to concentrate. The pleasant warmth from the alcohol animated him, and soon he interrupted the doctor to start babbling about his own field of expertise. It was a character flaw, assuming anyone other than himself could be interested in the very specific field of astromycology, but somehow Hugh listened with rapt attention.

Working with Hugh on their assignment was less irritating than Paul had initially assumed. Sure, the doctor gave as good as he got in attitude, never backing down whenever he was challenged. In time, however, Paul started to find it admirable. And... attractive. He had so few peers he considered his equal, in intelligence or confidence. But Hugh was confident without arrogance, somehow tolerating Paul's ego, but never afraid to call him out on his bullshit. Somehow, the good doctor had earned his respect.

Eventually Hugh did interrupt him, and the conversation devolved into playful banter fueled by lowered inhibitions. He made a glib remark about the recreational use of mushrooms, which had Paul rolling his eyes. “You are quite infuriating, my dear doctor.” The endearment slipped out easily, too easily, and he immediately pushed aside the rest of his drink.

“No, what's infuriating is how cute you are when you laugh,” Hugh murmured behind a bashful smile.

Oh. Paul's pale complexion reddened. “I... uh...”

Suddenly the space between them narrowed as Hugh leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against Paul's. The scientist didn't have time to respond before the light pressure was gone. He was half-convinced he'd imagined it, if it weren't for the way he tingled all over. The realization that Hugh wanted him left him stunned into silence as he tried to process what just happened.

As the silence stretched on, Hugh's expression fell, until he looked completely mortified. “I'm so sorry. I must've misread-” his apology quickly died as Paul's hand darted out, cupping Hugh's cheek, thumb gliding against his bottom lip. “Or... perhaps I didn't.”

Paul's heartbeat thudded in his ears. His hand fell back to his side. “No. No you didn't.”

It didn't move any further than that. But as they stumbled out of the bar, holding each other upright, Paul was keenly aware of several details he'd previously ignored; the faint smell of cologne on Hugh's neck, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how warm and genuine said smile was. I make him smile like that, was the thought that pervaded Paul's mind that night.

Their first night together had been a revelation.

Bedsheets tangled around their legs as they moved as one, their bodies slick with sweat as they ground into each other. Paul's hair was tousled by the fingers gently tugging at it, pulling his head back as Hugh nipped and sucked at his neck. “Don't stop,” he gasped, hands grasping at Hugh's broad shoulders. “H-Hugh...”

“Fuck, you're so good,” Hugh moaned loudly, his pace increasing. “Just... there...!” Paul shouted hoarsely as the sharp thrust sent him over the edge, a haze of hot pleasure wracking his body. He felt Hugh shudder, then slowly stop. They lay still, panting, until Hugh gently extracted himself and flopped next to Paul. He cleaned the scientist up, then himself, while they whispered gentle endearments to each other until exhaustion took them.

A short time later, Paul awoke, staring up at the ceiling. The room was quiet, but his mind was loud, and soon he was restlessly tossing and turning.

“Paul?” Hugh asked sleepily, cracking open an eye. “You okay?”

Paul quickly glanced away, unwilling to look at his lover. “I'm waiting for you to ask me to leave,” he replied bluntly.

He felt Hugh shift beside him, drawing closer. “Do you want me to ask you to leave?”

“No,” he admitted after a long silence. “Ev-” he choked slightly before continuing, “Every time... my previous lovers, they... they'd always ask me to leave. After the first night, or the fifth. Eventually they would.” Paul sighed heavily at the realization of his loneliness. “To be honest, I wasn't expecting anything different this time.”

“I know what that's like.” Paul snorted at the reply, causing Hugh to swat at his arm. “I do. In med school you're too busy for anything else. I thought the Academy would be the same, but...” Hugh bit his lip. “Maybe I want something different. With you.”

“With me?” Paul turned his head, studying Hugh's face. “But I'm... me.” He gestured to himself. “Why?”

Chuckling, Hugh scooted closer. “Honestly? I have no idea.” Paul rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip tugged upwards. “But we started something, that day we met.” A warm hand touched Paul's face. “I'd like to see where it goes.”

“Me too,” Paul admitted softly, rolling towards Hugh and pressing a kiss to his cheek. They curled up in each other's arms, finding peace in their embrace. Neither wanted this moment to end.

#space boos #paul stamets #hugh culber #fic #star trek discovery

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bestonamusementparkrides · 7 years ago

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A Story About The Ferris Wheel

She watched him... a solitary figure hastening toward the empty field area below, where the gaudy carnival had settled for a few weeks on the outskirts of town. Seldom had she seen him walk with such energy, and with such direct purpose.

Her chatty neighbor had been right, although her whispered words had been uttered more as a friendly taunt, a murmur from Iago to the unsuspecting Othello. A hint... a terrible possibility... that her own lover, her true friend... was seeing someone he had known intimately, long before meeting her. The eager gossip who had offered this damning tidbit called the girl "Debbie". Yes, she remembered... in conversation recently with him, the name had been very innocently mentioned; he had "bumped into her at the grocery store... how plump she had become... yes, people do change... why, it must be at least nine years since I last saw her... and then, it was nothing more than having lunch at her place, a little conversation, not much more... oh well... " and that was all he had said.

And now, here she was, actually following him... spying on him, however embarrassed she might feel as she traced the much-worn path which led through the empty lot and down the rock-strewn bank to the field below... where the brilliant lights and bawdy carnival music drifted up to her, tantalizing and cruel at the same moment.

"I have no business doing this!" she muttered to herself. Certainly he had merely decided to innocently wander the noisy maze of cables and crowds as they played at games of chance... hoping to win a brightly stuffed toy for a lady love, to show as a badge of one's resourcefulness and devotion. In all fairness, hadn't she always been fascinated by just such a scene... always the child, eager for the stimulating sounds and excitement of a carnival night? Perhaps, even now, he planned to test his skill, in order to surprise and delight her with his winnings... when he next came to visit with her.

And yet, she sensed a distraction that displaced this optimistic possibility. Above the entire kaleidoscope of vivid colors and activity there loomed the impressive form of the Ferris wheel, gigantic in its proportions... intimidating, in her perception. For she had always been frightened of the great wheel, with its brightly colored seats that swung precariously back and forth, threatening to catch you unaware and tip you out into the dark and empty sky.

As a child, her sister and friends had teased her by forcing the seat to shake and roll... to such an extent that they themselves had lost control, and had come dangerously close to actually hurtling them all into the black void of a summer night. It had been a terrifying time, and had somehow remained indelible in her memory. How angry she had been with their inane giggling... and how horribly panic-stricken, all at one.

Not ordinarily a woman to be easily frightened, as a child or even now, in her middle years... this one experience still served to remind her of an urgent need to avoid even the fascinating sight of the wheel itself... which perversely resulted in her being drawn closer to it. She was the unsuspecting moth being drawn to the impending doom of the alluring yellow glow of a bulb.

So intent was her attention on the great circle which now so overwhelmed her, as she stood at the edge of the carnival grounds... that she had momentarily forgotten about the man whom she had been following, and had lost sight of him. Yet, she knew with a certainty that he was there, and she also knew why he was there... Debbie!

Her cheeks flushed with a dry red blotch that burned to the touch. This involuntary reaction revealed the rage which was slowly smoldering within her. On the surface, she was a calm woman who seemed able to handle uncomfortable situations rather well, ordinarily. But this intense reddening always betrayed the truth; her inner reactions were still most aware when she was either being cheated or dealt with in a dishonorable manner... though she might not have said anything directly to that effect. It was her inner wisdom's silent declaration, nonetheless: "I do not like what you are doing to me. You're not fooling me. I am quite aware of your deceit!"

And even now, as she scanned the revolving scene around her, cheeks raging still... her attention was drawn to the booth where tickets were being purchased for the ride on the giant wheel. Several people had already lined up at the wooden gate, talking and laughing in their eagerness to select a colorful wooden carriage. Just as the gate was opened by a burly attendant, and the first couple chose a blue enclosure, followed by two giggling teenaged girls in a bright yellow one... she saw him!

How absurd... this man she knew so well, who was afraid of so many things. Afraid... it had been the word he had often used, when she had first met him on a country road almost five years ago, when their romance had first begun. He had been afraid of... dark clouds, wind in the pine trees, the narrow mountain paths they once had hiked, a winding steep road that descended from 6500 feet to the sea level of the desert below. So many things had frightened him, and he had avoided them all his life, until meeting her. And... because she was daring and loved to explore, she had gently coaxed him to but taste of these small adventures, to realize that there was little or no danger, under ordinary circumstances. With each achievement, it seemed that he was pleased with himself, and would say to her, "Aren't you proud of me!" Eventually, he'd begun to congratulate himself for having accomplished so many new and untried ventures... never considering the fact that it was her insistent and patient encouragement that had given him the confidence to experience these once-dreaded deeds.

But she had been proud of him, and had also enjoyed his companionship. Until she had met him, these excursions had always been of a solitary nature and... though she was content enough in her own company... it was much nicer to share the experience with someone you cared for. Someone you thought had cared for you... And yet, from the very start... she had always felt guilty for the nagging thought which occasionally surfaced in her mind: His attention is not genuine! You are one of many in a line of women whom he has "loved" and given his considerate attention to. Oh yes, perhaps he has been with you longer than the others... but then, perhaps you had been more patient and attentive to his needs than others were... before they too had recognized his questionable and acquisitive motives, and had thus thought it wise to sever their attachment to him.

How many times had you, also, declared your suspicions, and insisted that he never see you again? Each time, he had softened, and exerted an even greater tenderness, with flowers and intimate declarations which overshadowed any "foolish suspicions" on your part.

Yes, well... she wouldn't have been the first woman in the history of man's world, to such succumb to the loving attentions of a... young and devoted companion.

There he was! Bold as could be about to settle into a red seat, swinging languidly as the wheel rotated slowly, bit by bit, to enclose each eager patron within its alluring embrace. Smiling, energetic, more gay than he had ever seemed before... his seat companion was a large pink teddy bear, obviously won, or given to him... by an admirer who worked now at the carnival! Hadn't he also once mentioned that Debbie had worked small jobs as a night cashier, when he had been seeing her and would pick her up after she had finished work? And might she not be here now, selling tickets or managing one of the many tantalizing games of chance?

Of course! Debbie had given the teddy bear to him! That's funny. Only a day or so ago, he had also mentioned speaking on the phone with a "couple" he had given a dog to... and the woman had called the dog "Teddy Bear".

Several times over the past years, he had chosen dogs from the pound, dogs with "potential"; after having trained them as pups, he was no longer interested in keeping them as adult dogs. Sometimes he had earned a few dollars, by advertising them to "good homes"... or had just given them away.

He had been reticent, initially, to speak of his life before having met her, and had... in fact... kept his personal life quite a secret from her. But, as he gained confidence in her, and trusted her loyalty and devotion, he had offered small bits and pieces of his life and thoughts, until she had fashioned a better understanding of him as an individual.

"H'mm... Teddy Bear... ". It had seemed an unlikely thing, that this married woman should call him on the phone, nine years later, to say that she and her husband were moving to another ranch in a neighboring town, and that they still had the dog he had given to them. Their beloved "Teddy Bear"... in case he wanted to visit, and see the dog. He had seemed very pleased that the woman had called, and confident that the relating of this incident would not even mean anything to his current sweetheart, as she had listened to the ridiculous tale of the telephone call, just a few days ago.

Too many coincidental points, not to notice. And here he was... at the carnival, hugging the teddy bear like an innocent child, anticipating the ride on the giant Ferris wheel, as though he had never been afraid of anything, ever before. If she had even suggested that the two of them might attend the carnival, and share such a fearsome ride, he would have laughed and said "Oh no, that's not for me... you go on, if you want to."

But she had related to him, during one of their many conversations about their respective childhood fears and experiences... the frightening incident with her sister on the Ferris wheel. He remembered everything... when he wanted to. His mental file was filled with such items of memorabilia. He knew of her singular fear of riding on a Ferris wheel... which, even now, paralyzed her with dread and intense misgiving.

For she was even now being subtly drawn into the line, as she watched his handsome features glowing with excitement and animation. The attendant waited passively, as she was swept along beside a father and little girl, to share a black and silver bench; but she had no ticket!

It didn't seem to matter. Perhaps the attendant assumed that she was the mother of the little girl. Had the man given a ticket for her?

While these thoughts raced darkly through her confusion, the guard rail was dropped across her lap, and she felt the wheel beginning to move again, as the ground disappeared from below her feet, and slowly... inexorably... begin to rise out and above the crowded scene below. So far! So high!

Her face tightened with fear. What was she doing there?! How had she been so lured... to voluntarily place herself in such a terrifying position?

And why was that little girl squirming around so much! Wasn't her father aware of the jiggling the child's movements were creating? Between them, the girl fidgeted and wiggled, chuckling to herself all the while. A pretty little blonde girl, nonetheless... in fact, a beautiful child. Her father ignored it all, completely oblivious to the terror glowing in the reddening cheeks of the woman whose gray knuckles clung tightly to the safety rail before her, the only thing which protected her.

From what?! Why should she need protection? Silly woman! And her hands relaxed their steely grasp. Perhaps if she put an arm gently across the child's shoulders, the little girl would quiet down and cease that insufferable squirming. Perhaps the child was understandably aroused by this... her first ride on the giant ferris wheel more ferris wheels can be found from http://bestonamusementparkrides.com/ferris-wheels-for-sale/.

About seven or eight, the youngster seemed completely unafraid... much apart from her own obvious and foolish fear. Now the wriggling child turned, and grinned up at her... such a disarming and lovely countenance, and that smile... those deep dark eyes set within the frame of lightly fluffing honey colored hair... such a stunning contrast! Those sparkling eyes, looking up at her with such amusement, so familiar somehow, so much like... And suddenly, the child began to pull at the hands which once again grasped the safety rail across their laps. What is she doing?! "Stop that!!" she wanted to scream, looking in desperate exasperation at the father, who only turned his head and smiled absently, then resumed his gaze out over the carnival grounds.

At the same moment, she was aware that the continuous revolutions of the wheel had stopped... and they were left hanging, gently swaying, in the top position high above everyone else. She could still hear the music, more faintly now, from far below. The carnival had disappeared from her view, so intent had she been with her inner dread, and the undisciplined gyrations of the little girl.

Was she trying to hold my hands in hers, for companionship, or was she... actually trying to prevent me from holding on?!

For now, the child twisted to and fro, back and forth on the bench, knocking heavily into her own body crouching tightly in the corner of the seat... the father completely disinterested in the child's efforts. The bench, in turn, began to sway as furiously as her body motions, and she could not regain her grasp on the rail. Wasn't anyone aware of what was happening? Is my fear so foolishly exaggerated... that I actually believed this innocent child is intent on my total discomfort? Has my perception of everyone become so twisted out of proportion... that I dreamed up a scenario of suspicion about my own loved one, and actually am mad enough to suspect a mere child of trying to harm me? Why didn't I just stay home tonight, instead of feeling restless and walking through town... until being surprised at sight of him, the one I so unwisely followed? Why?!?

As her thoughts banged confusedly against each other, in those tangled and terrifying moments, the child abruptly stopped... and lunged against her own leaning body... grinning... as she herself uttered a terrible cry of surprise... and tumbled from her seat into the depths of the night.

"Why, Teddy Bear darling... are you all right?" As the crowd gathered around the twisted figure of the woman sprawled like a broken old doll across the cables... a pretty blonde mother hugged a smiling child to her soft bosom, and comforted her; for this had been an experience most children would have been devastated by.

Standing nearby, among the many spectators... a handsome dark-eyed young man stood smiling at the blonde mother and child... as their eyes met in familiar, and tender, recognition.

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