#I’m so mad my laptop is broken I want to open the scene up in photoshop and stare at it all weekend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pradaksj · 4 years ago

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Safety Net || part two (final). (m.)

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together.

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader

❧ genre⟶ enemies to friends, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, pining, smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series.

❧ word count ⟶ 16,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ descriptions of an anxiety/panic attack, character death (non-major), smut which includes ... passionate to rough sex, oral (female receiving), penetration, fingering, unprotected sex (please have sex responsibly lol).

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n ⟶ I am still fairly new to writing smut so sorry if it doesn’t meet your expectations 😭 also to all my people who don’t like smut “*” signals where you can stop reading as the smut is really just a bonus scene at the end. and remember dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple = present

01 | 02 (final)

“God were we dramatic,” you laugh, glad that the recollection of your big fight with Jungkook was something that could by now be laughed at rather than seen as something you’d dearly regret, “Don’t you think?” you ask Jungkook, concern immediately washing over you once you see the sad look on his face, “Jungkook?”

Jungkook stares blankly at the lake in front of him, surprised at the resurgence of the same heavy feeling in chest he had felt several months before, “Did I—Did I say something wrong?” you worry that you’ve hurt his feelings, that being one of, if not the, last thing you wanted to do tonight.

Quietly he nods his head no, “I just—” he struggles to voice his thoughts, “I was—” he shakes his head and you grab his hand in comfort, giving him a small smile.

“Hey,” you giggle, “what happened is in the past,” you reassure.

“I know but—” he sighs, pushing his hair back with his other hand, “I just still feel bad, you know? I mean we went a whole month without talking…. practically hating one another…”

August 2019.

It had been about a month since your explosive argument with Jungkook, and despite living together... the two of you had never been so far apart. Not only were you not on speaking terms, but it was as if neither of you existed in each other's proper world, completely avoiding each other at all costs.

One would think that because you two lived with one another, you’d be bound to have some kind of awkward bump ins from time to time, but somehow the two of you managed to steer clear of each other. From eating breakfast and dinner at separate times, to talking to Hobi at your own respective times, and of course the first thing Jungkook did the next day after your fight was move his things out of your restroom and into Hobi’s. You weren’t going to lie, it did sting just a little , but you were quick to get over it. The part that made Hobi roll his eyes even further back than they already did, was how quickly you two scrambled around each other whenever you did happen to coincidentally be in the same place such as the kitchen.

Originally Hobi tried any and every method possible to get you two to make up, knocking on doors and trying to trick you two into talking, faking handwriting, stealing personal belongings, and of course begging. Hell, he even tried confronting you two in one of the rare times you guys were in the kitchen at the same time, but all you two did was remain silent and go back into your respective rooms. Not bothering to even spare a glance at one another.

He had given up about two weeks in of trying, deciding that it was up to you two to figure out how you guys would make up. But it wasn’t until this Friday morning when he saw a certain letter stick out of the mail that he found himself loudly sighing.

“Oh Jungkook…” he whispers to himself, shaking his head as he read the letter in front of him. What was he going to do now?

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to get used to being the lone wolf in the apartment again, in fact it was easy for him to completely ignore your existence. It was easy to watch you struggle opening a jar full of kimchi. It was easy to catch a glimpse of you and Hobi watching One Piece on the couch whenever he was making his way out of the apartment to go and party. It was easy to hear you sing along to some new girl group song and not join along whenever he passed by your room. And it was very easy to hate you. Very easy indeed.

Gosh, who was he kidding? It was the hardest freaking thing in the world to do. Especially because he didn’t hate you at all. Pretending to? Yes. Actually? Fuck no.

If he was being honest, any hatred he had felt in the moment of the big argument had been rapidly washed away the moment he slammed his door shut. Instead it had been quickly replaced by the feeling of hurt and sadness. He even found himself sneaking into the kitchen that night to grab an extra pint of ice cream from the freezer and watch some stupid K-drama from his laptop back in his room. Even shedding a small tear when the male and female lead had to break up due to unforeseen circumstances. But of course if you asked him if it was true, he’d deny it in a heartbeat.

He’d often find himself zoning out and replaying the fight in his head. God, was he an idiot. What was he thinking destroying your painting like that? Did he really think you weren’t going to react the way you did? Sadly, the answer was a mixture of both yes and no. Yes, he wanted you to feel as hurt as he did, but he didn’t expect you to go fully ballistic on him. Did he blame you for it? No, of course not. You had every right to be mad at him as he had acted out in completely blind rage. Not bothering to stop for one moment and ask himself, am I okay with the possible outcome of what I’m about to do? Had he known it was going to be this, and well … he would’ve never done it.

It just happened so quick. One moment he was staring at the floor covered with broken pieces of glass and the next he had his fist going through the canvas of your painting, destroying the very thing he convinced you to work on. No wonder you hated him…

You hated him and you had every right to. He just wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to take it anymore. Having to only catch glimpses of you from time to time and not being able to say anything because he was too ashamed to even look at you was truly killing him. And he could only imagine how you felt having to see him every day and night. Knowing the person you hated most was living under the same roof as you. Hell, if the roles were reversed he probably wouldn’t want you around at all.

Which is why as Jungkook currently stares aimlessly at the ceiling of his room, he knows he’s made the right decision.

The night of the fight between you and Jungkook, you had felt a range of emotions that honestly were quite overwhelming. Whenever you’d stare off into space you’d find yourself feeling very sad and reflective, but whenever you even caught a glimpse of your then destroyed painting on the floor you’d feel the rush of anger return all at once. It was like that the whole night, not even an episode of One Piece could cheer you up. If anything it made you feel even more confused because you were on the episode where (spoiler alert) *** dies, and well not only were you mad at how it happened, but sad because it was happening. Hell, that was probably the best way to describe how you felt about the whole argument.

The first couple of days had been hard to say the least, the dynamic between all three of you drastically changing in the matter of a couple days. No longer were there grocery shopping trips together, nor were there laundry days where you and Jungkook would compete to see who could fold the fastest, and of course there were no longer Netflix movie nights where Hobi would complain because you and Jungkook kept cracking too many jokes during the most intense scenes. Your laughs always echoing across the living room walls thus ruining the buildup of the scene.

You were good at pretending you didn’t care, in fact you were great at it. Maybe because a part of you actually didn’t care. You had long been fed up with Jungkook’s moody antics, and him destroying that painting was the final straw. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have gone into his room after he specifically told you not to, but you only did because you were worried about him and actually cared about him. Couldn’t he have seen that before he went full on rampage mode and destroyed your painting? He was wrong for what he did, and at the end of the day he had no right to hate you. Right?

These days you found yourself doubting it. It wasn’t like you were in the entire right, you mean you had invaded his privacy … you shake your head, begrudgingly getting out of bed before dwelling on your thoughts for any longer. The re-do of your painting, which currently sat on its easel, serving as reminder that you weren’t planning on talking to him anytime soon.

“Good Morning to you,” Hobi greets, watching you stomp your way into the kitchen, clearly running on an empty stomach. Jungkook was currently out, either working out or …. Hobi sighs recalling what he saw in the letter this morning.

“Good morning,” you mumble, the grouchy mood that Hobi found himself a little too used to making its morning return. In all the years he’s known you, to see you always this …. down …. was very unlike of you to say the least.

Whether you liked it or not, your fight with Jungkook had definitely changed some aspects of your personality, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself yet. Because no matter how good you were good at faking it, and trust him you were good (a professional indeed), behind that tough wall you had put up in the last month was a person who was hurt. A person who had their heart crushed right in front of them.

Grabbing two slices of bread, you place them in the toaster, preparing to make yourself some avocado toast. You sigh when you hear Hobi’s footsteps getting closer, not wanting to hear the whole “You need to talk to Jungkook” speech this early on a Saturday morning.

Turning around to face him, you’re prepared to protest against his usual lecture, “Hobi I don’t—” the sound of an envelope hitting the counter catching you off guard, stopping you from continuing any further. Furrowing your brows, your eyes glint with confusion. Hobi stares at you with a stoic expression, waiting for you to grab the letter from the island’s counter.

Slowly you grab the white envelope, extremely confused as to what this had to do with. The name on the recipient line reads, “Jeon Jungkook” and for a small second you feel your heart stop, but you’re quick to shake it off.

“This isn’t mine, if you can’t tell,” you scoff, preparing to hand the envelope back to Hobi.

Pushing your hand away, he says, “Read it,” his tone telling you that it wasn’t exactly an option.

Rolling your eyes, you pull out the single piece of paper that’s inside, unfolding the tri-folded letter. Your eyes quickly gaze over the subject line which reads, “Application Approval,” catching your attention. From there you continue to read…

Dear Jeon Jungkook,

We are pleased to notify you that we have received and accepted your application for the lease property of **** Jangsin-Ro, Apartment 32. Your lease will begin on September 28, 2019 and your rent amount is ₩**** for every 1st of the month. Any cancellations will result in a ₩*** fee. I want to thank you for your application and anticipate that you will have an enjoyable living experience in your new home.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.

Sincerely,

Bang Si-Hyuk.

Wait what? Your eyes reread the letter that’s in front of you because clearly you were reading something wrong. Your eyes must’ve been deceiving you because there was just no way…. Looking up at Hobi, you hope this was another of his attempts to get you to talk to Jungkook, but there he stood, straight faced as ever.

“He’s—” your voice whimpers like a little kid, “He’s moving out?”

“Ow!” Jungkook squirms, the feeling of your fingers pinching his arm hurting him, “What was that for?!” he yelps.

“For trying to move out without telling us! And don’t you dare ever pull something like that again,” you scold him, tempted to pinch him again.

Garnering a laugh out of him, you cross your arms like a kid and huff a loud breath of air, “Ah I won’t, I won’t,” he giggles, “Maybe…” he mumbles, but he’s quick to raise his arms in defense once he sees you ready to pinch him once again, “I’m just kidding,” he sings and you roll your eyes.

“Serves you right,” you mutter, letting out the hurt you felt that day to him because honestly, you had never gotten the opportunity to do so…

September 2019.

“Jungkook is moving out. Jungkook is moving out. Jungkook is moving out,” you think to yourself, having to come to terms with the fact that in exactly 48 hours from now Jungkook was officially going to be out of your life … for good.

You were shocked to say the least, when you saw the application letter, not exactly sure about what you felt. You mean, yeah you were definitely mad at Jungkook, but enough to the point where you wanted him officially out of your life? Hell no.

So then where the hell did he even get the idea to move out? It wasn’t like you two were being mean to each other, nor was there blatant hatred being shown on your part. All you two were doing were ignoring each other like two little kids. That should not be cause for someone to move out. Not at all!

A knock on the door catches your attention, “You ready?” Hobi asks, dressed in business like attire. His all black suit made him seem almost intimidating, that was until your eyes landed on his newly dyed cherry-red hair only causing you to stifle a small laugh.

Nodding your head, you look at yourself in the mirror one last time. Tonight was the night of the art exhibition, and you were very very nervous. You had turned in your piece a couple of days prior, but to have to later unveil it in front of everyone along with giving a small speech was nerve wracking. Especially considering you hadn’t involved yourself in the world of the arts for several years now, if anything you were used to constantly talking about accounting numbers and different business statistics.

“It’s either now or never,” you whisper to yourself, not knowing what awaited you.

“I just don’t get it Hobi,” you rant in the car, on your way to the galleria’s location, “he didn’t see me trying to move out when he was being nothing but a complete dick to me those first couple of months!” you pout, still not having accepted that Jungkook was moving out, despite constantly reminding yourself that he was.

Hobi sighs, feeling as if he’s heard you rant about this since you’ve found out … oh wait … you have! “Y/N—” he begins.

“No listen to me Hobi!” you interrupt, “Can he really not stand the sight of me that he feels the need to move out?? Was me going into his room really that big of an issue,” your voice wavers a bit, but you continue nonetheless, “And the fact that he hasn’t even bothered to tell you! So what? He was just planning on disappearing this coming Monday! Thinking no questions were going to be raised? I mean imagine you hadn’t seen that letter, he would’ve left thinking I hate him!” And to that Hobi lets out a scoff.

“What do you mean?” he scrunches his face, “He still is!” Hobi raises his finger before you could talk, “My turn,” he firmly states, only causing you to drop your defensive shoulders and roll your eyes.

“You two have not talked at all since your stupid little argument where clearly both of you were in the wrong!” he rants, repeating what he’s been saying for the last two months, the topic becoming tiresome, “And now one of you is leaving because neither of you can get over yourselves and just initiate some kind of freaking conversation! Just one conversation and I am one hundred percent sure everything will get cleared up and we can all go back to our daily lives, but nooooo both of you think we’re in some freaking K-drama, actually no, even K-dramas make up faster than the two of you!” he ends his rant on an insult, and you’re left there momentarily speechless.

“You are so—”

“I’m what?” Hobi glares at you, and you only narrow your eyes at him in return.

“You are so wrong,” you state, refusing to now look at him, instead looking out the window.

“I’m right and you know it,” you mumble something under your breath in response, “You invaded his privacy after he repeatedly told you not to, but for some reason you just felt the impulsive need to go into his room and find out what he was hiding. You know, I’m sorry Y/N but if Jungkook’s the biggest dickhead in existence then you my friend are the pushiest one,” he complains, finding his grip on the steering wheel becoming tighter. God, did the two of you get his blood pressure boiling up.

“You don’t get it, I had to go into his room,” you mutter, not exactly happy with the fact that Hobi is reading you for filth.

“No you didn't,” the two of you begin to go back and forth, voice raising with every sentence.

“Yes, I did.”

“No you did not.”

“Um yes—”

“Um n—”

“Yes, how else was I going to be able to find out what was hurting him?” you interrupt, turning to face Hobi, feeling the migraine in your head about to pop.

“And why would you need to know that?”

“Because I lo—” you quickly catch yourself before you could complete the sentence, crossing your arms and pouting. Like hell you’d confess in front of Hobi.

Hobi looks at you knowingly, “Because you what,” he taunts, knowing exactly what you were going to say,

“Just drive,” you mumble, your attention back to the window beside you, focusing on the view of the city streets.

“Ah Y/N, there you are!” Jimin greets you and Hobi, having barely walked in from your argumentative car ride, “You’re on in like ten minutes,” he nervously chuckles, worrying only minutes ago that you were going to be a no-show.

“That quick?” you ask in complete shock, barely having taken off your dress-coat. The churns in your stomach begin to make you feel physically sick and there’s now a certain dryness to your throat that you could only accredit to the tension you were now feeling. Your palms were even beginning to get a little sweaty. Why were you doing this again? Oh yeah … Jungkook.

“Come on let’s go and get you set up,” Jimin tugs at your hand, pulling you to follow him. With your other hand, you attempt to look for your flash cards, wanting to remind yourself of the specific points you needed to cover.

“What the—” your heart drops, unable to feel the flimsy piece of paper anywhere near the coat that hung against your arm, “Oh no,” you murmur to yourself, not wanting to panic Jimin, “No, no, no,” you repeat to yourself.

“Okay here we are,” he stops you two in front of your draped-covered painting, pulling out a lapel mic from his pocket, clipping it onto the collar of your outfit. Now that you weren’t moving, you were now barely taking note of just how many people filled the galleria, and it was a lot. There had to be at least 200 people, minimum. Each and every one of them slowly looking around at the already unveiled art pieces, their eyes doing the judging for them.

“Jimin I don’t know—”

“Hey, you’re gonna do just fine, it’s just a bit of stage fright I’m sure,” he reassures, and though you appreciate the gesture, coming from him it just didn’t mean much. You see, Jimin has always been what's called an optimistic person, similar to you in a way. Always trying to find the good in the bad. But in order for his words to really have some effect, it would’ve been better if he was a pessimist, someone who always saw the negative in everything because then to hear that you would do just fine would come more as a shock rather than as something expected, someone like—

You shake your head,“I’m just,” your outfit suddenly begins to feel as if it's squeezing the life out of you, “I’m really nervous,” you whisper to him out of breath, watching as people begin to crowd around your area. Were the walls closing in or was it just you?

He begins to test the mic, “Jimin—” you repeat his name, a cry for help, “I can’t—” but it’s too late.

“Hello everyone,” he speaks into his own microphone, and you scan the audience to see if you can spot Hobi. When you do, you notice the look of panic he has on his own face, probably aware of your distressed state, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it, “This artist I’m introducing to you, has been a personal friend of mine for years. I’ve known her since my first year in college, and I can vouch for just how talented she is,” Jimin glances at you, unaware of just how truly panicked you were, “So without further ado, y/n take it away,” he steps away, leaving you under the sole spotlight.

Remaining silent for a moment, you stare at the several pairs of eyes that had their gaze solely focused on you. “H-Hello,” you stutter into the mic, glad that it wasn’t a handheld one as you were sure that you would’ve been a jittering mess, “Um my name is y/n l/n,” you nervously smile, trying to find something to focus your attention on. Originally you planned on staring at Hobi the whole time, only to find out it made you even more of a stuttering mess. God, was it getting hot in here.

“So um I think we should um reveal the painting first,” you sputter out, signalling to Jimin that it was time. Slowly he removes the drape, the sound of clapping providing you a bit of a soothing effect. People liked it. People freaking liked it. It felt as if a brick or two had been dropped from your shoulders.

You gulp continuing with your speech, “So I um—” breathe y/n, “I call this piece safety net,” you turn sideways towards the painting, ready to explain, “I call it that because as y-you can see in the painting,” you mindlessly point to it as if the audience couldn’t see it themselves, “There’s the um the figure falling into what I call a safety net of flowers and—” you stare at the painting along with them, finding yourself getting lost in your own work, “well I painted this after—” you pause, the room completely silent, “after finding myself wanting to be someone’s safety net,” you mumble to yourself, a certain person coming to mind.

There’s an awkwardness to the room, the kind of stiffness you only find in tense moments. You weren’t sure if it was because the audience was trying to be respectful or you were just making a complete mess out of yourself, but either way Jimin awkwardly coughs, “So um we will now take questions from the audience,” Jimin hesitantly says, by now noticing the extremely panicked state you were in, but unsure of what to do.

A woman raises her hand, a volunteer for the galleria handing her a mic, “Hello,” she politely greets, giving you a warm smile, “So I was curious as to why you chose two colors that don’t conventionally go well together, I was wondering if you did that on purpose or…” and though you know her question means no harm, the voice in your head was convincing you that this was some kind of an attack.

“I um—” your breathing becomes heavier, “I—” Just speak, you keep telling yourself. Tell her that you chose two colors because they represented two different personalities. Say something you freaking idiot. “I um c-chose—” you begin to hear the sound of people murmuring all around you, their voices echoing loudly through your head. What were they saying? Did they hate your painting? Did they think it made absolutely no sense? Was it really that bad? What were you thinking when agreeing to do all this? How could you have been convinced to do this? You didn’t paint anymore for this exact reason.

With every thought that races through your mind, the sudden sense of impending doom only becomes stronger and your rapid breathing becomes louder. You had to be sweating because God did it feel like a fucking sauna in here. The tightness in your throat wasn’t helping at all as well only making the feeling of nausea further overwhelming. You needed to get out of here. Now.

And so without thinking… you run.

You yank out the mic and begin to run to God knows where, ignoring the shouts of your name along with the small number of gasps that could be heard.You needed to breathe again, and you desperately needed this feeling of danger to be gone.

Trying not to bump into too many people walking the dark city streets of Seoul, focusing on the sound of your heels clicking against the pavement, tuning out everything around you. “Just run,” you tell yourself, “Run until no one can find you.”

Soon the sound of your heels clacking against the pavement becoming the sound of your heels crunching against leaves. The pitch blackness of your surroundings causes tears to begin to well up, the trembling of your fingers along with the chills running down your spine making you feel as if you were running in an endless loop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

You come to sudden halt, pushing your arm against a nearby tree, desperately trying to catch your breath. You were alone now, isn’t this what you wanted? So then why did you still feel as if the world was crashing down on you. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why were hot tears spilling from your eyes? What the hell was wrong with you?

By now your sobs are in full force, your heaving chest only adding to its force. Because of your crying, you fail to hear a voice, “There you are!” Jungkook catches his breath, surprised at how fast you could run in heels. For a small second he thought he had lost you in the chase, with the way you maneuvered around everyone, he was thankful he hadn’t.

“Y/N,” he calls out, expecting you to turn, but he’s met with silence. You were having a panic attack, a bad one at that. Making his way closer to you, he’s careful in how he approaches you, grabbing your hand before you could run any further, “Y/N,” he repeats, this time turning you to face him, but you continue to cry in hysteria, your vision blurred by just how fast tears were falling from your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me y/n,” he cups your face with his hands, a worrisome but firm look on his face, “I need you to breathe with me, okay?” your chest continues to heave, the rapid breaths of air coming from your mouth at an alarming rate, “Y/N!” he shouts, causing you to go silent, “Y/N…” he softly repeats, knowing he’s gotten your attention. You stare at him in silence, “One,” he inhales a big breath of air, “Two,” he exhales out, “Inhale,” he repeats his actions again, “Exhale,” he breathes out.

Slowly you begin to follow. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

In no time, your heartbeat begins to slow down, your mind focused enough on the task at hand that you begin to forget why you were ever panicked to begin with. “Hey,” Jungkook whispers, caressing your cheek with his hand, “You’re doing great,” he reassures you, providing you the words of comfort you so desperately needed to hear right now.

It had been so long since you’d gone through having a panic attack, almost forgetting just how bad they could sometimes get. But for now staring into Jungkook’s eyes and practicing some breathing exercises was enough to remember that no matter how bad they got, you’d get through them.

His fingers gently graze your cheeks, continuing to mumble small phrases of reassurance while you were getting control of yourself. “Has anyone ever told you,” you place a finger to the corner of his eye, quietly breathing your words out, “you have very round eyes,” you say and Jungkook lets a huffed laugh out in response.

He scrunches his nose and smiles, “Yeah, a lot of people have actually,” he laughs, a toothy grin spreading across his face while he uncups your cheeks, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over him as he knew you were going to be just fine, “I’ve been told they look like a doe’s eyes,” you quietly nod your head yes, agreeing with his statement, a warm smile on your face.

“Come on,” he intertwines your fingers, gently pulling you to follow him and leading you to a park bench that was near. But the thing was, it wasn’t just any park bench, it was the park bench from the night Jungkook was drunk and the two of you had gotten into the fight with that drunk man. What were the odds? You hadn’t even noticed that you ran this far till now...

He exhales a large breath of air once you two sit, allowing a neither comfortable nor awkward silence fill the air. Despite the heartwarming moment that happened only minutes ago, there were still things that needed to be talked about. Things that simply couldn’t be forgotten. It was the sole reason he had gone to the art exhibition because he wanted, no, he needed to talk to you.

He just hadn’t expected to see you running out in complete panic right as he walked in. The tears that were slowly rolling down from your eyes, causing him to feel a sudden sense of heartbreak. For the only reason you’d ever cry would be if your hard work were to be destroyed, whether physically or emotionally. It was the same despaired look you had given him that fateful day he decided to throw everything good that was becoming of his life out the window.

And so to see the scene in front of him play out had definitely caused both a mix of anger and sadness to boil within him. His urge to defend and protect you, almost overcoming his need to go out and make sure you were okay. That was until he found himself running out the door, signalling to Hobi that he’d handle it.

And so now here the two of you were, quietly sitting on a park bench with your hands being the only things physically touching, a comfort of its own for the both of you. It didn’t feel weird nor did it feel wrong because if anything it just felt right.

A part of you thinks and hopes it could remain like this forever, scared that if it didn't, you’d have to return back to the world where you and Jungkook were nothing more than strangers who were once friends. The world where acting as if one or the other didn’t exist was completely normal. The one where you’d find your heart selfishly longing for him despite stubbornly not wanting to. And so whether it be for a small second, a minute, or an hour, for now at least you just wanted to savor the moment because who knew what would possibly happen if he decided to leave and never come back.

“Y/N…” he begins.

“Shh,” you whisper, your puffy eyes softly gazing at the view of the trees in front of you, the silhouettes of trees as well sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches, a view you were once so scared of, not so scary anymore, “Just one more second,” you close your eyes, taking in one final breath of air. Jungkook feels his heart swell at the sight, remembering the scene from only months ago where it had been you doing all the staring. You pull his hand when you’re ready, your soft gaze now directed towards him.

“I just—” he begins to stutter, “I wanted to—” he feels his eyes get watery, the rush of emotion he was beginning to feel almost overwhelming him, “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” his voice slightly cracks, “for everything,” he whispers, allowing a tear to fall from his eye, feeling the weight he had been holding onto his shoulders now falling. The small leaks of vulnerability that you had occasionally seen now completely flooding through his walls of defense, that single tear becoming several, until soon you hear a sob emit from his mouth, but by then you have him wrapped in a hug, the sound of his sobs being muffled by your shoulder. Slowly you caress his hair, gently stroking and twirling the locks of his wavy hair in between your fingers, deciding that this time around silence was the best way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he hysterically cries, holding onto you tighter, as if you’d go anywhere. He begins to shake his head, struggling to find the words that’d best describe how he felt at this current moment, “I’m—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” it’s your turn to say the words, gently pushing him off you so he could meet your gaze, “I know,” you reassure, “and I forgive you. The same way I’m sure you’ve forgiven me for snooping around your room like that,” you jokingly assume, and he smiles despite having red bloodshot eyes, “We were angry, and we said and did things that we shouldn't had but that doesn’t mean we have to hold them over our own heads for the rest of our lives,” you grip his hand tighter, “you made a mistake, and I made one as well. And rather than explode on one another and ignore each other, we should’ve talked about where we went wrong, and yeah,” you repeat your words from months ago, “maybe we didn’t get to do this as early as we hoped, in fact we’re quite late,” you giggle, “but we’re here nonetheless. And so let’s talk,” you say, ready to listen to the boy you had fallen in love with.

Jungkook stares at you in silence, a million thoughts racing through his mind, wondering how you always knew exactly what to say at the exact moment, “I,” he hesitates before continuing, “I need to start from the beginning,” he says, wiping any residue from the tears in his eyes, ready to open up the book he had kept closed for so long.

You nod to him, signalling that you were listening, “When I was a kid, I um,” he gulps, “I guess you could say I had a knack for boxing. Originally, my dad had taught me as a way to protect myself if I ever came across a situation that’d require me to defend myself,” his fingers begin to fidget within yours, a sign that he was nervous. Quick to soothe him, you rub small circles on the palms of his hands, his gaze occasionally avoiding eye contact.

“But I also think it was because my dad, who once wanted to be a boxer himself, saw me a way to vicariously live out his dream. Because soon he noticed that the knack I had for it was more of a talent,” a small smile appears on his lips, “and well by then he had begun to seriously train me… I remember always coming back after school and dulging right into practice, waking up on weekends and running laps at the park with my dad in order to gain stamina, and just,” he exhales a breath, “and just thinking to myself how proud I wanted to make him,” uncontrollably a tear falls from his face once again, and he tries to gain his composure before continuing, not wanting to begin the sob fest too early, “Once he thought I was ready, my dad had begun to sign me up for amatuer competitions, and well I did amazing,” Jungkook laughs.

“And soon boxing would become the sport I’d find myself building my life upon, but one day—“ he sighs, knowing the conclusion to his own story and well this was only the beginning, “one day during high school we had this um career day I guess you could call it, and well long story short after going around and listening to how passionate some of spokespersons were of their careers, I remember thinking, is boxing something I was doing for myself or for my father?”

A sad smile appears on his face, “I think the most confusing part for me was that I wasn't exactly passionate about anything else but I also just knew deep down in my heart that boxing wasn’t for me, you know? To this day I don’t know what exactly it is I'm passionate for,” he laughs, “and I certainly don’t see myself making coffee and flipping pancakes for the rest of my life,” he jokes around, an attempt the make the atmosphere a little lighter, “but I think with the help of someone I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay to be a bit of a late bloomer,” he winks at you, “one day I’ll wake up and just know…”

You give him a small reassuring smile, happy to know that he’s learned his own lessons along the way, even if it required a bit of pushing.

”But back to my story,” he awkwardly laughs, the small feign of happiness gone, “Though I had realized it already… maybe it was because I was scared, or maybe it was just—” he shakes his head, unable to find the words, “I just,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t tell my dad because for me telling my dad would feel as if I was telling him that all the years of hard work were going down the drain. That the endless nights of working out and exhausting ourselves to sleep were all for nothing. And so when my dad told me that managed to get me a spot at some training camp in the states, I took it. I mean it wasn’t like I had anything going for me here in Korea, and well I needed to guarantee my own future,” he shifts uncomfortably, remembering everything a little too vividly.

“I did pretty well for a couple years, slowly began climbing the ranks, and the natural talent I had for the sport was beginning to really shape itself, even catching the attention of prominent sport reporters. Long story short, I’d find myself surrounded with nothing but yes men and leeches who wanted nothing more than a piece of my so called success,” he gazes off to the distance, ashamed of the ego that had been built as a result of such people, “and well when you get told that you’re the best, that no one can stop you, that you’re untouchable, you truly begin to believe it,” he lets out a chuckle, “so when Brandon Star, a man who was nearly out of my weight class, began to provoke me for a fight on television after winning some match and I kept hearing from my so called friends that it’d be an easy match or that it was a guaranteed win, how could I say no? Of course at the time I didn’t know that they would be betting against me… so I said yes.”

A momentary silence fills the air as Jungkook had never told this whole story to anyone, the revealing of everything somewhat freeing for him, “A part of me knew I was way in over my head, it was like a gut feeling, you know? But I needed someone, anyone, to tell me the truth and to confirm what I was thinking. I needed someone who was going to criticize me instead of nodding their head yes and pretending that everything was going to be just fine. I think that’s why when I first met you, you reminded me so much of the people who were around me in the states, faking a smile in order to spare my feelings.” Sadness clouds his features, ashamed of how he took everything out on you when all you were doing was simply being the person you always were... kind. For that, he was truly sorry.

“Anyways,” he continues, “that night of the fight, the feeling I had in my stomach was overwhelming. I told my dad, who was helping prep me backstage like he always did, that I felt nervous. That I was scared,” his voice cracks and he closes his eyes, remembering the scene as if it was yesterday, “and my dad well...he’s always struggled with separating being a father and being a trainer,” Jungkook tries to contain the sob that’s begging to come out, “but at that moment I just needed my dad. I needed him to tell me that win or lose everything was going to be fine. That he’d be proud of me no matter what,” he finally cries, and as you’re about to pull him into another hug, he vigorously shakes his head, stopping you from doing so.

“No, I need to finish thi—”

“Jungkook,” you softly interrupt because it wasn’t that you didn’t want to hear anymore, you just weren’t sure if you could hear anymore without at some point sobbing yourself, “you don’t need to, especially if you’re not ready,” you stare at him with a sad look on your face.

“No, you deserve to know,” he firmly states, “you deserve to know,” he quietly repeats to himself. You nod your head in understanding, waiting for him to continue as he wipes away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, composing himself.

“He told me that I’d do just fine, that the son he’s trained so long for wouldn’t fail him now,” he mumbles, the words of his father still echoing in his mind, “When you go and box, you’re supposed to enter that ring with no concerns of the real world, you’re supposed to put any negative or anxious thoughts you had outside the ring to rest. Because the moment you let just one of those thoughts seep through, you might as well hang up your gloves right then and there,” his expression hardens, “I went into that ring knowing I was going to lose…”

“From there I don’t remember too much,” he bitterly lets out a laugh, “I just remember being on a gurney and feeling the heaviness of Star’s punches beginning to weigh down on my chest, clearly having done some damage to my ribs,” he sighs, “but the moment I remember so clearly is my parents trying to make their way to me, doing their best to push their way in an effort to see me. I don’t know if it was because I was just so mad at myself,” his voice shakes, “or because I confused the look of sadness on my dad’s face with disappointment, but at the time—“ his voice falters again, “At the time I thought how ashamed he must’ve been of me,” he fights through his tears, trudging through the story, “And so as I was being lifted into the truck, I kept yelling how this was his fault, that it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be in this position,” Jungkook lifts his head up, combing a hand through his hair.

“When I got to the hospital, I refused to let my parents see me, I was just too—“ God, did he sometimes wish he could go back in time and change everything, “I was too stubborn, too ashamed with myself to even look at them. So I ran,” he says, catching you by surprise, “I needed time alone so I ran,” he repeats, “I ran before they could find me, I just got up and ran,” there’s a haunting emptiness that lingers in his voice, one that brings chills down your spine.

“I called Hobi, and I told him that I needed to redeem a favor,” your mind flashes back to the night Hobi told you what he knew, “And I thought this is what I needed. That I’d be okay with starting anew, and that if I could firmly plant my feet in Seoul then I could visit my parents in Busan, and tell them how sorry I was without them having to worry too much about what the future would hold for me… and explain to them what happened, what I felt, and why I ran. That was my plan,” his voice cracks, “I was reaching a point in my life where I felt so content, so happy. I’d wake up to see you and Hobi making breakfast while imitating some random girl group dance and think to myself how things had managed to turn out so well for me despite my failure in the states. Or when we binged on One Piece episodes that whole night while stuffing our faces in tubed ice cream and I just felt like a little kid again without a worry in the world. But then …”

Jungkook feels the heavy feeling in his chest grow, “He passed away,” and just like that Jungkook feels as if the air has come out of his lungs, the same way it did the night he found out.

You feel your heart break at his words, recognition dawning over your face as everything was beginning to make sense. “My mom had managed to find my number in order to tell me there’d been an accident, and I just couldn’t believe it at first,” he attempts to hide his grief by stifling a sob, “I didn’t want to get up from bed at first because getting up would mean facing reality, it’d mean accepting that it wasn’t some kind of twisted fucked up nightmare but that it was real. That the last sight my dad saw of me was on some gurney,” his face twists, “that the last words I ever said to him were so—“ he breaks down, sobbing once again and this time you feel your own hot salty tears fall from your eyes, wrapping in such a tight hug that you weren’t sure if it was for his or your own sake.

He cries a sound so raw that it was almost as if the wound was still freshly cut, his hand clasping tightly onto your clothing for support. Any last defensive wall he had up was washed away by his salty tears, finally facing the final waves of grief, loss, and devastation in the arms of the person he had taken everything out on. The person he didn’t deserve at all, but had stayed nonetheless. You whisper sweet comforting words to his ear, wanting more than his grief to subside so that you could see the smile you loved so much appear on his face again.

“I just wish there was something I could’ve done differently,” he shakes his head, “so that he could know just how much his son loved and appreciated him,” he lifts his head up from your shoulder, wiping his tears away, and practicing his breathing as his chest had been heaving so bad because of his sobs, “And so that was why I completely changed that June and became cold. That was why I got so mad when I saw you in my room with the broken trophy I had gotten when I was a kid because I was just so reminded of everything,” he frowns, “and it had hit me like a freaking truck. To see my current world and the past one collide was just—“ he pauses, “overwhelming to say the least,” he concludes everything and you’re left there completely speechless.

You could’ve never in your wildest dreams even guessed that this was why Jungkook had come back to Seoul and why he had acted so cold for so long. His grievances had happened in such a short period of time, that all it took was one wrong move to set him completely off. No wonder he had kept himself so isolated … he knew he was ticking time bomb waiting to finally explode at any given moment.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, his words processing in both of your minds. You want to say the words that are currently repeating themselves in your mind, I love you. Three simple words that could make him forget his past, even if it was for a small moment in time. “Jungkook—” he looks up at you, “I—” you stutter, the words clinging onto the tip of your tongue, “I um,” you feel your chest become heavy as he stares at you in curiosity, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you force out instead. He furrows his eyebrows, ready to protest against your apology, but you’re quick to interrupt before he gets the chance to.

“Since you’re being so honest with me, I feel like it’s only right I’m honest with you,” you bite your lip, disappointed with your cowardice, “So that like that we get a better understanding of one another,” you feign a smile.

“There’s a reason why I got so um…” you pause, “anxious before and during the galleria,” you narrow your eyes, it was now your turn to open a book that’d long been left incomplete. “I told you right? That I was an art student at Busan’s Art college but that I ended up transferring after an incident occurred…” He quietly nods, allowing you to continue, “and well I think I’m ready to talk about it,” you let out a breathy chuckle.

He stares at you in silence, ready to listen as well. “Growing up, I really liked painting,” you laugh, recalling the memory of you painting on the walls as a kid, “for some reason it was something I found myself falling further in love with every calendar year, but my parents, well they were on the more skeptical side of making a career out of it. I mean I don’t really blame them,” you sound unsure, “I mean I know that it’s hard these days to find success in the world of arts, or at least the level of success most people want to obtain but originally for me it didn’t matter,” you chuckle, remembering how naive you had been.

“Before entering college, I’d sell my little paintings and merchandise on those small-business centric websites like Etsy and stuff,” you say for example, “and you’re right, when you get told that you’re good at something, you really begin to believe it…”

Jungkook wants to interrupt and tell you that whatever your situation was, was much more different than his. That you were actually good at what you did, no, you were amazing at it. He wasn’t sure if he could listen to you talk down on yourself, but nonetheless he continues to listen.

“My first year of college I met people like Jimin who were so passionate about what they do that it really cemented the idea I had in wanting to turn my water painting into a career,” you sigh, “but in the back of my mind I always did have tiny doubts that lingered, and I always made sure not to feed them too much, but when you’re surrounded by people who are just as talented or even better than you, it gets hard not to.”

Jungkook completely understands where you’re coming from, having been in a similar position himself before. “And it didn’t help that my parents were constantly breathing down my neck about finding a different career to focus on,” you shrug “anyways,” you continue, shaking your head, “In Busan’s Art College, like many other colleges there are departments, like STEM and Business for example, but in this case things are separated by like dance, art, film, et cetera. And well if you can’t tell I’m a bit of a … pushy … person,” you laugh and Jungkook softly smiles, neither agreeing or disagreeing, “I think it’s due to me always feeling a need to overcompensate my insecurities, I guess. Like when you first moved in, in order to reassure myself that you didn’t hate me, the pushy side of me came out,” you explain, and the same way you began to understand Jungkook as he was explaining his story, Jungkook was beginning to understand you as a person.

“Well back to the focal point, I was a part of a committee club for painters within the art department, thinking that if I took charge of something, it’d increase my chances in succeeding in my career once I graduated. But the thing is, is when you join those committees I guess you could say there’s like a hierarchy of some sort, a cliché come to life,” you try your best to keep the conversation as lighthearted as you can, wanting the energy in the air to become one that was positive, a reflection of just how much you two had grown, “and well during my second year we were all assigned a project for some city poster in which we’d present to the committee’s leader, Nari, and where she and a couple of others would then choose which one was going to be used. And let me tell you, this was a career making project. The people who were going to be at the unveiling were names like Ji Hye Yeom, Haegue Yang, and more,” you sigh knowing you were coming to the rough part of the story.

“Nari had specifically told us that we were to only use materials she had chosen for us, and limited us to certain color schemes that in my opinion were the ugliest schemes I’d ever seen,” you scoff, “So me being the pushy person I am, I went ahead and continued with my original plan, which was making a watercolor painting because at the end of the day if my painting did happen to get chosen, I wanted it to be a genuine work of mine, not something that was limited by someone who was no more superior than me all because of some flimsy title,” you softly shake your head, “And so I poured my heart into it, working on it every chance I got during that school year in order to make sure that the committee would be so amazed , they’d have no choice but to choose it even if it didn’t exactly follow Nari’s regulations.”

A feigned smile graces onto your lips, refusing to cry at a situation from years ago, “I was so nervous that day to present it, but I was also so excited. Excited because I knew I created a piece that was so beautiful I—,” for a quick second your voice falters, but you’re quick to catch yourself, “I was just so sure they’d choose it,” you whisper, voice sounding frail and defeated.

“That day I presented it, I thought the silence that filled the room was because they were amazed,” you close your eyes for a moment, trying your best to push back any tears that wanted to make their way out, “God I still remember the extra specks of white and gold I added to it the night before, thinking those extra touches were really going to tip the scale in my favor,” you mumble, the embarrassment you felt that day coming back.

Jungkook feels his jaw harden, at this point an automatic response to the thought of your feelings being hurt. He didn’t know why, but to see someone as kind as you act out of character whether it be because you were mad or sad, always caused a heavy feeling in his chest. The only thing you deserved to feel was happiness and comfort, and though he wasn’t sure it was something, he, himself, could guarantee you … he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

“After what felt like 20 minutes, of complete silence she slowly got up in front of everyone,” you blankly stare at the trees in front of you, “I remember my heart beating out of my freaking chest for some reason, and the sweat beginning to form at my palms. And the moment she started speaking, I just went blank—” you turn to face Jungkook, who had a worrisome look on his face, “She started to berate me in front of everyone, insulting my hard work and telling me that even despite me breaking her guidelines, the painting still wasn’t any good,” you gulp, “But in fact, her words didn’t bother me at all,” you pause, “it was the comments from my supposed peers that really twisted the knife for me,” you scoff, “and then she did the unthinkable...”

Jungkook feels the heavy weight in his chest drop because he knows what you’re about to say. He knows what that woman did. And he knows why you were so hurt when he destroyed your painting, “She grabbed the canvas from the display board, and she ripped it,” you say, managing to muster up the smallest of smiles, but Jungkook knows that it's nothing more than a facade. An illusion so that he could think that you were no longer hurt by the actions of that woman.

“Once she did that, it just triggered everything else that followed after,” you furrow your brows, refusing to look at Jungkook, “I was being laughed at while having a panic attack,” you scoff, “I felt like I was in a scene from a high school movie,” you attempt to mask your hurt by making a joke.

“I ended up running out of the building, feeling as if my heart was going to explode from how fast it was pounding, and the compression in my throat was almost unbearable,” your voice cracks, “in just 20 minutes she took away any confidence I had in my artistic abilities, In just 20 minutes she made me question everything I knew about myself,” a tear finally falls from your eye, speaking the words you’d never said out loud before into the world.

“I attempted to stay at the school for a couple more weeks after that, but every time I picked up a paint brush, I just kept hearing her words along with the rest of my peers’ as well, second guessing every stroke I made on canvas. I had lost my spark,” you stifle a sob, “After that, I decided to transfer out and follow the plans’ my parents had always set out for me… and well, you know the rest,” you laugh in between your tears, wondering just how pitiful you must’ve looked. But soon enough you feel Jungkook's arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug so tight, you never wanted him to let go.

“Don’t leave,” you mumble into his chest.

Jungkook reassures you by cooing a small, “I won’t”, but gently you pull away once he does, holding onto his hand instead. A look of confusion washes over his face.

“No—” you shake your head, realizing he’s misunderstood, “I mean don’t leave our apartment,” you sniffle, giving him a small warm smile, leftover tears still brimming the corners of your eyes. His mouth gapes slightly open, taken back by your statement. He had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be moving out by Monday.

“We—” you shake your head, deciding that “we” wasn’t the right word in this case, “I need you,” you state, nothing but sincerity behind your words. Jungkook feels his heart skip a beat, the close-eyed soft smile that covers your face only making him smile in return.

He doesn’t need to say anything because you know … you know that he needs you just as much as you need him. You know that he’ll never leave your side from this day on because tonight was the start of a new chapter in your lives, one that included each other. Gently he pulls you into another hug, the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest being a feeling he could get used to.

“How did you even know where the venue was, or what the time the whole thing was?” you ask Jungkook, questions that hadn’t crossed your mind that day now forming.

“Hobi sent me a text that same night, very um … straightforward?” Jungkook chuckles, “It read, Art Exhibition. **** Namgang-Ro. 7:30 PM. Formal attire. You either go or you don’t. Up to you. Just don’t go crying later on that you regret not going. And well I had debated for several hours, originally chickening out and deciding to use me not having any formal suits as an excuse. That was until I walked into my room to find that Hobi had ironed one of his own for me to use,” Jungkook explains, “And well luckily I grew some balls and went and well now we’re here,” he smiles at you.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cut off too much of the story. We still have to remember all the good that came afterward,” you giggle, and he only flashes you an even bigger smile.

“Ah you’re right, you’re right. How could I forget?”

October 2019.

“Happy Halloween!” you and Jungkook wave to the kid dressed as Iron Man, glancing at the clock which currently read 10:00PM. Mm you’d give it one more hour before permanently closing your doors and calling it a day even if Jungkook protested for more time.

You see, tonight was Halloween, and for the first time since you and Hobi moved to your guys’ apartment, you were giving out candy to the little kids of your apartment complex who usually went floor to floor trick or treating and it was all thanks to Jungkook. You were surprised really, you would’ve never taken Jungkook as being someone who was such a kid at heart.

After weeks of begging, he’d finally managed to convince you and Hobi to not only dress, but distribute candy. Usually you and Hobi would turn off all the lights and ignore the knocks you’d receive on the door, choosing to have a movie night than to participate in Halloween festivities.

Realistically speaking, you sorta expected Jungkook to go out and party tonight which is why when he notified you weeks prior that all of you were going to be participating in giving out candy, you couldn’t find it in you to say no. Hobi on the other hand required a lot of convincing and though he wasn’t exactly helping with the distribution of candy, watching him dressed as Batman while lazily sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand was a gift in its own.

Jungkook, who desperately wanted to be a male version of Harley Quinn, had made you help him with cinching his crop top, exposing his toned lower abdomen every time he even stretched the slightest bit. It was…. quite a site … even causing several moms with their kids to “accidentally” stumble on your apartment floor again after only being there 10 minutes prior, your own little green monster finally making its appearance ….

But besides that, your favorite part of his whole costume was definitely the face/eye makeup he had done. The smoky blue and red along with the fake tatted heart under his left eye truly acting as the selling point of his costume. It just made him look very hot, more than usual. Hobi had even caught you staring at the boy on several occasions, teasingly nudging you whenever he did.

With Hobi dressed as Batman and Jungkook dressed as Harley Quinn, that of course only left you, who was currently dressed as none other than a female version of the Joker from Suicide Squad because despite how shitty the movie was, the style in which they made the Joker was still indeed very cool. Jungkook had even lent you his own natural artistic abilities to draw the tattoos where your dominant hand couldn’t firmly paint, laughing at the “twinsies” jokes you made in reference to his own tattoos. It had even given you the opportunity to ask him what each one of his own real tattoos meant to him.

Most of his tattoos, he explained, were done out of impulse. A majority of them being done in the states on a complete whim, but a couple of them held significant meaning to him. For example, his tattoo of a bandaged hand clearly represented his history with boxing. He explained that rather than get the overused boxing gloves as a tattoo, he’d get a simple bandaged hand done, deciding that it looked cooler and that you agreed with. Another example was the tattoo that translated to “Life Goes On” which was pretty self-explanatory, but meaningful nonetheless. Jungkook explained that it was one his favorite mottos growing up, and well recently it seemed to weave perfectly into his life.

But your favorite tattoo? The small One Piece manga strip he had across his left forearm. The story behind it almost caused you to shed a tear, had it not been for your white powdered makeup, you probably would've cried. You see, when Jungkook was a young boy he’d always watch One Piece as a distraction from boxing, falling in love with the story and its characters.

His dad, who’d always scold him whenever he caught him late at night watching the anime, never understood why Jungkook liked the show so much. It wasn’t until one night he somehow managed to convince his dad to watch the episode he was on, and despite not knowing anything about what was going on nor the characters’ names, his dad ended up loving the show just as much as him. The show had acted as a new bond between the two, from buying the latest manga volumes to staying up late at night to watch the newest episode. And well the strip on Jungkook’s arm was from the exact episode he had managed to convince his dad to watch with him that night. The tattoo serves as a representation of a memory he holds dearest to him, a memory of his dad.

“Ah I think that’s the last of it,” Jungkook looks into the last bag of candy he had bought, absolutely nothing left inside, “Wasn’t this fu—”

“Let’s go get a tattoo,” you interrupt, the idea coming to you out of nowhere. Jungkook tilts his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowing. A tattoo? You? Ms. I do not even have a dot of ink on my skin?

“A tattoo!?” Hobi turns from the TV, now having got his attention.

Both men stare at you in silence, thinking this was all some big joke until you begin to nod, reaffirming your choice, “Yes! All three of us! Matching roommate tattoos,” you smile, not exactly sure what had gotten into you, but surprisingly... completely okay with it.

Jungkook, noticing just how serious you were about this, begins to feel a smile form on his face. It wasn’t like he minded, he just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to regret it the next morning, “Y/N, you sure you one? I mean … you’re not someone I picture getting a tattoo, I mean think of your job,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, think of your job!” Hobi butts in, clearly not in favor of getting a tattoo.

Vigorously, you nod your head, “I’m one hundred percent sure,” you laugh, “I promise you, I won’t regret it,” you stick out your pinky finger, and Jungkook is quick to hug it with his own.

“W-What the?” Hobi stutters, unsure if it was the alcohol or shock in his system causing it. Probably both.

You turn to Hobi, “If you really don’t want it, then you don’t have to get it,” you shrug, “But at least come with us,” you smile, hoping that once you were there at the parlor shop you’d be able to convince him.

Sitting on the leather stool with your forearm displayed, the tattooist begins to prep your skin placing rubbing alcohol on the area in which you had chosen to get your tattoo. Now that you are here, you couldn’t lie, you were a bit nervous. But mostly because you were skeptical of the pain the needle would give you.

Jungkook had described it as “a cat repeatedly scratching a sunburn”... as if you were supposed to know what that means. He also said that depending on your pain tolerance you’d either like the feeling, get used to it, or absolutely hate it. It just varied from person to person as well as the placement where you were choosing to get it.

Supposedly the inner wrist didn’t hurt, but with the sudden stinging sensation you were feeling, you were a bit unsure of that now.

“So is that your boyfriend out there?” the woman tattooing you suddenly asks, catching you completely by surprise. If she didn’t have a pricking needle against your skin , you probably would’ve jumped at the accusation.

Trying your best to keep your cool, you respond, “Oh um—” you shake your head, “No,” you awkwardly laugh, “I wish”, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” she hums, the same smirk Jimin once gave you appearing on her face, “Sorta seemed like it out there, I mean I’m sure if he had the option he would’ve chosen to sit here right next to you and hold your hand,” she teases, and a blush appears on your cheeks.

“Oh that’s just how he is with everyone,” you reason, not wanting to feed into the delusions that Jungkook could possibly return any feelings for you, “He’s a very protective person, sometimes a little too much, but it has its benefits,” you joke around.

She shrugs, continuing to work on the small tattoo, “”Mm I don’t know, I mean the way with the way he looks at youuuu,” she sings, “because you clearly like him,” she laughs.

“No I don’t!” you pout, “We’re just close friends, that’s all….”

“Close friends don’t look at each other like that, and they’re certainly not as touchy as you two are,” she says, only causing you to scoff.

“You don’t know what you’re ta—”

“All done!” she smiles, wiping over the fresh new ink on your skin one last time, “Look how easy it was for me to get you to stop wincing so much,” she winks at you, and suddenly everything begins to make sense. She was trying to get you to relax. Was the topic she chose really the best one? No. But it worked didn’t it?

She places the plastic wrap over it, “So what do you think?” you stare at the new permanent piece of work on your skin, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Ah I—”

“Love it so much!” you flash Jungkook the two-month old ink on your skin, the digital numbers “00:00” acting as a permanent reminder of the day all three of you officially became roommates. It was small, yes, but to you it meant so much.

Jungkook pulls his own sleeve, showing you his own matching ink, “Zero o’ clock,” he hums, recalling a song he heard not too long ago on the radio.

“Ah too bad we couldn’t convince Hobi to get one,” you sigh, remembering how firm he was that night, “but we’ll get him next time,” you laugh.

Jungkook quirks his brow, “Next time?”

You nod your head, “I can see why people get addicted to these things,” you joke, “they’re like their own pieces of art,” you smile.

“Design mine next time,” he suddenly says, his statement coming off more as a command than a question. Turning to face him, you look for any small sign that he was joking.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, “I think a watercolor style painting would look amazing rightttt,” he points to the side of his ribcage, “here.”

Eyes widening in shock, you’re in complete disbelief, “You—you’re crazy!” you laugh, refusing to take him seriously.

“Ah I’m being serious Y/N,” he pouts, “Come on you know you want toooo,” he sings, softly nudging you.

You stare at him for a moment, “Are you sure?” you ask, skeptical about his seriousness.

He nods, “As sure as you were about getting that tattoo that night,” he teases, and you only roll your eyes in return.

“Mmm,” you hum, “I’ll think about it.”

“Think?! I’m your roommate!” he dramatically complains, throwing his head against your shoulder, suddenly in a clingy mood. Maybe the tattooist was right… maybe you two were a little too touchy….

You mean, just last month during friendsgiving, Hobi just had to complain in front of everyone claiming, “If you two don’t get your own room—”

“Then I think at some point this turkey is going to come back alive just to tell you two himself,” he slurs his words, wine glass in hand.

Drunk Yoongi tags in, “How do you know it’s a he?” he squints his eyes, gearing up for a debate.

Hobi rolls his eyes and makes a dismissive motion with his hand, “Not now Yoongi,” he says, causing everyone sitting at the table to laugh, and he turns his attention back to you and Jungkook, currently sitting next to each other, “Are you two going to continue playing footsies or are you finally going to—”

Seokjin interrupts by awkwardly coughing and tapping his champagne glass with his fork, getting up from his seat in the process, “I think it’s the perfect time to do our annual “What am I thankful for” toast, so I’ll begin,” he laughs, all eyes on him, “So um this year I am thankful for all of my friends who continuously stick by side throughout the years, and for the wonderful woman I’ve grown to love more and more every day,” he warmly smiles at his girlfriend, the two already seeming like a married couple despite having only met this year. Seokjin turns his attention to Yoongi, signalling that it was his turn.

He groans before getting up, peeved as to why Seokjin always insisted on doing these things, “Okay okay—”

“This is gonna take a while,” you whisper to Jungkook, Yoongi’s speech now fading into the background.

Jungkook quietly chuckles in response, “You think? How long do you think it’ll take before he starts with his “back in my day” speech?” he jokes around.

Suddenly Yoongi’s voice becomes more audible, “Back in my day we didn’t use—”

You and Jungkook snortle a laugh, “Not long,” you respond, the two of you trying your best to keep your snickering at a low.

“So … got anything prepared?” he asks, this being his first year and all doing this kind of thing, he was a bit nervous as to what to say.

You shake your head, “Mm no, you just sorta say what’s on your mind? I guess?” you awkwardly laugh, “Trust me, as long as they have their bottles of soju next to them, whatever you say will go in one ear and out the other,” you reassure, remembering the first year you did this and gave a heartwarming speech, just for it to be ignored because Namjoon could’ve sworn he’d seen the “turkey move”. From there it led to an hour debate on whether a dead freaking turkey could still possibly be alive after having it in the oven for several hours.

He nods his head, noting what you’ve said.

After going around it was now the last toast of the night,“Ah and lastly onto our newest member in this friend group,” Namjoon, who had just finished his own speech, turns to Jungkook and pats his shoulder, “take it away,” he gives him a dimpled smile before sitting back in his seat.

Jungkook awkwardly blinks at him for a moment, not getting up until you nudge him to do so. “Oh yeah…” he forces a laugh, “Um so where do I begin,” you almost feel second hand embarrassment, if you thought you weren’t any good under pressure, Jungkook might take the crown.

“So… The first thing I want to say I’m thankful for are the new friends I’ve made since coming to Seoul,” he spares a glance to the boys, “um..” he bites his lip, “The second thing or person may I say, that I want to thank is Hobi…” he smiles at the drunk man, “well for giving me a second chance per say,” he chuckles, “I know I don’t say it often, but I’m truly grateful for you picking up my call that night,” Hobi gives a small warm smile, “And well the last person I want really want to mention that I’m thankful for is … you,” Jungkook suddenly turns his attention down to you, catching you by surprise.

Raising your eyebrows, you wonder where this is coming from, “I um—” he feighs a small laugh, “I know I wasn’t exactly the nicest person when I first moved in, but—” he exhales a breath, “But you gave continuously gave me a chance to prove otherwise every single time until I finally got it right,” he smiles, “and well last year I had a pretty rough year,” he jokes around, “and honestly I thought coming in 2019 it’d be just bad, but you single handedly proved me wrong and made sure this was going to be a year for me to remember and well for that I’m forever grateful,” you silently blink away any tears, not wanting to get teased at for crying after this his speech was done. He breaks away the gaze he held on you in order to finish his speech off, “So with that I say … cheers everyone!”

Everyone raises their glasses of whatever it was they chose to drink, clinking it all in the middle and repeating “Cheers!” before gulping down whatever was left of their drinks. The rest of the night is filled with nothing but laughs and joy, as well as the remainder of the month, every single day creating a new memory for the three of you, until you were left with nothing but...

“The present day,” you whisper to yourself, unable to believe that the year had gone by so fast.

“What a year it’s been huh…” Jungkook softly smiles, glancing at the time on his phone which reads 11:50. 10 more minutes until the new year. 10 more minutes until zero’o clock.

“Yeah…” a comfortable silence fills the air around you, how had the hour gone by in the blink of an eye? You wonder if it’s the effect Jungkook just naturally has on people because never did you find time going by so fast unless you were with him.

“I—”

“So—”

Your cheeks become a tinge of pink , “Oh you go first—” he shakes his head.

“No, no, go ahead,” he laughs, insisting that you go instead.

This was the perfect chance, the chance to tell him about the feelings you’d grown to have for him in the past year. You just needed to grow the courage to say those three letter words that were itching to be said. It was either now or never.

“I um, I just wanted to say thank you,” you chicken out once again, “I didn’t get the chance to say it on friendsgiving, but,” you gulp, “your speech it um meant a lot to me, and well I’m just as grateful for you,” you chuckle, “I think maybe even more.”

Had you noticed, you would’ve seen the slightly disappointed look on Jungkook’s face, “Oh..” he says, a small pout appearing on his face.

“What were you going to say?” you ask, faking the pep in your voice, ready to eternally scold yourself for being a chicken once you got back to the cabin.

He sighs, “It’s nothing really,” he shrugs, but you nudge his shoulder before he could divert the conversation elsewhere.

“Come on, just say it,” you tease, “because you either speak now or forever hold your piece,” you look at the time, “5 minutes till midnight.”

He stays silent for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should say what had been on his mind for quite some time, “I um—” fuck it, it was either now or never, “You know how I told you that I couldn’t sleep right? That it’s why I came out here…” you innocently nod your head as he continues, “well it’s cause I had already sorta been thinking about everything that’s happened this year…” he lets out a small chuckle.

“I mean isn’t it crazy?” he pushes his hair back with his hand, “Someone who was nothing more than a stranger before the clock hit twelve that night is now someone I can’t picture not being in my life,” you feel your heart flutter at his words, “And I mean to think we didn’t get along at first,” he lets out a breath of disbelief, “All because I was a person who was—” he pauses, unsure of how to describe himself from that time, “angry,” he decides to say, “I was an angry person who mad at the world,” he bites his lip in retribution for his attitude back then.

“No,” you laugh, shaking your head, “you were just someone who was… hurt. That’s all it was,” you say.

“You think?” you nod your head yes, “I never really thought about it like that,” he mumbles, “Would you do it all over again?” he suddenly asks, and you find yourself quirking your brow at his question, “Like if you had the chance would you do it all over again…” he further explains.

Without a second thought you say, “Yeah I would,” you giggle, “And you?”

He remains silent for a moment, pondering on his own question before nodding his head as well, “I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again because then I’d get to relive the process of falling in love with you all over again,” he finally says, “I’d get to pinpoint the exact moment this year that I fell in love with you.”

“In ten, nine, eight…” the families around you begin to shout the countdown, and all you can do is stare at Jungkook in disbelief of what you just heard come out of his mouth.

“Y-You love me?” you manage to stutter out, a smile now forming on your lips.

“Seven, six, five…..”

Silently, he nods his head, a loving smile on his face as he leans towards you, the flutter in your stomach only intensifying.

“Four, three, two, one….”

And as if time had stopped, his lips finally meet yours and the only thing you could feel were the placement of warm lips against yours, giving you a New Year’s kiss that would be remembered for years to come.

“Happy New Year!” the sound of fireworks popping are echoed in the background because the only thing you could focus on were the soft lips that were moving with yours. His fingers curl around yours, creating such an intimacy that you were sure you had to be dreaming. It wasn’t until you found yourself kissing him back that the reality of everything finally set in. Jungkook loved you.

Slowly he pulls away, savoring the kiss till its very last moment, “Happy New Years Y/N,” he whispers, a grin plastered on his face.

Laughing in return, you smile, “Happy New Years Jungkook.”

Once you and Jungkook returned to the cabin, you were met with several complaints from Hobi, “Finally! We’ve been freezing all night!” Hobi exclaimed the moment you two walked in, harshly grabbing the firewood from Jungkook’s hands. It wasn’t until he peeped your linked arms that everything began to make sense, “Ahhh,” he gives you two a toothy grin, “You guys, look who’ve finally confessed to one another,” he yells, catching the attention of everyone in the living room.

Suddenly the room is filled with several “finally’s” causing both of your mouths to slightly agape open. “What do you mean “finally” ?” you furrow your eyebrows, looking at Hobi for an explanation.

He scoffs, “Don’t act dense you two!” he laughs, “It was so obvious you two liked one another, you two were just too blind to see it yourselves,” he scolds both you and Jungkook by flicking your foreheads, “You just didn’t have to go confessing while all of us were freezing in here!”

Both you and Jungkook awkwardly laugh, a guilty look on one another’s face. “Well choo you two before I make you two clean everything up and babysit our friends!” Hobi makes a motion with his hands, and the two of you are quick to make your way upstairs into Jungkook’s room. Thankful that he didn’t punish the two of you.

Jungkook is quick to take off his puffy jacket, plopping himself onto the bed like a little kid, a loud breathy sigh following after. You stare at him for a moment, unsure of what to do, that is until you see him open his arms wide with a pout appearing on his face, “Come onnn,” he sings, “Let’s cuddle,” he shoots you a smile.

Playfully you roll your eyes before taking off your own jacket, plopping onto the spot next to him. Small feverish giggles escape your lips once he begins to give you tiny kisses all over, enveloping you in a hug so tight, it would’ve been impossible to ever doubt his feelings for you.

“Jungkook stop,” you laugh, the tickles he was now giving you making the sides of your stomach hurt, “Jung—” you attempt to push his hand away, face becoming red at just how much you were laughing, his own high-pitched laugh echoing across the walls of the room with you. From there he does a mixture of both tickling and kissing you, the two of you truly in your own world.

Soon though, your little game of tickles becomes a full on makeout session, not that you were complaining. Currently you lay under him with Jungkook leaning against you, using his arm that rested on the bed as support.

Slowly he slips his tongue into your mouth, gentle but demanding, nothing less than pure love behind the kiss. “Jungkooook,” you quietly whine once he begins to move onto your neck, every suckle lasting a little longer than the last. His hand interlocks with yours as he continues, you’re hand subconsciously playing with his hair from behind, making small twirls with the brown wavy locks of hair.

“I love youuu,” he cooes, a certain gleam to his eyes. Soon enough, his fingers were teasingly playing with the waistband of your leggings. And God, were you dripping. “Can I?” he innocently looks at you, licking his lips in the process. You’d be crazy to say no.

Nodding your head yes, he nudges your legs apart and begins to pull off the cotton fabric from your legs. You help him along the way, desperate to receive your own pleasure.

Teasingly, he swipes his index finger over the fabric of your underwear, continuing to pepper you with warm kisses on the underside of your jaw. The grip you had on his hair became tighter with every swipe, “Aren’t you wet?” he slyly chuckles, rubbing small circles with his placed finger.

“Stop teasing,” you whine, only causing him to muffle a laugh against your shoulder.

“I just wanna take my timeeeee,” he hums, placing a kiss to your cheek, “Can I take my time?” he pouts, only causing you to roll your eyes, agreeing nonetheless, “That’s my girl,” he whispers, pecking you on the lips before continuing, cupping your cheek with his … unoccupied … hand.

“God you’re beautiful,” he says staring at your pleasured expression, a result of the friction between his finger and your underwear becoming more intense.

“Jungkook,” your voice shakes, wanting needing him to do something before the muscles in your leg spasm any more.

“Shh shh not too loud,” he softly mumbles, because considering how drunk the boys’ were, any loud noise and you’d have someone idiotically stumbling into the room in order to find out whatever the noise was. Not wanting you to complain any more, he slips his finger under your underwear, pressing both his middle and index finger to the centerfold of your sex, “Look how wet you are,” he smirks, coaxing another moan from your lips.

Jungkook couldn’t lie, he’d envisioned this moment a couple of times before, but to have it becoming a reality was completely different than what he imagined. It was indeed better.

“I bet you’d love for me to take these off,” he teasingly pretends to pull down your panties, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Please Jungkook,” you cry, how was it possible to already be on the verge of releasing when he hadn’t even done anything explicit yet? He begins to move his fingers up and down your clit, coating his fingers with your wetness, preparing to insert his fingers in your aching hole, “Please—” you attempt to whimper his name again, but his lips passionately kiss you before you get the chance to. It’s once he does that, that the energy in the room shifts, becoming one of playful teasingness to one of passion and love. It’s while he kisses you that he finally sinks his single finger into your pussy, your wetness helping him in gradually picking up the pace until soon enough he’s able to slip in another. Your moan being suppressed by the pressing of his lips against yours, softly nibbling on your lower lip.

“So fucking tight,” he mutters, the squelching sounds coming from your pussy bringing him a sense of pleasure, “Can’t wait to make love to you,” he whispers watching as your eyes lazily roll back, the sight being one he’d remember for a very long time.

“J—Just like that Jungkook,” you manage to stutter out, your arousal dripping in and out of your pussy as he continues with his motions. By now you feel his hardened member kneading against panties, his self-restraint holding on by a string. God, did he wanna fuck your brains out already. Had you been some kind of one night stand and he probably would already be doing so, but you, well you were different. You were his. And he was going to make sure you knew it to.

With his other hand he begins to slide his way under your shirt, caressing your breasts while fingering you, “Take off the shirt,” he mumbles while planting kisses on your neck, and you’re quick to obey, pulling the shirt over your head and uncaringly throwing it onto the floor.

By now you were dressed in only your underwear and bra, which to you seemed a bit unfair and so purposely you begin to play with the hem of his shirt, in hopes that he’d get the message. When he doesn’t, you momentarily stop him from kissing you any further, mumbling a tiny, “Mm take off your shirt,” causing him to let out a breathy laugh. He does as told, exposing the toned torso you’d find yourself frequently gawking over for in the past year. Because truly, his body proportions were insane.

Gently pulling him from his hair, you deepen the kiss by running your other hand across his bare back, the warm skin to skin touch providing another level of intimacy. “Let me eat you out,” he murmurs against your lips, waiting for a simple three letter word so that he can finally pull off your panties.

Instead you give him a small “MmHm,” with a small nod which in this case would suffice as he was sure you were too lost in your own world of pleasure to properly respond. Delicately he removes your underwear, parting your legs in between before lowering his head.

Without saying a word, he runs his finger against your slit, licking and sucking on the fluid that dripped from his finger. What. A. Fucking. Tease. “Jungkooook,” you whine like a brat, the heat you felt below almost unbearable at this point.

“What a pretty pussy,” he rasps, gives your clit a gentle kiss before suckling against it, his saliva mixing with your fluids. Immediately you feel a wave of pure bliss, your fingers slightly trembling at just how good the sudden sensation felt.

“Oh God Jungkook,” you needily whisper once he slips his finger back inside, pushing it deep into your core all while eating you out. Your breathy moans along with the sound of your wet pussy being toyed around with, fill the room. With your eyes half-open, you manage to look down at the sight of Jungkook licking through your folds, his messy hair covering most of his face until you use your hand to push it back, wanting to savor the view in front of you.

“Just look at you,” he groans, admiring the view of your back arched along with your thighs which slightly quivered at the flicks of his tongue, “All fucking mine, you got that?” he asks.

When you don’t respond, he inserts a second finger, catching your attention.

“Yes!” you cry at the sudden jolt of pleasure, his fingers scissoring inside of you, “I’m all yours,” you answer and to that he smirks, curling his fingers inside you. His ego at a level unthinkable. From there he continues to suck and slurp any remnants of your wetness, ignoring your warnings that you were about to orgasm.

It isn’t until he feels a quick rougher than usual tug to the hair followed with a gentle release that he knows you’ve came. Only then does he stop, quickly making his way to sweetly kiss you as you ride through your orgasm. You barely manage to kiss him back, too overwhelmed by orgasm he just brought down on you.

He cups your face once again, making out with you once again even if you were lazily kissing him back, “Jungkook,” you croak out, “Make love to me,” you dazedly whisper, recalling his words from earlier, and without a single word he begins to kiss you again, this time even more passionately (if that was possible) your words triggering a certain fire within him. And despite being in a post-orgasm state, you kiss him with just as much passion as he is doing to you.

By now the two of your hands’ were entangled with each others’ hair, Jungkook roughly pressing his clothed erection against the barity of your pussy. Releasing one of his hands from his hair, he smoothly travels down your back, removing the clasp of your bra with his hand. Deciding not to question his skills, you help further remove it until you’re only left completely nude. Your tits now on full display for him.

He soon begins to tenderly suck on your hardened nipples, one hand caressing the opposing tit whenever he was sucking on one, providing equal attention to both. You begin to play with the button of his black pants, desperately ready to have Jungkook completely inside you. Jungkook notices your lack of patience, deciding that just this time he’d give you what you want.

Pushing himself off you, he begins to unbutton his pants, your heart now beating out of excitement once you see the band of his black boxers. This was really happening. And though you’d seen Jungkook’s cock before, specifically with a woman having it wrapped inside her mouth, to see it this time around was definitely much more shocking than the first…. Was he always this big? The veins that run along his fair-colored cock only add to it’s intimidating appearance.

Pushing himself back on you, he sloppily kisses you all over, from your mouth to the side of your neck, slowly making his way downard. His cock teases the slit of your entrance, coaxing along the delicate folds of your pussy. Intertwining his hand with yours, he looks at you one last time, “You ready?” he breathes out.

Biting your lip, you slowly nod your head yes, his head then slowly pushing into your tight entrance, a groan coming from both of your lips, “God I fucking love you,” he breathily moans beside your ear.

“I love you too,” you whisper in return, his gaze never leaving yours as his cock tortuously enters you inch by inch, the grip you have on his hand tightening with every passing second, “Oh my god,” you whimper, his pre-cum along with your prior wetness making the push inside more bearable.

It isn’t until you’re completely filled up by his cock that he slowly begins to move. Each and every deep thrust garnerning both whines and mewls from you, “Fuck,” he moans, his voice raspy from pleasurable sensation he was feeling. Somehow he manages to continue to plaster kisses all over you, his hands tightly wrapped around your waist as he continues to grind his hips against yours, making nothing but love to you.

Your hot walls now take him with ease, the small pressure you had originally felt having slowly faded away. He keeps his thrusts at a moderate pace, wanting to savor the moment.

“J—Jungkook,” you cry out, feeling your second orgasm coming as you wrap your legs around his waist. He begins to pick up his pace, “Faster,” you moan, remembering that he was definitely okay with having rough sex, considering how many times you’d have to hear other woman moan just how harder they wanted back in the beginning of last year. Who said he couldn’t do the same for you?

“Faster?” he questions, a certain spark now in his eye, “You sure?” eagerly you nod your head yes, too lost in the idea of your possible orgasm to think of the repercussions of your answer. Because soon you find yourself getting completely fucked out, the pace of his thrust becoming almost uncomparable to the pace he was going before, this time not caring at all for rhythm. By now you're sure that your different number of cries and moans could be heard from downstairs, but honestly you could give less of a fuck.

The sound of your skin slapping with his echo against the wooden walls, your eyes screwing shut as you felt your high come. His rapid thrust continuing as he fucks you into oblivion, “Just look at you, creaming on my fucking cock,” he groans, by now sweat was forming on the creases of his forehead, “and to think I get to have you like this all to myself, every single day,” he chuckles, the tight feeling in his abdomen signalling to him that his own release was coming.

“Cum in me Jungkook,” you whine, and with that he does, his white milky cum coating your walls from the inside and out. He admires the view in front of him, the sight of you completely fucked out with his cum dripping from the entrance of your pussy, wondering how he got so lucky.

Out of breath, the two of you cuddle with one another, your eyes half closed, ready to knock out at any moment. But before you do, Jungkook peppers one last kiss onto your cheek, mumbling a final “I love you,” ready for the new memories this year would bring for the two of you.

a/n : ahhhhhh! finally finished with my finals so i was able to finally get this done! for some reason i sorta got attached to this couple, i think it’s because we got to see literally every month of their forming relationship so i just ended up really loving the dynamic between the two lmao. butttt all stories must come to an end :( and i’m very happy with how this story came out, but who knows maybe we’ll this couple again in the future. anywayssss like, reblog, comment, message me an anon or even directly! anything is appreciated (I swear im not a mean person) and ill see yall next time! 💞

mini taglist: @ggukkieland @unicornbabylover

864 notes · View notes

loudstan · 4 years ago

Text

Epiphany

A collection of NCT werewolf AU stories.

Doyoung (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4) (pt. 5) (pt. 6) (pt. 7)

Summary: The wolf population kept decreasing and those who were left had a hard time trying to fit into society. Sure, people didn’t consider them as dangerous as vampires, but wolves could still sense some hostility every time they did as much as go for a walk in a public place. Thanks to wolves’ natural magical abilities, NCT (one of the remaining packs) found a safe place among witches in a town where no one knew their secret, allowing some members to finally get a job, study and interact with others without fear of being rejected.

Life seems to finally be peaceful for them… except that wolves have needs, and one of those needs is finding their mate.

Pairing: Werewolf! Doyoung x Witch! female reader

Warnings: future smut

“...How do I break the bond?” you asked him after a few seconds.

“What?”

You sat up and repeated louder, “How do I get rid of this?”

Taeyong’s heart clutched at your words. This was not how it was supposed to go. For the first time, someone from his pack had imprinted, destined to love someone the universe had chosen for him for the rest of his life, but now Doyoung’s mate was right in front of him, mark fresh on her neck, declaring she didn’t want to fulfill her destiny. She was rejecting the bond.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sure this is not how you planned your freshman year to go, so I understand if you need some time to accept it…”

“I don’t need time, Taeyong. I need Doyoung out of my life,” you heard him whimper at your words, “Him being a werewolf is not the problem, not at all! It 's him. He 's an asshole.”

“His behaviour hasn’t been ideal, I agree,” he almost stumbled over his own words. “But the truth is, no one around us has ever been through this before. He is the first and he’s terrified of himself. It’s no excuse, I know, but please…”

He kneeled next to the sofa, looking at the floor in pliability, “Please, give him a chance.”

“Taeyong,” you sigh and he looks up at you hopefully, “He doesn’t deserve it.”

He thought so too, but he was still hoping you would consider it.

Before all this happened, his biggest concern was if he would ever meet his mate. Now, he was more worried his mate would reject him like you were rejecting Doyoung.

Looks like the bond does not necessarily lead towards a happy ending.

“There are two ways to break the bond,” he finally revealed.

Doyoung didn’t sleep that night. He had first waited patiently for his leader to come, but as the sky became darker, his anxiety grew. He exhaled relieved and hurried towards the front door when he heard Taeyong arriving.

“How is she?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“What do you think?” Taeyong spat and walked past him.

If Doyoung could feel the tension, it still didn’t stop him from following Taeyong around the house.

“Is she mad? Oh god, of course she is… What did she say?” he bumped into Taeyong’s back, who had suddenly stopped walking.

The leader turned around, narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. “If you really care, fix this before it’s too late,” he said bitterly, before entering his room and slamming the door.

And there was Doyoung now, sitting on his bed, trying to come up with a way to see you now that the semester was over...except that it wasn’t for those whose grades were insufficient. He still hadn’t graded your last paper, so if your grade didn’t let you pass but was just enough for a supplementary exam, you would have to show up on campus again.

He mulled it over. It was a dick move, but he could just change your grade after meeting you and say it was a mistake.

He turned his laptop on and took a look at your grades, calculating the exact number he needed and without a second thought he wrote it down in the last empty space next to your name. Now he just needed to prepare what to say and how to say it.

The next day he went to campus early, as usual, helped the professor finish with some paperwork and took care of the students that had unfinished homework. He checked his email multiple times, reading the neverending pleas from desperate students who needed to pass the class. None of those was yours.

The very same routine was repeated the next day, and the day after, for more than a week. You never showed up and he never got to say what he had rehearsed.

“Mr. Choi?” Doyoung asked casually, like he hadn’t spent a week sleepless thinking about the topic, “Has Y/L/N contacted you? She’s the only one left for the supplementary exam.”

Mr. Choi paused chewing the chocolate donut he was holding and hummed like he was trying to remember who Y/L/N was. “Oh, she did! She said she’ll be taking the course again next year when she feels more prepared. It’s a shame though, I think she is pretty good, but she doesn’t seem to do well in written assignments.”

Doyoung dropped his phone on the table, the loud sound startling poor Mr.Choi who choked on his donut and started coughing dramatically.

“Next year? I won’t even be here next year…” Doyoung said absentmindedly, ignoring his professor’s cough.

“Uh...yeah, you’ll be a great lawyer and I’ll lose the best TA ever,” he said when he was able to breath again.

Doyoung tried to smile at the compliment. He really did, but his chest felt heavy. He knew this wasn’t about you not being ready for the class, this was all on him.

What if he sent you an email encouraging you to take the exam?

Or even better, what if he sent you an email letting you know your last grade was a mistake and your paper had made him so proud he felt like he wanted to marry you right there?

He considered all those options on his way home, but by the time he locked himself in his room, he knew he would do none of them.

He was too prideful.

He was a coward.

Just when he was thinking he wouldn’t see you again, he smelled your scent. It was faint, but it was there for sure, he couldn’t be mistaken. But, why in his house? Could it be…?

Nervously he walked to the door, opened it and looked down the corridor. There was no one there, but now your scent was more intense.

Slowly, he went to the kitchen, where Taeyong was getting something to drink. He acknowledged Doyoung’s presence with a nod and proceeded to finish his glass of juice. Ever since Doyong had marked you and run away from the scene, Taeyong had barely talked to him.

Doyoung looked around, but there was no one else.

Just Taeyong, standing in the kitchen.

With your scent all over him.

“Where were you?” Doyoung asked.

Taeyong stopped drinking, he put his now empty glass on the counter and stared at it for a second too long.

“Busy,” he finally replied, attempting to leave the kitchen, but halting when Doyoung punched the wall right next to his face.

Doyoung leaned closer to Taeyong and inhaled deeply. The leader glared back at him but didn’t move. He knew very well who he smelled like.

“Why do you smell like my mate?” Doyoung hissed.

“She needed my help with something.”

“With what?”

Taeyong looked at his feet and swallowed. His mouth felt way too dry for someone who had just drank that much juice. “...You should have fixed things with her, Doyoung.”

“I tried.”

“How?”

“I…” Doyoung suddenly realised how dumb it sounded to admit that he had made you fail the class to have you come to him, so he adapted it to a less childish version, “I have been waiting for her at campus everyday for the past week.”

“...That 's all? You just waited for her to go to you?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“She wants to break the bond,” Taeyong deadpanned instead of answering that question. “She asked me how to do it.”

Doyoung took a step back.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Maybe I did.”

“Would you betray your own pack? What a great leader we have,” Doyoung scoffed in disbelief.

“Well, last time I checked you didn’t seem to want her,” Taeyong huffed.

No. It couldn’t be. He could still feel the bond, so it wasn’t broken, Taeyong was bluffing.

Beep!

Taeyong’s phone rang from the counter and its dim light caught Doyoung’s attention.

Doyoung reached for it out of instinct and read the notification before Taeyong could even move. It was a message from you.

Thanks for everything. I’m ready :)

Taeyong snatched the phone from him and read the message too and then glanced at Doyoung who was in pure shock. However, he snapped out of it when he saw Taeyong moving towards the door.

“Don’t do it” Doyoung pleaded , grabbing the other’s arm desperately.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong sounded exhausted, “What else is there to do? You didn’t want her, now she doesn’t want you.”

“Let me talk to her just once, please. That’s all I ask.”

“You won’t convince her to meet you. She doesn’t even go out nowadays.”

“I’ll go to her place.”

“You don’t even know whe-” Taeyong stopped mid-sentence when Doyoung hid his face on his neck and inhaled your scent.

“Now I do, thanks to you,” And without another word, Doyoung left the house running.

Taeyong stood there dumbfounded.What did Doyoung mean? How would he find your apartm-

“Oh shit, her scent!” he yelled and dialed your number hurriedly.

#doyoung #kim doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct imagines #nct drabbles

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

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Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 3

A/N Let’s get things moving

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

Jonah and I stepped in through the sliding glass door that led from the back porch into the living room of my house. The main floor was quiet and tidy and the blinds on all the windows were still open, allowing the entire space to be brightened nicely. Jonah closed the door behind us, and we paused a moment to look around at our initial surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place; it looked just like how we left it nearly three weeks earlier.

I made the first move farther into the house, scanning surfaces and spaces for any sign of anything that could help trigger my memory of the night before…but even our suitcases from the flight home weren’t there. I ended up finding them in the master bedroom at the end of the hallway, rested neatly against the door with my laptop bag placed on top. Our room was no different than when we left with the sheets pulled tightly over the bed and topped with the odd decorative pillow; a few random items left on the two bedside tables. I let my eyes linger on the framed photograph of Avalon and me on the beach a few summers back that was sat on the small table on my own side of the bed. She wore this terrible huge white sunhat and a pair of designer sunglasses I had bought her for her birthday but her smile was the brightest thing in the picture regardless of what accessories she wore, and even my own self in the photograph was staring at her with nothing but awe.

“Daniel.”

Jonah’s voice pulled me from my thoughts and I followed his voice back down the hallway to the kitchen. He was standing at the end of the island and pointed to the floor with the toe of his shoe to lead my eyes down to the smashed glass and spilt water on the hardwood.

“Remember something about this?” he asked.

“God, I fucking hate you!” she screamed, throwing her water glass at me and it fell and shattered on the ground as she spun on her heel to head towards the sliding doors leading to the backyard.

“Don’t walk away while we’re talking!” I called angrily after her, hot on her heels as she stormed out into the dark backyard. I stopped the door with my foot before she should slide it shut and I followed after her into the warm LA night towards the studio built a few paces from the back deck. “You wanted me to talk to you so goddamn badly so here I am!”

“This isn’t talking, Daniel!” she stomped down the three stairs of the back porch and across the stone walkway to the studio door. “Leave me alone!”

The scene played in my head like a picture, like it was a true memory, but how could I be sure? I furrowed my eyebrows and stepped closer to crouch down and pick up one of the larger pieces between my fingers, “I don’t know.”

“It has to trigger something, Daniel. Be honest with me, bro.” Jonah pressed.

I tapped the tip of my index finger against the piece of glass in my hand until it started to pierce through each layer of callused skin. My eyes scanned the kitchen floor, past the island, and to the tall natural wood front door a few paces away.

“Your ignorance is fucking incredible, Daniel James!”

Her words were venomous, punctuated by the slam of the front door the moment we stepped back inside the house. I was still trying to put my wallet in my pocket after paying the taxi driver, showing exactly how quickly she decided to snap back at me after we already endured a terribly tense flight home. Yet, apparently a simple question of “are you okay” was completely disgusting of me to ask.

“You can’t just lose your temper like this every time you get a bit upset, Avalon. I’m just trying to talk to you.” I called as calmly as I could as I set my computer bag on the kitchen island.

She grabbed herself an empty glass from the cupboard and slammed the cabinet door shut before turning on the tap aggressively. Her brown eyes glared daggers in my direction over the rim of the glass as she raised it to her lips to take a sip, and the diamond ring on her left hand caught the light of the late evening setting sun coming in through the window. Flickers of orange light writhed on the marble countertop between us and died when she lowered her hand out of the incoming rays.

There was a moment of silence as the beginnings of this obvious inevitable fight lingered between us.

“We fought.” I breathed. “We had an argument that kinda blew up.”

“Okay.” Jonah answered plainly, watching me crouched there stewing in my mind.

I bit at my bottom lip as I tried to wrack my brain for any other snippets of memory.

“She didn’t talk to me all day…the whole flight home.” I whispered, eyebrows furrowing deeper as the faint hints of memory flicked through my mind. “She was angry at me…and we had an argument and we yelled and…”

I rubbed my hand over my forehead as the splitting pain was lessened to a dull throb, but my head still ached, especially while straining to think of something that I didn’t remember.

“I think we really went at it…I…”

“What was she mad about?” Jonah knelt down to help clean up the broken pieces of glass.

The gentle tinkle of the shards falling together in our palms as we collected them rang at the forefront of my mind. I could hear her soft gasp as the glass slipped from her hand and fell to shatters on the ground.

I cleared my throat, “Work…I think.”

Jonah’s eyes raised to me, “You never liked when she brought up our job in arguments. You’ve told me that plenty.”

“Yeah.” I said.

I paused a moment before getting up from the ground and I tossed the broken glass into the garbage. Jonah did the same after me.

“Do you think that was the final straw?” Jonah asked gently.

I leaned my hands on the island countertop with a sigh and then turned my head to look at him, “Bro, honestly, I don’t know. Why would I…why would I kill her?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.” Jonah said softly.

“We just got married, Jo. Why would I…I couldn’t have…” I mumbled. “I loved her.”

“Yeah, you loved her. And yet she never seemed to accept your status in society.” Jonah stated.

“Status in society.” I scoffed, turning around to lean back against the counter. “Yeah, right. You open a well-known recording studio and suddenly all of fucking Los Angeles thinks you’re a celebrity. Avalon always hated that side of it.”

“I know she did. You came to me pissed about it more often that either of us would have liked to admit.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to see a text from my brother,

Hello?? You said you would text me when you landed and I haven’t heard from you. Where are you?

“Who’s that?” Jonah asked.

“Christian.” I answered flatly as I scrolled up in the conversation thread to see a few other texts from him since the time the plane landed, asking where I was. They were all unanswered. Why didn’t I answer him?

“My brother always told me you were too fucking weak to be my wife…couldn’t handle the baggage that comes with the job.”

“Leave Christian out of this. He doesn’t know bull-fucking-shit about us and especially not about me. Neither of you know how hard it is!”

“It’s not hard, Avalon! You sit here and look pretty and I buy you sparkly things! It’s not that fucking hard! You’re just being an obnoxious brat about everything, and you always have!”

I cleared my throat nervously as I stared at the unanswered texts from my older brother. He never particularly liked Avalon and that was obvious; when we were dating he had it in his head that she was a gold-digger and only with me for my money and once we got engaged he made a point to call her out on all the smallest things she did ‘wrong’. No one was good enough for me in his mind. At least she wasn’t.

If it wasn’t my job that Avalon and I argued about, it was Christian. I adored my older brother, but she had such a tense and weak relationship with him no matter how hard she tried to get him to even tolerate her. He was set in his ways that he would dislike her for as long as she lived. I loved him and he was my family so I would defend him and it would drive her up the walls batshit crazy. I’m not a perfect man, dear reader, and I don’t claim to be better than I am. I suppose I should have tried to take her side once in a while. She was the love of my life after all, wasn’t she?

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @sexyseavey15

#🔪#daniel seavey #jonah marais #why dont we #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we fanfic #why dont we music #daniel seavey fanfic

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hellisheuphoria · 4 years ago

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Chapter 5: Withdrawn.

The MC skips class, and runs into problems soon after.

[This chapter contains scenes describing blood, wounds, stitching and vivid dreams, so read at your own risk. And thank you for reading <3]

You did not know if your eyes were open, swirling darkness blinding you everywhere you looked. The air was frosty and cold, chilling you to your very bones.

It was silent, but muffled. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing could be heard. The silence engulfed you, lulling you to a sinister lullaby.

The darkness pierced your skin, biting you with its horrible, sharp claws. Black ink swirled through your skin like a tattoo, slowly spreading through your body.

You could breathe it in, you could feel the ink choke you from the inside and drown you slowly, filling your lungs with a feeling of desperation as you clawed at your chest for air.

It trickled down your hair, turning it into a beautifully menacing black. It was intoxicating you, a corrupt pleasure you’d felt like no other.

It whispered in your ears, muttering a mad gibberish than you could not understand. Its whispers echoed in your ears, bouncing and ringing on and off. It all merged into one, deafening your ears.

You could taste it. It tasted like deep mourning, melancholy, the feeling of hopelessness and anguish. A pure lamentation.

Everything came to a still, yet you could feel a presence behind you, frost nipping at your skin as the hair on the back of your neck stood at its end.

You could breathe, but it did not satisfy you. You could breathe, yet it poisoned your insides.

You could breathe, but you were dying.

His eyes were dark and soulless, filled with emptiness and sorrow of a malicious kind.

His arms wrapped themselves around you, bringing your bodies together as dread coursed through your icy veins, your body unwilling to move.

His hands found themselves wrapped around your neck, slithering around you like a noose.

”Oh, my dear, sweet MC...” His lips curled into a venomous smile, the whispers ringing in your ears like alarms, the volume increasing by the second.

”It’s too bad that I hate humans, you see.” He closed his eyes, relishing the aroma of fear dancing around the both of you.

”Otherwise, we may have gotten along quite well.” His claws dug into your neck, your body limp against his.

The only thing you could see was the glow of his eyes, crinkled with the pleasure of watching you die, unable to move and unable to speak.

Before the world melted away, and your soul ceased to exist in such a transparent, spurious world.

———————————————————————

”MC-“ A hand swatted at your shoulder, shaking you from your spot on the sofa.

”MC! Wake up!” You slapped away whoever it was standing over you, refusing to open your eyes.

Suddenly, a rush of cold water slid down your neck and you jumped forward, shivering in shock.

Luke stood over your form, looking guilty and holding an empty cup. He was already dressed in his usual attire, beret and all. You stared at him, and he nervously looked away from you.

”Uh, MC! I’m sorry, but- but you were gonna be late if you didn’t wake up, and I don’t want you to be late so I had to throw water at you.. It wasn’t a lot though! Just a-“

You hushed him, putting a finger to his lips in your drowsy state. “Luke, I understand. Just, let me relax for a bit. I can run to school, we’re at the dormitories anyway.”

He nodded his head vigorously in response, still feeling guilty for his method of awakening you.

”Uh, MC..” You turned your head toward him, eyes droopy.

“I- I’m so sorry I didn’t help you last night! I thought you wanted some space to yourself, and I thought it was the right choice!”

He rambled on, ”I could hear you crying, but I didn’t come to help you, I’m really, really sorry! It was selfish of me, I’m sorry, MC!” He exclaimed, looking down and avoiding your gaze as you stared at him in confusion..

”Wait, crying? Luke, I don’t remember crying last night. I went straight to bed. At least- I don’t remember crying.” His eyes widened, clearly as muddled as you were.

”But, I could- I could hear you crying. Look, there are tear marks on your pillow right there!” Your head snapped to where your head had just been resting a few minutes ago. If you looked close enough, there were really tear stains.

Your fingers unconsciously brushed your cheeks as you looked back at Luke, who stared at you in bewilderment as you had done the same.

Perhaps, these dreams were getting out of hand.

———————————————————————

“MC, will you really be going to school without your uniform on? Won’t you just get sent back?” Simeon spoke, his beautiful eyes staring back at yours.

”Yeah. Either I go, or don’t go. I’m pretty sure that everyone would rather I go.” You nonchalantly replied, glancing at the mirror as you fixed your hair.

”Hey, how about you guys go on to school without me? I might take long, due to, uh, getting ready...? You know, I still gotta look decent. ” You tried your best to act as casual as you could, and hoped he’d fall for the trick.

He sighed and smiled at you, “Okay, we’ll see you at school, alright? Don’t take too long.”

You were relieved he took the bait, otherwise you would have really had to go to school. Who could be asked to go, knowing that there would be a whole bunch of drama waiting for them? Certainly not you.

You heard the groups footsteps become more quiet and quieter, until they couldn’t be heard at all. You silently opened the door and stuck your head out, looking at both sides of the hallway.

You then closed the door and sighed in relief, standing by yourself in Luke’s dorm. He wouldn’t mind, would he? You needed this day for yourself, no questions asked.

You opened the door and then locked it with the spare key Luke handed to you, and took off in the other direction, set on going back to the House of Lamentation to collect your things.

———————————————————————

The floorboards creaked as you silently stepped into the house, closing the door behind you and attempting to try your best at staying as unnoticed as possible, like a mouse.

Nothing could be heard except for the pitter- patter your feet made as they stepped on the floorboards, but you still kept on trying your best to keep them as short and silent.

You opened the door of your room, rushing in there as fast as you could and shutting the door. Everything was in its same place as you had left it last night, your bed unmade and your clothes in heaps of piles everywhere.

You quickly gathered your school clothes, your laptop, essential items and other things you would need. You didn’t plan on staying here for a little bit, maybe a few weeks. You could probably couch-surf between dorms. If they let you, of course. If they didn’t, you always could just roam around for a little bit, pulling all-nighters or sleeping on benches.

The minute your grabbed your laptop, the shelf above it collapsed and fell, causing a huge ruckus. Your froze and your breath ceased, flower pots fell from the shelf and broke, the shards cutting the back of your hand.

You winced and pulled it back, wiping the blood on your shirt, and trying to press on it. It still bled quite heavily, and it looked as though you would need stitches, but you were no professional.

Something ran across the hallway, making their way towards your room, you closed your eyes instinctively, facing the other way when they opened the door, panting.

”MAMMON! What the hell-“

Levi burst into the room, his phone in one hand and a violent aura being emitted off him.

”Wait, you’re not Mammon! You’re MC!” He gasped, out of breath.

”I thought Mammon was in here stealing your things, what are you doing here? Didn’t you run away?” He eyed the bag in your hand, full of your belongings.

”Oh..” His eyes darkened, an envious tone surfacing in his voice.

”So you’ve ditched us, huh?” He grabbed your injured hand and pulled you closer, hurt and betrayal swirling in his eyes.

”MC..” He noticed your pained expression and looked down at both of your hands intertwined, feeling the blood ooze out of your wounds, a horrible contrast to his pale skin.

He looked back at your desk where broken flower pots lay, shattered into fragments.

”Oh, MC! We have a medical kit in the kitchen- follow me there!”

He ran off to the kitchen, with you trailing not too far behind. He grabbed a small kit off the top of the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out surgical thread and a needle. You winced at the sight of it.

”I’ve done this before- it’s a story for another time- but it might hurt for you because you’re human. I’ll try my best, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

Blood was beginning to drip into the table, and so you tied your best to stay still as he disinfected it, trying to wash off the blood at the same time.

When he pierced your skin with the needle, you hissed in pain- and Levi anxiously went red, panicking that he was being too rough. When he finished, he bandaged it and packed up, hiding the evidence that someone had been injured.

”Levi?” He turned towards you, humming in response.

”I’m sorry for getting blood on you, if you want, you can change and I’ll wait.” He looked down, noticing the blood on his shirt, but then also noticed the blood on yours, too. He raised an eyebrow jokingly.

”Oh, right- I have to change too, haha.” You smiled in response, relieved he wasn’t treating you any differently.

You went to your room and Levi went to his. There was still broken fragments everywhere, so you would need to be careful. Especially of your hand, too.

You changed out of your bloody clothes, tossing them to the side onto the pile of your dirty laundry. You then noticed the bag sitting untouched on your chair and picked it up, retrieving your laptop and placing it inside of your bag.

You heard him come inside of your room and close the door, walking behind you. You hummed and slung the bag over your shoulders, finally turning around.

”Oh--“ Your words died in your mouth before you spoke, recognising the person in front of you.

Belphegor.

He stood in front of you, his tall figure looming over you and his usual frown on his gorgeous, yet evil face.

”MC,” he smiled in relief, yet still looking tired and drowsy. “We looked for you for so long.”

You shifted anxiously, your eyes darting everywhere but on him. “I-I know. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you guys.” You meekly responded, feeling intimidated by his figure.

He noticed the bag in your hands and his expression soured within less than a second.

”MC.” His voice willed you to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

”You’re leaving?” He looked so hurt, so vulnerable, his eyes glistening with crushed hope, his bottom lip trembling with sadness.

His eyes hooked onto yours, the world being zoned out as you could feel yourself being pulled in, your mind in a drowsy state as your body took a life of its own, unwilling to obey your commands.

”Belphegor...” you whispered out his name in a weak tone, feeling ever so sorry for him. You didn’t realise it, but you were falling deeper into his spell, sin ravaging his aura as he willed you to close in on him and forget your childish tantrum so you wouldn’t leave him behind.

Levi’s voice cut through the air as he crashed inside, holding his phone in the air with a worrying expression.

”MC, they’re on their way here!”

Belphegor and you separated as Levi jumped in, practically bouncing with energy as he yelled.

”Levi, Belphegor,” you worriedly spoke up, grabbing both of their attention.

”I need your help to hide me.”

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malfoys-demigod · 4 years ago

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Third Time’s a Charm - Tim Drake x Reader

A/N: This is set in the YJverse and you’re Batgirl since Barbara is now Oracle

Summary: M’gann and Conner attemp to play matchmaker on you and Tim Drake.

The weekend at Mount Justice was awfully colorless. No missions, no plans, no fun for everyone. Everyone who had a significant other were lucky enough to spend time with each other, making things seem less lifeless at the Cave. Artemis was teaching Wally to shoot, Dick was constantly flirting with Oracle, Beast boy was out with Perdita, and so on. The rest who didn’t have significant others decided to entertain each other, playing games.

For M’gann and Conner, being a motherly and fatherly figure, stood beside each other against the kitchen countertop, watching everyone get along with each other, with big heart eyes. That’s until she spotted two certain people alone.

You were listening to your favorite music on your headphones as you stared at the window, looking at the magnificent view of Happy Harbour.

Tim on the other hand was just on the couch, watching videos on his laptop while holding a coffee mug on his left hand.

M’gann, bored out of her mind, noticed something between you and Tim. She whispered to Conner point at you two, “Is it me, or is Tim and Y/N the only people in this cave single?” Conner looked at M’gann disbelief, not realizing that as well. “Oh yeah. I can’t believe I failed to see this. It’s funny how they grew up together in Wayne Manor but barely talk to each other.”

The truth was, you and Tim weren’t exactly close. You both exchanged a couple of words throughout the day, but both of you were are always too focused on either your jobs or yourselves when you had nothing to do. Back at Wayne Manor, Tim spent his time being the best student in Gotham Academy while you spent your time being the best in your extra curriculars, such as being the captain of a varsity.

Of course M’gann, wanting to play matchmaker, proposed the idea to Conner, “They have potential chemistry together. I say we play matchmaker and bring them together.” Connor looked at his girlfriend with a silly face, “You’re really bored, aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll only take three steps for them to fall for each other.” M’gann said with a mischevious smile.

1. Friday night at the fair

After M’gann making Tim ride with you in every ride possible, Conner whistles for Tim to look up, “Hey Drake, come over here.”

Tim walks over with both hands on his pockets, “What’s up Conner?”

Conner pulls out a wallet from his back pocket and holds 20 dollars in the air. “This should be enough for you to buy yourself some a large cotton candy.” Tim shakes his head and returns the money, “Thanks but I’m alright.” Conner pushes back the money to Tim with a serious look, “I insist. Go. Buy. Youself. Cotton. Candy. Now.” Tim nods, and walks away terrified.

You just came back from the bathroom after fixing your hair when you saw Tim holding a huge stick of cotton candy. Your eyes widened and you ran quickly to him, jumping up and down. “TIM, can I have a piece? Please, please, please??”

Tim not caring about the cotton candy gave everything to you. “Uh, you can take the whole thing.” he sheepishly smiled.

“AH THANK YOU!” you bursted with joy.

“Knock yourself out, Y/L/N.” he scratched the back of his neck and chuckled.

As you happily savored the taste of the cotton candy, all Tim could see was you and the background lights of the carnival at night. His eyes were focused on you. The way you smiled with a satisfied sound as you ripped small pieces of the cotton candy, piece by piece. This is where he started to take more notice of you. He tried to look away as you took notice of his staring. You smiled and motioned for him to take a piece and he did, just a little so you could have it all. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“No thank you, we wouldn’t have had this if you didn’t have bought it.” you smiled innocently.

Tim thought, ‘I guess I have to thank Conner for lending me the money.’

Then as he looked around for Conner, he failed to find him but luckily saw a carnvial game stand. The particular one where you have to shoot all those plates with one try without missing a single plate.

He noticed that nobody was lining up for it so he grabbed your hand and ran towards it, causing both of you to blush.

“Where are we going, Tim?”

“How about I win you a prize?”

As you both stopped, you saw the booth in front of you. “Tim, you sure you can do this?”

He scoffed, “Have faith in me, Y/N. I’m getting you the biggest prize they have to offer.”

Thanks to Jason teaching him a few tricks, Tim successfully shot down all the plates with one try, making you gasp in excitement. “Oh my gosh, Tim! What’s the prize! What’s the prize!” you jump up and down.

The person in charge of the booth handed Tim the biggest stuff animal, coincidentally your favorite animal, and 100 bucks!

As Tim lovingly gave you the stuffed animal, you spotted the 100 bucks, “What are we going to do with the money?” you shot Tim a curious look.

Tim thought of a brilliant idea. “Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/N?” waving the money.

“I’d love to, Tim.” you blushed.

M’gann and Conner were just behind the booth, thanking the person in charge for handing their money to Tim as they knew he’d win.

“Can’t believe this is happening.” M’gann hugged Conner. “It’s going all so well, Conner!!”

“Can’t believe he hasn’t gave me back the change for the cotton candy.” he joked.

2. SaturDATE

Tim’s lunch date was such a Tim thing. He brought you to a coffee shop, but like one of those hipster coffee places where everything looked so colorful and vibrant.

As you walked in, you gave him a curious look. “I know you’re a coffee guy but I expected the shops you’d visit frequently to be more dark and casual.”

“I wanted a change for today. Besides, this place reminds me of you. Colorful and vibrant.” he smirked.

This day just got better and better by the minute. The both of you learned so much about each other as you started tackling simple questions to the deepest ones you could get to.

“I regret learning more about you at such a late age, Tim! Who knew we had so much in common.” you said with doubtfulness.

Tim sighed, “I totally agree. I could imgaine us right now as best of friends at Wayne Manor, staying up all night, watching movies together, and basically doing everything together.”

“Believe me, I feel the exact same way. I tried doing these things with Dick, Jay and even Damian but it never felt right.”

The two of you had so much fun that day that you were there from noon to evening, not even realizing that you both had a big mission the next day.

It was 10pm and the both of you got voice messages from Dick and Conner saying, “Hey love birds, it’s nice to see you finally bonding but we have a big mission tomorrow. I expect to see you both at the cave in 10 minutes.”

The both of you checked the clock and laughed at how neither of you knew it was getting SUPER late. “Well, we better get going.” Tim said as he held out his hand for you to stand up from the bean bags you sat on.

3. Sunday madness

Klarion, the witch boy, posed as Tempest and stole the remaining fragments of the stature, needing to resurrect Tiamat from Aquagirl. He made his escape through a portal, but was followed by Tula.

Beta Squad, led by Nightwing, arrived on the scene in the Sacred Well of Marduk’s Temple. But Klarion threw the reconstructed statue into the pool which caused a giant water snake to come out.

Klation blasted the water snake, knocking the tablet of Destiny which was bound to Tiamat ran off with it. Klarion chased after it, leaving the heroes to fight the water-snake form of Tiamat.

The watersnake knocked you out, leaving you unconcsious. Tim saw this and yelled, “Y/N!” He ran towards your body, checking for a heartbeat which he heard, sighing in relief. He stayed with you the whole time from when Aqualad came out from another room, saying the mission ended because the tablet was destroyed and Klarion escaped, to bringing you to the Cave, waiting for you to wake up.

After a few hours, your eyes started to open slowly. You were about to stand up until someone stopped you. “Hey, it’s okay. Just lay down for awhile, you still have a concussion.” a familiar voice said.

It was Tim. He smiled and stroked your cheeks with his thumbs. “Why don’t I get you some water?”

“How about some coffee from that hipster place?” you weakly laughed.

“I don’t want to be too far from you. I hope my coffee here will do.” he stood up and left the room when M’gann, Conner, and Dick came in.

“Hey kiddo, how ya feeling?” Dick sat on your bed.

“Better, especially that my favorite brother is here.” you said with a big smile. Dick playfully looked back hoping Tim wasn’t there to hear that, “You’re lucky Tim didn’t hear that! You would have broken his heart!!!” he whisper shouted.

M’gann stepped forward, “He wouldn’t have been hurt by that. She sees him as something else, don’t you Y/N.”

Before you could answer, Tim popped in with 2 mugs of coffee in his hands. “I hope she does because I see her as something else.” You blushed as you took a mug from him and kissed him. “I hope that answers it.”

Before Tim could kiss you back, Dick pushed Connor and M’gann out, “Let’s give these two some privacy, after all they already have a room.”

Dick crossed his arms and chuckled at M’gann and Conner. “I’m so disappointed in you two.” which made that look at each other with a confused look.

“How come? The both of us managed to make them fall for each other!” M’gann said.

Dick jumped in annoyance, “Don’t you see? ‘The both of us?’ YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME BE PART OF YOUR MATCHMAKING THING! I COULD HAVE HELPED A LOT! IT’S NOT FAIR! I SHOULD HAVE CONTRIBUTED TO MY ADOPTIVE SIBLING’S RELATIONSHIP!”

Connor patted Dick on the back, “Okay you can plan out their wedding all by yourself. In fact, your whole family can deal with the expenses while we sit back and relax.”

“FINE.”

#young justice #tim drake x reader #tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake imagines #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin #red robin imagines #red robin x reader #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #red robin imagine #dick grayson #m'gann #superboy

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alexlabhont · 4 years ago

Text

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter Eight.

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing: Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

Tags: @dopeyouth @theymakemegayer @save-me-the-last-dance @poppysmc (If anyone want to be tagged in, just tell me)

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i’m sorry fo the grammar errors

CHAPTERS

Chapter seven

ONE-SHOTS

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

——————————————————————

When Poppy told that guy to send a pic of her and Farmsville kissing to The T, she wasn't trying anything but to declare a message, to make clear to everyone in Belvoire, especially to that Wonder Warden Wade of theirs, one little thing: Beck was hers now.

But no.

As usual, things with Beck were completely out of her control, whenever Poppy did zig, somehow Beck always managed to do zag. And this time "Zag" were lots of photos where Beck was hanging out, laughing and even hugging Zoey Wade. Sharing classes, walking side by side. Being together.

Students were talking, The T was speculating. That girl’s happy face making fun of her right from inside the photos and that stupid threat of hers didn’t. Leave. Her. Mind! That New Money was winning, and there it was just one person to blame: Beck Hughes.

So when she finally saw them in the hallway, she was decided to tear them down for good, hiding behind her reputation, behind a failed plan, when she knew deep down herself that she was mad for something else… Sometime hurtful…

But it all went down to shit when what she saw a few seconds later was Beck’s back hitting hard against the wall, and that stupid animal grabbing them by the clothes. For a moment, she completely forgot how to breathe, a loud gasp taking all the air in her lungs, and the pain and rage clutched her heart with such a lightning force and speed that Poppy couldn’t understand; all she knew was she couldn't stop looking at the scene, wanting so badly to be in the middle just to kick his balls so hard that they'll stop working forever. The strawberry blonde really tried to end the fight sooner, but that bunch of assholes that Belvoire had as students started to stand around as disgusting moths, hungry for a fight, so the last thing Poppy saw of the attack for a moment were Beck’s smile and then the pain written all over their face.

And that was it.

She could feel her blood boiling, something weird taking over her body. She was familiar to this feeling, the blonde felt it each time Farmsville proved to be a pain in her ass… but this one's was stronger, deeper, and incontrollable. Her nails were eager to meet Carleton's face until nobody could recognize him ever again. But when she finally got there it was Beck who was doing her job, smashing their fists against his face over and over, growling each time. A quick twist.

Naturally, that bastard was expelled latter that day, everyone totally noticed it because… well… she had her ways. And although it was one less problem without him, that didn’t make up for Beck’s rib.

Yes, she literally dragged them to the hospital to get that X-ray, what was that I'm-Tough-I'm-fine shit? Who were them? Rambo? Beck had that stupid frown through all the way, like a spoiled baby, but it didn't matter, because now everyone was sure that Beck didn't have a broken rib. They were fine.

“Told you.”

“I don't fucking care, Hughes. Now hold that tongue of yours, would you?” The silence she asked for only lasted two seconds.

“You know I told you.”

“Oh, my god. What are you, five?” she rolled her eyes quickly. “Why are you so mad about it anyways? Of course I needed to know if you were ok!”

“I told you I was fine!”

“You’re not a fucking doctor!” Neither of them giving a shit about the driver hearing the conversation. “You don't have anything to prove when it comes to your health!”

She said, why it was not basic information? Why was it something so hard to swallow?

“Poppy?” God, this one just won't stop, right?

“What now?” The blonde didn't even bother to look at them, focusing her attention to what was outside the window.

“You’re right.” Wait what? “I shouldn't be upset about it. After all... You were just taking care of me, so… Thank you.”

Poppy will never admit it to anyone… but that weird but honest and beautiful smile she received made her tremble a little~ bit. Just a little bit. It was kind of like seeing them for the very first time, discover them, a fraction of their very own core shown to her…

But anyways

Right after that, just right after all she did, after that fucking day Poppy hadn't heard a word from that bastard.

So all Belvoire may be asking themselves: what was doing the great, the beautiful, the one and only queen Poppy Min-Sinclair walking through the campus with a fruit tree in hands? Obviously not her hands, an employee's hands, but whatever. Same thing.

Well, the answer was simple: Nobody, and that’s nobody…, could ignore her. No one. Poppy can and do ignore people, but be ignored? Hell, no. She hadn't seen Beck in school neither, no text messages, no social media updates, nor shit, so she was going to pay them a visit, giving them something that surely will make them to never forget about her.

So yeah, a fruit tree. That was an acceptable get well gift, right?

Poppy knocked at Beck's place, waiting, of course, for a quick answer… and waiting, and waiting… and waiting.

“Ms. Min-Sinclair…” shyly spoke that man whoever he was. “Can I put the tree down for a second?”

“No.” Maybe if it were any other time the guy could do it, but not today. Today, when she was going to deliver it personally. Today, when she was giving one of the very few gifts meant from her kind spot. Today, when she was getting angrier and angrier because she hated to wait.

She knocked again. Harder this time, but the results were just the same. And that's when something weird started to happen. Yes, she was still angry, but a stitch-like feeling started to grow inside her. She knew for a fact that Beck was in there, the doctor was clear: They needed to rest and there it was no absolutely way Zoey would let them do anything else. So they had to be there.

“Maybe they're taking a nap or something. Nothing weird, right?” She thought while her eyes wandered through the hall, searching for some magic and very hidden way to get inside the dorm. Because maybe… maybe… they weren’t sleeping.

“No. They’re fine! They’re just doing something stupid like playing the ukulele or whatever musicians do.” Her mind chuckled a little, if she could joke about it, then there it was nothing bad going on… But it didn't work quite well. She was starting to feel preoccupied.

“Er… excuse me?” Poppy turned, a deadly, cold, scary glare piercing that poor bastard's self so hard as the blonde knew she was capable of, making him tremble. It would've been funny if it wasn't for the situation.

“You have exactly two seconds to tell me why anything you have to say is relevant or I'll fire you. Starting now.”

“There’s some guy behind that corner watching us for quite a while now.” The employee said, the strawberry blonde followed the man's sight direction, what kind of creep were stalking them? Seriously, fucking weirdo.

To her fortune in at least this case, Poppy recognized that nerdy, greasy hair guy above a pair of glasses and a suspicious look behind them. Ew, Benji What’s-his-name. Well… desperate times call for desperate measures…

“Hey you!” Poppy called him as demanding as only someone like her could be. “Come closer.”

“W-why?” He asked, reserved.

“Because you’re last place and I basically command you. So stop talking and get your pimpled ass over here.” The guy walked towards them, looking hurt, angry maybe, but who cares? It wasn't her fault he was a looser that nobody cared about. Eat or be eaten, there’s people in this world with the potential to be a force of nature, and there it was people like Benji as well. They’re just there to be used. “I need you to open this door for me. ASAP.”

“What?! But that's against the dorm's ru…!”

“Excuse me, do I look like I care?” Poppy was pretty close to lose her patience completely, but she managed to behave a little, after all he was right. If they get caught, most likely the problems would arrive sooner than later. “Just do it and you're free to leave. Nobody’s gonna know.”

“God, they’re gonna know…” he whispered, playing with his own fingers, making then crack. “But let’s make this quick, ok?”

“That is so what I actually asked you to do, you dumbass.”

Benji looked around like if he was about to rob a bank or something, Poppy rolled her eyes at this, tapping her foot to try and give him pressure to do the job in that instant; the only “big move” he did was swiping his master key on the door, then nudged it open with his foot.

“See? It wasn’t that hard, wasn’t it?” Poppy said, not even looking at Benji. “Now disappear before someone see us talking.”

The strawberry blonde didn't even know if Benji did go away or not, she just went straight into Beck's bedroom, opening the door of the first room she saw.

Bingo.

Beck was sitting on their bed, their laptop over their lap; a pair of big, black professional headphones covering their ears and little Fran--- Pepes comfortably sleeping, snugging next to Beck’s feet. When they saw her, their eyes went wide, taking off the headphones completely surprised and confused, a what's going on written all over their face, especially when the employee came along with her gift.

“Poppy? What the…? How the hell did you…?”

“Shht.” She didn't let them finish, chuckled a little of the incredulous expression they had. The reality was that, now that she knew Beck was ok…, she was… weirdly relieved… and pissed, but that's something she could deal with latter. “I want you to place the tree over there… next to the window… perfect! That would be all. You're no longer required.”

The employee left the room almost immediately, the sound of the principal door closing was the only indication that both of them were completely alone.

“Well… are you going to tell me now what are you doing here or not?” Beck spoke.

“I was just passing by and suddenly I wanted to come. Why? Is there a problem?”

“And what's with the tree?”

“It’s a get-well gift from yours truly.” Poppy shooted a playful wink, receiving a flicker of their eyes, disbelieving.

“A tree?”

“It’s a fruit tree.”

“Right…” Beck said, sarcastic painting their voice as they put their headphones around their neck, placing their attention on the screen once again. Like… hello? Poppy was right there!

“I was knocking for a long time out there. Where are your manners? Did you leave them in the farm?” She joked trying to make them mad, while petting Pepes softly, who kept sleeping as if nothing happened right after opening one eye and closing it again.

“No, sorry. I didn’t hear you… How did you get in?”

“I have my ways.”

“Gosh, that’s so messed up…” Beck murmured, their gaze still on the laptop.

“Seriously? That’s it?”

Feeling like a fool, Poppy clenched her teeth. She was waiting for Beck to do something, to look at her again, to ask her to leave, anything! But no, they kept tapping and clicking while biting the insides of their cheeks.

“Jesus, Hughes!” tired, Poppy walked towards them and took drastically their notebook away...

“Hey!”

… and replaced it with herself, sitting over Beck’s lap trying not to hurt their rib. They were warm, pajamas still on, messy hair and even though the bed was made, you could tell they hadn’t gotten up from there in a while.

“Give me that back…” The determination was in their eyes, but Poppy knew better. She knew for a fact they didn’t want her to obey. Their hands around her waist, the whisper in which they were talking and that dork yet attractive smile on their lips were telling otherwise.

“No.” She said. “I came all~ the way here just to see you. The least thing you could do is give your full attention to me.” Poppy demanded.

“I thought you were just passing by.” Beck said, a mocking grin lighting up their face.

“Just shut up already.” She said, causing them to laugh a little.

“Make me.”

Oh… that’s new.

But she was happy to oblige, so she kissed them. A spicy, hot kiss where her lips and her tongue played with theirs, trying to take control, to make them forget about the whole world, their own name, and focus on her taste, her touch on their neck, her fingers caressing their skin, traveling down, discovering Beck’s clavicles… but it was hard, because she wasn’t the only one trying to take over the other one… Beck was doing it so as well, so how could Poppy concentrate if she could feel the warm moves of the tip of their fingers tracing an intense map on her back, that she could almost feel as if it was on her bare skin? How can she prove herself superior when Beck’s slow bites in her mouth, savoring her, burned so good?

“How are you feeling, Tushi-face?” Poppy murmured, ending the moment just before she completely loses control. This was still a plan, and the blonde always had to be the one who they can’t live without. She needed them to be hopelessly devoted to her to make it work, not the other way around. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Nor a little bit.” Beck took a deep breath, regaining their lost air. But there it was: that lamb face. “I was just trying to pick a good song for an audition.”

“Audition? To what?”

“A metal band. You know, some… stuff.” Poppy frowned, why would them wanted to be on a band? Beck had recognition on their own, fans all over Belvoire and, she can surely bet, even New York. Beck didn’t need anyone else, that’s why she had choose him. Because she knew the potential they had alone. Together… they both would be the power couple of the entire school… and, with her guidance, even more than that.

“Why would you do that?” Poppy asked. Beck responded with a shrug.

“I don’t know. Sounds fun. Besides, there is going to be a battle of bands and I want so badly to show them who's the boss...”

That’s when Poppy saw it for the very first time. The spark on their eyes made of ambition, confidence… arrogance.

“I see…”

All this time, she thought Beck was one of those people that just were going with the flow. A diamond in the rough who couldn't see its real potential… But she was wrong all along… There were more on Beck than they show, and she just figured it out a little more. The music was the answer all this time. She should've seen it before.

“Uhm… Ok. Just pick a song that reminds you of me.” Beck cracked a chuckle, letting their mind wandering thought their music repertoire.

“Oh, I think I have one.” They suddenly said with a playful grin on their face. “I’m sour candy … so sweet then I get a little angry, yeah… Sour candy, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

“Seriously, Hughes? Blackpink?” They didn't care, they even closed their eyes and kept on singing, dancing their arms in a funny, annoying way.

“I'm super psycho, make you crazy when I turn the lights low… sour candy… yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

That was it. Two can play the game just fine.

“Ask me to be nice and then I’ll do it extra mean… tteutbakke pyojeong hanae neon danghwanghagetji...” Poppy sang suddenly, surprising Beck so hard that she couldn’t help but laugh a lot because of their face. “Oh, honey… let me close that for you.” The strawberry blonde used her hand to gentle taking their jaw up. God, how can they be so cute while being dumb?

“You speak Korean?!”

“What kinda question is that? Do you actually know what the Min on Min-Sinclair means?”

“I-I mean, yeah. I just didn't want to assume… what does it mean? That thing you sang?” The blonde raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you knew.” Beck shook his head, that surprised look still into their eyes, but now had a taste of interest and wonder… A chance that she didn't miss. “Well… it actually means this…” Slowly, like a panther hunting her prey, Poppy reach out for Beck's neck, pouring out sweet but dangerous kisses over their skin… Oh, their reactions… Beck sigh, shaking a little, their body was tense, but slowly begun to relax, enjoying the attentions.

Both of their hands started to touch Poppy's body, eager, needy, intensely. Beck's caressed burned more and more over her body to the point where the blonde couldn't take it anymore. She needed them to take her clothes off…

Beck kissed her lips hungrily, tasting her as if they were starving, gripping her hips while doing so. She grinded down on them, stealing a gasp from their lips in between the kisses, driving her mad. Poppy needed to touch them, to feel them, so she put her hands under their shirt, enjoying the burning skin of their actually hard abs… touching careful and slowly up, and up…

“No, Poppy, wait…” Beck suddenly said, nervous and sounding a little scared. Confused as fuck, Poppy moved a little away, shooting them a question-mark-look. What happened? She wanted so badly to ask, but the stupid door opened abruptly, an annoying voice right behind it.

“Beck, I'm home! I got you some soup…”

Zoey was literally in the house. The stupid look on her face when she realized what was happening make Poppy really angry.

“Fuck you, Wade. Don't you see we're in the middle of something?” Something clicked inside the girl, because her astonished expression chance in one second to an indignant one just before slapping the door.

“Shit…”

—-

#poppy x mc #queen b choices #choices #trans #ftm #malemc #queen b benji #poppy min sinclair #bea hughes #Beck Hughes #choices stories you play #choices poppy #choices queen b #choices queen b mc #mc x poppy #queen b

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cutie1365 · 5 years ago

Text

A Kid from Queens Part 17

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

Another restless night of tossing a turning, not knowing if you really slept or if time has passed, you found yourself reaching for your phone on the nightstand. Your eyes flitted to the time- 3:50 AM. You were about to groan and plop back onto the bed when your eyes journey down to another notification from an hour ago.

“Override 17A” it read, and right below it another one.

“Training Wheels Protocol Disabled”

“What the fuck?” You muttered out loud. 17A was Peter’s suit. Certainly your father wouldn’t have done this, which only left one explanation.

“He didn’t-” You stopped, almost in disbelief. Did he just hack your suit?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. where the hell is he?” you asked angrily, sitting up in bed.

“It appears the tracker has been removed from the suit, boss.” The AI informed you.

You threw the covers off of yourself and jumped out of bed.

“He better be dead, because if not I’m gonna kill him.” You huffed, moving to your desk and pulling open your laptop.

“Can you get me the last location he pinged?” You began pulling up the reports you had on his suit, to see if you could get any more information on what he’d been doing. It showed you a map of him bouncing around Queens and occasionally into the city. There was one last dot 200 miles away.

“A hotel in D.C.” F.R.I. said.

“Why wasn’t I informed the suit left the city?” You asked.

“Mr. Hogan was informed.” She said.

“When?” You shut the computer, turning back towards the middle of the room waiting for an answer.

“4:00 PM yesterday.” She informed you.

“What the hell is he doing in D.C.?” You asked yourself, “Get me Happy on the line.”

You had a bad feeling about this, did Peter disable the tracker himself? If he did, it meant he was going to do something he didn’t want any of you knowing about, likely meaning it’s dangerous.

“Are you sure? It is four in the morning.” She asked for confirmation.

“Call him.” You instructed, standing to pace the room.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Happy answered, his voice frantic. He knew you’d never call this early unless it was important.

“Where’s Peter?” You asked, the anger evident in your voice.

“The kid? He’s got a school trip in D.C? Why?” Happy asked, curiously.

“The suit’s tracker was disabled an hour ago, and some systems were changed without my authorization.” You tried to explain calmly.

“That’s not good.” Happy said, and you could almost feel his stress levels spike through the phone.

“Has he been giving you reports? Anything that could clue us into what he’s doing?” You asked, still pacing the room.

“He’s just been doing what he always does, helping old ladies, and bike thefts and muggings.” Happy shrugged.

“Shit. Ok, I’ll take care of it Hap.” You said, not wanting to stress Happy out even more.

You would have dug more to see if he knew anything, but in your pacings you figured a way into Peter’s suit. He may have disabled the tracker, but if the Training Wheels Protocols was deactivated that would mean his AI was now online. You should be able to enter through a backdoor in her system remotely.

After about half an hour you were able to get in, and although you wouldn’t be able to transmit anything you would be able to overhear any conversation between Peter and the AI. Hopefully that would tip you off to their location or what he’s planning.

“What is this place? Suit lady, where am I?” You heard Peter speaking, his voice transmitting through your computer.

“You’re in the most secure facility on the Eastern Seaboard. The Damage Control Deep Storage Vault.” His AI answered, casually.

“Son of a bitch.” You shook your head, jumping up and slamming your computer shut once more. Anger wasn’t the right word to describe what you’re feeling right now. Peter was meddling in something larger than himself, and he likely didn’t even know it. You didn’t want him to get killed.

Your dress pants were strewn over a chair in your room, they were closest so you grabbed them and a sweater and began to search for your keys. You knew the drive would take about 4 hours, it may be morning by then and you may miss him, but it was a chance you were willing to take. You couldn’t take the jet since it was upstate and you couldn’t get a pilot at this hour, with the Accords everyone was under such scrutiny that they couldn’t take you. If this had been years ago Steve or Clint would have gladly piloted last minute.

You did have one more option, but it was too risky. You hadn’t tested it enough, and certainly not for long distance flight stabilization. Plus your father would kill you if he found out you had made a suit prototype for yourself.

Once in the garage, you looked at the motorcycle next to your car. That could work... maybe shave an hour or two off of your trip by weaving in between cars and traffic. Though you’d almost certainly get pulled over and be slowed down even longer.

“Next time.” You glanced at the bike once more, as you climbed into the car and revved it up, praying you’d get there in time.

Once you were on the highway you put the car into autopilot, using your phone to connect to your remote desktop and back into his AI, to see if you could get any more clues as to what he was doing.

“Hey it’s like the glowy thing.” Peter spoke, excitement in his voice.

“That glowy thing is an explosive Chitauri energy core.” His AI, who you learned he named Karen, spoke very matter of factly.

“What!” You said out loud. “Peter Parker you’re so dead.” You groaned, flipping autopilot off, throwing your phone onto the seat next to you, and flooring it down the empty highway.

You were able to make the trip in three and a half hours, but you were too late. Peter was no longer at the facility. You had a worker let you into the deep storage vault, your name was practically on the door so authorization wasn’t an issue. You were thankful for grabbing nicer clothing though. You planned on looking for clues to where Peter ran off to, but you were distracted by a shipping container that had clearly been tampered with. This was something Peter couldn’t have done, nearly half of the items were missing. This had to have been the weapons dealings with the major.

You called in your FBI contacts to come investigate, and you were momentarily distracted and forgot about Peter, the whole reason you came here. You showed the agents the containers and the items missing, they must have been using the parts to make and sell weapons. They asked you questions about the protocols of this facility and shipments. When the venture between Stark Industries and the government was struck for this department, you’d read all the documents word for word, as your father was too bored to. Wasn’t really his area, paperwork. You answered their questions and discussed possible entries. A complete catalog of the other containers would have to be done and compared to the original records to see how much had been stolen, security would also have to be increased.

“Hang on.” Another agent to your right took a phone call that seemed important, “Where?” He said, concern evident in his voice. This caused everyone to look in his direction.

“Sir, we have an incident at the Washington Monument.” He turned to his boss saying.

“What kind of incident?” He asked, hands on his hips.

“Someone’s climbing it.” He said, in disbelief, the room went silent.

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath. That had to be Peter.

“Are we good here?” You turned to the agent who was your main contact and asked.

“Yeah, we’ll finish up here, see if we can get any prints.” He nodded, placing his hands on his hips as well, turning away from the rest of the group and dropping his voice slightly before continuing, “We’re getting intel on a possible rendezvous for a sale, we’ve got a guy posing as a buyer. We’ll let you know, we might need to use you as a distraction, but you’re free to go.”

You nodded, and tried to not look suspicious as you slowly rushed off to your car.

You drove as fast as you could, weaving in and out of traffic. As you got closer to the monument you saw D.C. Metro police helicopters circling. You hit the breaks as you saw fire trucks and ambulances surrounding the entrance. You put the car in park and stepped out, attempting to get a better view.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. what happened here?” You asked nervously.

“I’m sensing radiation from a Chitauri energy core detonation.” She spoke plainly.

“What? How the hell?” You walked closer to the scene, they were beginning to put up police tape.

“It appeared to be from inside the elevator.” She said.

“Is everyone ok?” You asked slowly.

“No casualties reported. Students inside the elevator were saved before it collapsed.” You now stood at the police tape, with a full view of the monument.

“Peter saved them?” You asked quietly, you could see the broken window at the very top, that must have been how he got in. He saved his friends, you really couldn’t be mad at him for that.

“Where are they now?” You slipped the sunglasses from the top of your head over your eyes, getting a view inside the monument at the crumbling elevator that would have meant certain death for all occupants if it weren’t for Peter.

“Their bus has departed and is heading back to Midtown, parents have been informed and sent to meet them.” The AI informed you.

“Is Peter on the bus?” You asked, worried.

“Traffic cameras confirm Peter Parker is on board.” She confirmed, and you hung your head in relief. You took one more look around the scene through your tech glasses as two firefighters moved to stand next to you.

“Shit’s crazy, five more seconds and those kids wouldn’t have made it.” They spoke to each other, and you quickly turned and rushed back to your car to make the trip back upstate. You knew what you had to do.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

It was dark when you finally arrived. You saw the bus with kids greeting their parents. They were milling about as a teacher was unloading luggage from the bus. You saw Peter leaning against the brick of the school building as May talked to other parents. Coming from around the corner behind him, you grabbed onto his arm and pulled him backwards, immediately wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug.

He remained frozen for a second, before recognizing your signature scent and hugging you back. You pulled away quickly, keeping your hands on the side of his arms as you scolded him.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You scolded.

“I-” He tried.

“You hacked my suit! You turned off the tracker.” You seethed.

“I-”

“I don’t know how you got into Damage Control, you tampered with federal property and a federal investigation.” You waved your hand in anger.

“I-” he tried once more.

“God Peter, I was so scared,” You hugged him again, “Don’t do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry.” He finally said, as you pulled away and he could see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“I can’t do this.” you admitted.

“Do what?” Peter asked, furrowing his brow.

“It’s been killing me, trying to stay away from you. I just- I want to be with you, I don’t care what happens.” You shook your head, letting a stray tear fall down your cheek.

“What about your father?” He asked, as his thumb gently came up to wipe the tear away.

“He’ll understand. The plan worked, we just have to be more careful.” You grabbed his hand to reassure him.

“You just can’t be seen with Spider-Man.” He nodded.

“But I can be seen with Peter Parker.” You smiled.

“What about Harley?” He asked, causing you to let go of his hand in surprise of the question.

“Harley? What about him?” You asked, confused.

“I thought you two were-” Peter began.

“Oh no, no. He’s a friend. He knows dad, it’s a long story. We’re hiring him.” You chuckled slightly.

“Oh.” Peter nodded, feeling dumb for assuming.

“Jealousy isn't a good look on you.” You teased.

“I just.” He shrugged, smiling and giving up. He laughed at his own assumption.

“Happy Birthday by the way, I’m sorry I missed it.” You said, it had killed you not being able to send him a message on the day almost two weeks ago now.

“That’s ok.” He smiled, taking your hand once more.

“I may know how I can make it up to you.” You smirked.

“How’s that?” He asked, knowing what it might be. You leaned in to kiss him, as you felt him smile into the kiss. You’d both missed this. Something just felt right whenever you were together.

You smiled as you pulled away to look at him in the moonlight, you stared into his eyes like it was the first time.

“I have a gala next week, come with me?” You asked, with a hopeful smile.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Peter raised a brow with the tilt of his head.

“Lucky for you, it has a masquerade theme.” You smiled.

“Lucky me.” He smirked, moving his fingers through your hair to the back of your head to pull you into a kiss once more. The both of you were so lost in the moment that you didn’t see someone coming around the corner.

“Peter? Oh-” Aunt May stopped as her eyes landed on the two of you. You quickly pulled apart, you could feel your cheeks begin to blush in embarrassment.

“Oh- uh, hi Ms. Parker.” You stuttered, your finger brushing your lip slightly before holding your hands behind your back.

“Hi Y/N.” She smirked, looking to Peter. She had known that he liked you, but she never expected to find the two of you like this.

“I should- probably- uh.” You pointed towards your car, looking back between Peter and May, nodding and taking a step towards the car.

“Y/N.” May called.

“Yes.” You turned back around with a smile.

“Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow?” She asked with a smile.

“Tomorrow?” You glanced at Peter, who’s eyes went wide in embarrassment, you smiled, “I’ll be there.” you nodded, you did owe him a raincheck.

As you turned and walked back towards the car you heard them whispering to each other, causing you to smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” May giggled to Peter.

“Shh... May.” Peter whined, causing her to giggle once more.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

Taglist in the reblog, link in my masterlist in my bio to join it

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cle1024 · 5 years ago

Text

save me, save you | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin

genre: angst, fluff

summary: getting involved with the mafia was certainly not something you aimed to do in life―it was something you would’ve gratefully avoided, you much preferred breathing and living peacefully. yet, somehow, meeting him made the danger worth it. mafia!au, gang!au, fem!reader

warnings: mentions of murder, violence, drugs, swearing

a/n: so uh,, i know nothing about saving someone’s life or fixing up a stab/bullet wound, and i also wasn’t taught much about human anatomy, so there WILL be inaccuracies in the medical scenes. i apologise in advance and i guess this is a cringe warning for anyone who is actually educated on those situations, i dropped out of science so can’t relate. i started this not long after miroh dropped i could just never be bothered to finish it until recently, but third hyunjin fanfic in a row here we come!!!!!!

There was no doubt in your mind that Felix Lee was your best friend and always had been.

The two of you grew up near one another, subsequently attending school together for the majority of your lives. It was the third day of school when the freckled boy approached you, tanned skin and dark hair, but a bright smile and sparkly eyes.

“My name is Felix, let’s be friends!”

“Okay.”

Life by Felix’s side was enjoyable, content. Life was normal. And so, when Felix broke the news that he was moving to South Korea, you were understandably devastated. Though, you knew how much it meant to Felix: getting more in touch with his culture, family, and pursuing his studies more seriously and competitively. Nonetheless, despite all the pain and upset you felt, you supported his decision and maintained contact with him.

That was six years ago when Felix left. Now, you’d both graduated from high school, Felix had acquired a stable job (that’s all he would tell you about it), and you were applying for an international studies program. You had no interest in the program initially, but your local universities had less than stellar resources for the course you wanted to study, and your teachers had constantly reassured that you were smart enough for a more prestigious institution elsewhere in the world. That and the fact the program meant your tuition would cost much less. You hadn’t expected to be accepted into the program, nor did you expect to receive a letter from the prestigious Seoul National University accepting your enrolment, yet you sat there with the printed letter in front of your awestruck face. It was only natural that you immediately text Felix—you told each other, almost, everything and he lived in Seoul, this could be the reunion you’d joked about when he first left.

| so i got accepted into seoul national university | but i don’t speak good korean | lix: LMAO ME NEITHER HOLY FUCK

Twelve months had passed since that message was sent. Your were almost fluent in speaking Korean, you much preferred just listening to it and speaking English with Felix. A sigh escaped your lips as you trudged to your apartment door, exhaustion racked your body from the unbearable demand of studying medical science. You tried to convince yourself it would pay off, but you weren’t certain yet. Perhaps when you sit your exams you’ll find out. Exams. Why did you have to think that up? It drew a small groan from your mouth as you shoved the key into your apartment door, prepared to fall face first into the couch and complain to the air. Though your desires could not be fulfilled. Sitting on the very couch you intended to fall into was Felix, twirling a swiss army knife twirl around his right fingers as he watched his phone intently. There was also a gun on the coffee table. Someone’s gun was on your coffee table. You had a lot running through your mind, many questions and minor concerns about why the fuck Felix had illicit weaponry in your house, but all you managed to say was, “oh.” The boy obviously hadn’t heard you come in, his head snapping up and his fingers halting their twirling. Looking in your eyes, he felt obligated to tell you everything.

“That means I’m, basically, part of the mafia,” he paused to lick his lips, “we don’t sell weapons to the wrong people or kill for money. It’s more about… corruption and the occasional cocaine,” he summed up gently. You could definitively say it was the wildest fucking thing Felix had ever said to you, and you’d had some pretty odd conversations at two in the morning. As far as you knew, his job was stable and high paying, but you didn’t know it was completely and utterly illegal. Most sane people would flip their shit in this situation, cut off ties with Felix and shove him—along with all his weapons—out of the apartment. You didn’t react that way, and you weren’t sure whether it was because you were far too open-minded or because you had slowly lost your mind over time and become desensitised to any sort of shocking news.

“Oh.”

Felix chewed on his lip as you processed the information, clasping and unclasping his hands. He prepared for the worst, but you simply shrugged, “okay.”

Felix was beyond bewildered, “y-you’re not mad? Or scared?” Your eyes softened at his questioning.

“Felix, why would I be mad? It’s your life, do whatever you want with it. Your job doesn’t change the fact you’re a freckled sook who cried when you made your ramen too spicy.”

“Okay, that was one time,” you laughed at his defensive expression and that was enough to break the facade completely. The two of you laughed for a little while until Felix’s face returned to a more serious expression, “Y/N, I promise you, you’re in no danger whatsoever. The golden rule in this district is to leave innocent people out of it, regardless of how much someone fucked you over. If anyone, and I mean anyone, does anything that alarms you or threatens you, you call me right away. Understand?”

A soft smile stretched across your face at his concern, “of course I will,” Felix breathed a sigh of relief. If anything happened to you, especially at the fault of his job, he’d never forgive himself. To him, family came before his own safety; you were his unbiological sibling and he would always protect you as best as he could.

It was all fine and dandy until someone broke that rule. Your eyes stung with exhaustion, the bright screen of your laptop glared at you as you tiredly read the words displayed on the screen. There was nothing you craved more at the moment than sleep; you seemed to be craving that a lot since you came to Korea. At first, you thought the distant sound of a doorknob being wobbled was one of your neighbours. It was a Friday night—or Saturday morning, you supposed—they’d probably gone out, got shit-faced and stumbled back home, having forgotten how to unlock a door. But then the noise stopped, a door squeaked open and was gently shut. You heard the door click back into place, and that’s when things started to feel off. It sounded too close to be next door—now that you thought about it, neither of your neighbours would even be out at this time. Perhaps it was Felix, he had often complained about how shitty the door to your apartment was. With a stretch of your arms and legs momentarily you pushed yourself from the bed, creeping towards your bedroom door. The cool metal of the doorknob brushed against your skin, seconds away from being opened when a series of crashes sounded from the small living room on the other side of the door. Felix may be clumsy, he may sit up too quickly and hit his head on tables, but he rarely managed to break anything in the process—if he did then the sound was followed with a string of English curses, but cuss words never came. You were starting to believe it was Felix. With all the courage you could muster, you opened the bedroom door and stood shocked at the scene in front of you. A vase lay broken on the floor—crash one. Your white sofa had been tipped backwards, the cushions scattered the floor. The coffee table had been overturned, candles left strewn on the floor. Your porcelain plate, which had previously sat by the sink, was attempting to escape the kitchen in hundreds of pieces—crash two. The wooden shelving unit diagonal to your bedroom had been tipped over, all your picture frames smashed into dangerous shards of glass—crash three. The chest of drawers near your bedroom door had been left untouched for the time being, a photo of you and Felix at seven years old perfectly intact. In the midst of chaos, a man stood with a black ski mask covering his face. All you could see where his ominous brown eyes, staring right back at you. It felt like you were staring into a dark pool, full of mystery yet devoid of emotion or sense of reality. It seemed to happen in an instant; one minute you were standing there in an intense stare off, the next you had been shoved against the wall of your living room right next to your bedroom door, your phone falling from your free hand in the process. His glove-clad hand wrapped securely around your throat, the pressure of his fingers increasing to cut off your air supply once and for all. You clawed at him, but you already knew it was no use. He was twice the size of you, had the upper hand, and had already weakened you significantly. You’d already accepted that you were destined to die at some point, everyone was, but you’d always secretly prayed that you’d get to say goodbye first. You didn’t want to leave without telling your parents you loved them, or telling your friends back home that they were some of the greatest people you’d ever met, or just saying a simple ‘cya’ to Felix, as you always did. Felix. The memory struck you like lightning as your vision started to spot slightly. When he confessed to you about his career, made that promise of protection, he had purposefully left something behind.

“Take this,” Felix said as he held the swiss army knife towards you.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“If you ever need to defend yourself and I can’t, for some reason, use it.”

You’d made the wise decision to hide it in your living room, behind that picture of you and Felix. If you could stretch your arm just a little further, you could grab the red covering. Your fingers strained as you held out for the weapon, head lifting up as your vision worsened. The sharp metal tickled at your fingers, causing you to desperately snatch the weapon up. You used all the coherence you had left, swiftly flicking the knife out of the plastic covering. Your vision was blurred, severely, and you could feel yourself losing consciousness. Just a little longer. With all the strength you could muster, you brought the blade upwards, taking no notice of where you stabbed him. A grunt left his lips, followed by some choked gasps. His hand unlatched from your neck to grab his own. You fell to your knees, wheezing for oxygen desperately, taking deep breaths as you coughed and gasped. Your eyes traveled downwards, catching sight of the red. There was blood all along the knife, staining your fingers. The man lay ahead of you on his back, blood spilling from his throat as he twitched and choked up the metallic substance. It was all over the floor around him. You could tell you’d caught an artery. In desperation, you tugged the purple hoodie from your shoulders, holding it against the man’s open neck wound. It seemed to get harder to breathe, even without the hand working to restrict your. Hands shaking, covered in the man’s crimson blood, tears streamed down your face. With the absence of your purple hoodie, now stained with the blood of someone else, the cold air nipped at your exposed skin. There were some red smears on your once white singlet. Why was there so much red? The shaking of your hands only worsened as you crawled to sit against the wall, hand reaching for the cellphone you’d dropped in the commotion. You only needed one person right now. The phone didn’t ring for long.

“Y/N, what’s up?” Felix spoke calmly through the phone, blissfully unaware. A sob forced up your throat as you tried to talk.

“F-Felix, I killed someone. Oh, God, I killed someone,” your voice came out between broken sobs. You could imagine Felix standing up in a panic, gathering his shit and furrowing his eyebrows.

“What do you mean? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at home, someone came in and I didn’t know what was happening and I-I stabbed him, Felix I sta-”

“Hey, take a deep breath, okay? I’m on my way right now, don’t move,” you nodded in response, knowing fully well that Felix couldn’t see you. Mumbling an okay, you ended the call.

Felix gently pushed open the door, ushering in the others. Chan, Minho and Changbin had insisted on coming along with Felix, worried someone else could be lurking and waiting for Felix to enter your apartment block. The apartment was in disarray: furniture tipped, photo frames shattered, a plate thrown carelessly like a toy. A body surrounded by blood, and Felix’s childhood friend sitting against the wall behind it, shaking. The purple material of your hoodie was stained, noticeably so, laying across your legs haphazardly. Felix rushed forward, crouching to your level and pulling you into his chest. The others watched from a few feet away, uncertain of what to say or do.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Felix cooed as sobs wracked your form. He swayed you gently, petting your hair to calm you down. The youngest turned his attention towards the other boys once your sobs quietened slightly, “Minho, can you take Y/N back down to the car? We’ll be down in a minute,” Minho nodded silently, gently walking towards you to scoop you up in his arms, the hoodie remaining bundled up on your legs. Neither of you said a word once you entered the car. Minho peeled the cover up from your lap, slightly gagging at the toxic iron scent of the blood. He gently take your hands in his as he washed off as much blood as he could with a white cloth and water bottle. Your mind was evidently elsewhere.

Chan and Felix returned to the car ten minutes later after thoroughly searching for stolen possessions. Chan filled Minho in on the details, hoping you’d gain some closure from hearing them, “he was from NCT, had some silver bracelets and their wallet shoved in his bag. Changbin called Woojin, they’ll put everything back in place,” Minho nodded softly as Felix opened up the car door on your other side. The car starts as Felix takes one of your hands in his, the red stains faded to a lighter tone. You seemed to take no notice, staring blankly at the car’s console in front of you.

It was late, or early depending on how you see it. Red lines illuminated in formation of the time, 3:36am. The car had pulled up in front of a dark house in a quieter area of Seoul, yet still off one of the main roads. You concluded that it was only quiet because of the ungodly time, otherwise there would be cars cramming the streets, honking left and right. Chan exited the car first, purposefully closing the door gently to not alarm or shock you, Minho following suit. Felix opened his door, tugging your hand gently to encourage you to leave the vehicle. It was as if you were on autopilot. Blood splattered legs moved on their own as the green hoodie Minho had leant you protected your arms from the chilling night air, Felix’s arm slipped around your waist to support you as you walked into the house. He noticed that Woojin’s car was missing from the street; he wondered how long it would take Woojin and Changbin to fix up your apartment. As you stepped foot inside the quiet house, it revealed itself to be much larger than you initially thought. The kitchen was furthest from you, a spiral staircase to the right that led you both upstairs and downstairs, a hallway that trailed off from the left side of the living room. The living room was cozy and inhabited by two boys packing cocaine. Lovely.

“Hey ma- what the fuck?” The smaller of the two, a brunette boy with chubby cheeks, spoke as he raised his head to greet the returning members. The other boy, with lighter brown hair, almost a dirty blonde, mirrored the other’s confusion. Neither had expected to see a random person with bloody hands, legs and absent eyes being guided through the house by Felix. The freckled boy didn’t stop to greet them, immediately guiding you upstairs to wash off in the bathroom. The two boys immediately understood the severity of the situation, but they still craved for answers.

“NCT went after them. All they did was defend themselves from death,” Chan spoke firmly, his eyebrows slightly curved in a mix of sympathy and fury.

Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed, “but we don’t go after innocent people?”

Chan huffed in response, “clearly NCT had other plans. Where’s Seungmin?”

“Basement. Jeongin’s there too,” Hyunjin spoke as he turned his attention back to the white substance on the coffee table. Chan nodded firmly before leaving, Minho falling onto the empty couch across from the two boys to stretch his tired limbs. Hyunjin sat with furrowed eyebrows, staring at the table intensely.

“Hyunjin, you good?” Minho questioned in concern.

“Yeah, just… something feels off about this.”

Jisung huffed a laugh, “well, yeah, NCT just broke a golden rule.”

“That’s the point, why would they?” Jisung had suddenly lost interest in the business transaction being organised on the table, Minho sitting up in curiosity. Hyunjin flickered his eyes to the staircase momentarily, “you know how anal they are about maintaining that rule. Taeyong made the damn rule after…” Hyunjin trailed off as all eyes lowered solemnly, no one wanted to utter her name. They all knew how much it hurt Taeyong when she was murdered, everyone was hurt, shocked. There was no reason to bring up old pain, “why would they break it now?” Minho tilted his head as he wandered over the possibilities, Jisung put his focus back on the white substance with a sigh.

“Whatever the reason, Chan will make them pay,” his nimbled hands continued with his previous work, “no fucking doubt.”

Chan stood as Taeyong entered the cafe, bowing and shaking hands before sitting down again. It was better to meet in a public setting, less likely for emotions and irrationality to get the better of anyone involved. The older ran a hand through his fiery red hair in frustration, “what happened?”

Chan lowered his voice cautiously, “Felix’s friend, Y/N... one of your men tried to kill them this past Friday.”

Taeyong moved forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on the table with narrowed eyes, “what are you talking about?”

“Ji Hansol broke into their apartment and almost killed an innocent person. One of your men broke the golden rule.”

“Where is he?” Taeyong was evidently furious; that rule was the one thing he drilled into his employees’ minds.

“Dead. It was either him or them.”

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “if they hadn’t have already killed him I would’ve done it myself,” he paused abruptly, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, “wait—Ji Hansol?” Chan nodded, “how is that possible? He’s meant to be in China.”

Chan mirrored Taeyong’s look of confusion, “then what the hell was he doing here?”

Taeyong sighed, “as suspicious as it looks, I swear on her life that NCT was not behind this in any way. I’ll get the documents to prove he wasn’t meant to be here, I’ll help you get to the bottom of this, I’ll do whatever I can,” his voice softened significantly, “no innocent person deserves to die.”

Lee Taeyong, as intimidating as he could be, was truly a weakened man. Behind the eyebrow slit, dark narrowed eyes, fiery red hair and commanding presence, he was a grieving lover, a leader of men who could die under his call. Chan knew he hadn’t lived the same experiences as the older, but he understood the fear that plagued him. The fear of losing everything, everyone—the only difference was that Taeyong had already experienced that when she died. Seulgi had done such a good job at keeping Taeyong together, but in doing so she became the only thing that could tear him apart.

No one had a clue as to why you were targeted to begin with. NCT had proven their lack of involvement, none of Chan’s gang — which you’d come to know as ‘Stray Kids’ — had done anything to provoke Hansol, and he clearly wasn’t here to give an explanation. Seungmin had spent weeks researching the man, with the occasional help of Jeongin when he wasn’t at school or using an innocent childlike facade to coax information. After just over two months, Seungmin had finally found out what happened. During that time, you hadn’t left the guest room unless it was absolutely necessary. Felix and Changbin had returned to your apartment the day after the break-in to collect the belongings you’d need most desperately; none of them wanted you returning to the apartment until there was an answer.

Seungmin’s chair swivelled around to face Chan and Taeyong in the doorway, “Voler.”

“What?”

“It’s French for ‘steal’ apparently,” Seungmin gestured his pen towards his desk, “it’s also the name of a huge hitman and robbery scheme across Asia. It’s believed to have stemmed from the Yakuza, but nothing’s confirmed. Our dear Hansol happened to be a loyal member.”

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “I-I don’t understand, how could he betray us like that?”

Seungmin sighed softly, “it paid very high, mainly because the stakes were so high. That doesn’t matter though, we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands now,” Seungmin’s hands sifted through the scattered information on his desk, a small noise of triumph leaving his soft lips once he retrieved the piece he was looking for, “they’ve got a base in Ilsandong-gu, Hansol was stationed at that specific base-”

“Which means they were more likely to have involvement in Y/N’s robbery,” Chan voiced earning a satisfied nod from Seungmin. The curly-haired man turned to Taeyong, “you in?”

Taeyong eyed the younger two momentarily, “without a fucking doubt.”

Woojin grunted slightly as he supported Hyunjin with his left arm. They all knew the dangers this mission presented, but none of them quite preempted severe injury. Everything had been going to plan; Changbin sniped the first man who presented himself, Minho snuck up on the second, then all hell broke loose. There was blood everywhere, gunshots whizzing past barricades left and right, it was pure chaos. Hyunjin had been grappling with a rival member, trying to gain dominance in order to reach for the gun abandoned beside the two. He had almost reached it when the other forced a knife through his abdomen towards the upper right of his belly button. Changbin took the chance to shoot the perpetrator in the head after noticing the situation, desperately signalling to Woojin. Soon, all of SKZ were alerted of Hyunjin’s state, covering Woojin from gunfire as he half-dragged half-carried Hyunjin out of the warehouse.

When you heard the door burst open, the last thing you expected to see was a groaning Hyunjin leaning on Woojin for support. You saw the blood staining his shirt, pouring from his abdomen, causing your stomach to churn and rid of the desire to eat the sandwich you’d just made. You hardly knew Hyunjin, or Woojin, or any of SKZ except for Felix, but you knew where your morals lied. If there was a man bleeding out in front of you, you’d do everything you could to save his life. There’s no denying that you didn’t have extreme confidence in your medical ability, at least in terms of operating on dying people, but you put that aside in the moment. You knew how the human body worked and how to save it, all you had to do was not fuck up in the process. Instantly, you snap into action, trailing behind Woojin towards their designated medical room. The only time you’d entered the room was when Felix forced you inside so Woojin could properly check the bruises on your neck. You had taken notice of the lack of anesthesia or oxygen masks to be used in desperate situations—Felix had once told you that Woojin always patched them up, but he also told you that no one had ever been fatally wounded.

Woojin’s panic was evident in the way he hastily laid Hyunjin down on the operating table, eyes darting around frantically. With quick steps, you moved beside Woojin, “get a cloth or something to put in his mouth, it’ll muffle the screams,” the older nodded quickly. You turned your attention back to Hyunjin—he was paler than usual, sweating and groaning, his condition was only worsening. As soon as Woojin had shoved the cloth in his mouth you proceeded, ordering him to hold Hyunjin down to the best of his ability. You were glad Woojin was strong; Hyunjin would be in a hell of a lot of pain. Hyunjin’s neck tensed as you placed a hand on the knife’s handle, grunting slightly at the movement. You took a deep breath, laying a hand on his abdomen for support as you removed the knife from him as quickly as you could. A pained scream tore from Hyunjin’s throat, guttural and haunting. The cloth had done little to muffle the sound. Your hands applied pressure to the wound, frantically working to halt the bleeding before it was too late, all the while Woojin promised he would treat Hyunjin to a free meal if he got through the pain.

Hyunjin’s chest raised up and down peacefully as he slept in the white bed of the medical room. After screaming and groaning his way through the process of getting stitches, he haphazardly downed a glass of water before falling asleep. You found it difficult to monitor whether the boy had made it or not due to the lack of heart monitor, the peaceful sounds of his breathing would have to do for now.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N, really,” Woojin spoke warmly. You’d have previous assumptions about the mafia and gangs, mainly based on Hollywood flicks that dramatised the career choice, but the nine boys seemed to throw those all out the window. Woojin had a nurturing and calming presence, Felix was playful and giving, that Minho guy who’d fixed you up that night was quiet and respectful. To be fair, the rest of them could have entirely fit the stereotype of the mafia, you just hadn’t interacted with them enough to find out. After the events that brought you here, you decided it would be best to just stay out of the way and keep to yourself—both for your benefit and theirs. You didn’t want to interrupt what they had going on and you didn’t want to interact with anyone. With a polite smile you nodded your head, unsure of how to respond to Woojin.

Chan stood in the doorway as you laid the damp cloth on Hyunjin’s head. Two days had passed since the stabbing and you’d devoted all your time to helping Hyunjin—you figured it would be a good way to repay them for letting you stay here, and you were the most qualified to do so. Hyunjin wanted nothing more than to get back to work but his body simply refused. Exhaustion wracked his limbs when he was awake and every time he attempted to sit up, let alone stand, his head felt like a bowling ball and weighed him back down. He’d fallen asleep not long ago, before Chan came to check on him. You weren’t aware of the older’s presence until he spoke up, startling you into a flinch of fright.

“Thank you for doing this.”

You half-smiled at him, “it’s okay.”

The male sighed gently before walking into the room, the click of the door shutting behind him sliced through the room’s air. You felt his presence beside you as you refused to meet his gaze—he was far too intimidating even by just standing there, “I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” his voice was gentler than before. Soft, calm, genuine—he probably wouldn’t fit the stone cold stereotype set by Vito Corleone in The Godfather, “we’ll figure out a safer place for you to go, but, in the meantime, just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I truly am sorry that you got dragged into this.”

You turned your head in order to meet Chan’s gaze. It was soft, genuine, and almost broken. You got the feeling that he didn’t enter this lifestyle willingly, that he knew exactly what it was like to suddenly be affiliated with a lifestyle you had little to no prior knowledge about. Chan wasn’t here by choice, but he stuck by it. He followed through with what fate served him and he built an empire from it, he found a family to live through the darkest of days. You admired that more than he could know, “I will. Thank you for what you’ve done.”

Chan didn’t voice it, but he saw your arrival as a potential opportunity. You were familiar with medicine and how to properly patch someone up after they receive a life-threatening injury. Rather than losing two fighters when someone is injured, surely it would be better to have a designated nurse who could stick to the job, instead of forcing Woojin to rush through life-saving surgery in order to make it back to a mission in time to drive everyone back to the house. Chan knew it was a desperate deal, stupid and selfish in all honesty, but your arrival could’ve been a long-term blessing in disguise. After all, Chan’s life had been largely riddled with bad luck, perhaps karma had finally taken mercy on him.

At least a month had passed since the incident—you really had no concept of time in this place—and Hyunjin was slowly, but surely, recovering with no sign of infection. You’d also seen his bare abdomen one too many times at this point since he insists on being shirtless―he avidly insists “it’ll be easier than fucking up my shirt.” Aside from monitoring his recovery and trying not to stare at his perfectly sculpted abdomen, you’d began to form a good bond with Hyunjin during your time together. You never talked to him until the incident, mainly because you never had a reason to leave the room you were staying in, and you couldn’t deny you were slightly mad with yourself for not conversing sooner. He was entertaining to talk to, a little bit of a drama queen sometimes, yet intelligent and open-minded. Hyunjin had a good mix of personality traits, you slightly envied him for such. Surely conversing with someone like yourself was bland and repetitive.

Of course it was unbeknownst to you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth; Hyunjin had taken an interest in you since you began caring for him. All he had known about you prior to your care was that you and Felix had been good friends for a while, you were studying at university, and your shit got rocked by someone you didn’t even know―it was an unfortunate turn to say the least. The fact it happened to you made Hyunjin curse the forces that caused it; there was no reason for you to be dragged into this kind of unforgiving, inescapable lifestyle when you had a heart of gold. He could vividly recall the conversation that prompted the revelation, it must’ve been two or more weeks into his recovery.

“I assume you study nursing or something, right?”

“Medical science, but close enough,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“Why medical science instead of becoming a doctor or something?”

“We all die one day, I’d rather help find a cure for something than force people to suffer through it slowly.”

Hyunjin hadn’t known how to respond to that, so he didn’t, but it resonated with him. The whole reason he’d joined the business, this kind of inescapable lifestyle, was to earn enough money to pay for better treatment for his mother. He got close, really damn close, but he just didn’t get there in time. The first non-business phone call he got was to inform him about his mother’s passing, he hadn’t received another since.

It was evident to Hyunjin, and every other member, that you were incredibly smart―a fact Felix would boast as if it was his own. Your skills, mainly in the science field, could come in useful to the gang: you had a good medical understanding, knew which chemicals could do harm or hinder a person momentarily. Chan was intrigued by your abilities and more than willing to take you on board, but no one ever joined without the approval of every member. Gaining such had been a difficult task, with Felix insisting that he didn’t want to see you hurt or in harm’s way―his mind quickly changed when Jeongin asked “wouldn’t it be just like a sleepover?” Hyunjin wasn’t as easy to persuade. He didn’t share the fact he was hesitant, but he didn’t need to. It was written all over his symmetrical face.

Truthfully, Hyunjin had grown a little too close to you during his recovery, obliviously until he had a startling epiphany. You were the last thing he saw when he fell asleep, the first thing he saw when he woke up. You cared for him more than yourself, it was evident in your under eye bags and weight loss ― to the point where he had refused to eat unless you were eating with him. When he looked at you, the evening sunset highlighting you perfectly and your hair unstyled, yet sitting neatly on your head, he knew he was in deep. Regarding his feelings, he had two concerns: whether you felt the same way, and whether Felix would be accepting of his feelings and approve him as a candidate for your love; he didn’t need the added possibility of you fucking dying to become the third concern. At the end of the day, he supposed it didn’t matter. Felix would never want anyone to hurt you, and even if he didn’t intend to, Hyunjin knew he would inevitably end up doing so.

When Chan proposed for you to join their gang, you were hesitant to say the least. For you, there was no desperate situation in which you needed cash quickly, no reason to put yourself in harm’s way. It was dangerous, Chan admitted that to your face, but he promised you consistent protection and a position that didn’t include staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Y/N, you’ve been here for four months already. How many times have you been hurt?”

You didn’t like his persuasiveness, or the fact he was right. Since you moved into their guest bedroom you’d felt safer, no longer feeling eyes follow you or whispers of your name in the middle of the night. There was a small part of you that wanted to decline the offer, return home to your apartment and never look in the eyes of Chan or Hyunjin ever again. Of course, that was only a small part of you. Although you hated to admit it, you knew you’d never be able to return to that apartment. Not without seeing the blood all over again, feeling the breath leave your lungs or hearing unexplainable noises elsewhere in the apartment. With a soft movement of your head, you agreed, “okay.”

Chan smiled with a strong nod, he was fond of you after all, as were the others in the group. It seemed that everyone was in support of the decision, especially your freckled friend who beamed as he exclaimed, “it’ll be like an eternal sleepover!”

“That sounds like a nightmare if you’re involved,” Seungmin deadpanned, but his stoic expression was quickly replaced by an amused smile at Felix’s pout. Though, everything wasn’t as it seemed. Hyunjin, as much as he wanted to be, wasn’t excited. You joining the gang ― regardless of whether you would be in the middle of the action ― meant seeing you everyday. Seeing you everyday meant realising how much he admired you. And admiring you meant he would only fall deeper. How could he tell anyone that, though? Such an objection would send a rift of embarrassment, discomfort, awkwardness through the house; everything would fall. There was no time for silly crushes. All he could do was admire you from afar and ache every time you walked away from him, completely oblivious to how he felt. When did he become so weak? Hyunjin didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and that’s exactly how you made him feel. With a soft sigh, he decided it would be better to just stay away.

It was a solid plan―for a month, until Hyunjin was injured again in a trade gone wrong. If he was being completely honest with himself, which he recently was not, the constant thought of you kept him from concentrating during the trade. He felt so out of it, blocking out the sounds of his non-biological brothers yelling as a bullet whizzed towards him. No, all he saw was the way you looked so ethereal in the light, the way you would always be just out of reach. All he could think about with you, there was no time to consider the scars being etched in his abdomen. Faintly, he could feel the burning in his chest, Chan’s arms dragging him away as bullets rang out from Changbin’s position on the roof. He didn’t register being put in the car, or Chan demanding he keep his eyes open with a hand pressed tightly against his chest. He could feel his feet dragging slightly as Chan and Woojin dragged him inside, the sight of Hyunjin’s pale face and bleeding chest forcing Seungmin, Minho and Jeongin to abandon their intense game of uno.

“Oh fuck, fuck, shit,” Chan and Woojin couldn’t find the time to scold Jeongin’s language, too concerned with the dying boy in their arms. Jeongin’s feet pounded up the stairs, throwing your door open and tugging you to the first aid room. The confusion on your features transformed to gut-wrenching worry as soon as you caught sight of Hyunjin, his shirt off and a cloth being stuffed in his mouth―you couldn’t tell whether it was Minho or Woojin who was holding him down while the other gathered the necessary equipment, everything seemed to blur as you jumped into action. You’d found someone willing to sell you, an unlicensed medical student, anesthesia, but it was due to arrive next week―just your luck. Chan’s hands clamped on Hyunjin’s legs, Seungmin turned away to avoid the gruesome sight, Jeongin lingered by the door.

“I’m sorry,” the words came out as a whisper as you took the scalpel from Woojin, slicing across where the bullet had entered. The entry hole was too small to get it out safety―who were you kidding, you weren’t even sure if you could get it out. The cloth only slightly muffled the pained groan Hyunjin let out, gosh, you wished that anesthesia could’ve come sooner. Screams of agony tore from his throat as tweezers worked to remove the bullet, the writhing of his legs causing anxiety to rise in your chest.

“Keep him still,” Woojin ordered. One sudden move and you’d live with the crushing guilt of knowing you let Hyunjin die. Hyunjin seemed to vaguely register Woojin’s words, opting to tense his muscles rather than squirm away from the pain. Seungmin covered his ears with a solemn expression while Jeongin looked away in discomfort, the shrill cries continuing. It was close, too close for your liking, to hitting Hyunjin in a fatal area or embedding deeply in his chest.

“I got it,” you mumbled as the bloody metal was dumped in the dish beside you. Woojin ushered everyone out of the room, Hyunjin’s screams of agony downgrading to groans.

“Give me a call if you need anything,” the oldest closed the door behind him. You heard the front door slam open and shut with frantic footsteps, marking the return of Felix, Changbin and Jisung. Words were calmly and indistinguishably spoken by Chan. Though, it didn’t matter what he was telling them, your priority was making sure Hyunjin wouldn’t cease breathing. His eyelids were fluttering shut from exhaustion, an action that would flare alarm in your chest.

“Please, don’t fall asleep.”

The cloth was removed from his mouth when it was over, your hand raking his hair away from his sweaty forehead, ridding of the uncomfortable sensation. A sigh passed your lips, voice soft as you spoke, “you need to stop making a habit out of this,” it was directed towards Hyunjin, but you weren’t sure he heard it.

Hyunjin wanted to respond, something flirty he could blame on his disorientation and pain, but you were already urging him to down some bottled water. As you cleaned the utensils, Hyunjin allowed his eyes to flutter closed, whispering a gentle “thank you, Y/N.”

Time passed without your acknowledgement; had it been weeks, months? It all blended together, you couldn’t be certain. Hyunjin was close to recovery, but not quite there. Frankly, you were getting tired of his occasional complaints about not “being in action”. Part of you hoped he’d stay out of action if it kept him safe, but you knew that wasn’t an option in this kind of lifestyle. The roots of his hair were coming through, the dirty blonde darkening to have a light brown tone instead. It was the little things that were becoming noticeable as you spent more time with him; the moles on his face, the way the sun seeped through the window and reflected so clearly in his eyes. He sat on what was referred to as the ‘operation table’―except it wasn’t padded and was likely meant for veterinarians―as you searched for mild pain medication. When you turned around, you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him. His head was turned away from you, gazing wistfully out the window, the setting sun illuminating his honey skin in rays of golden sunshine. He looked like a statue from Greek mythology, sculpted by the Gods to embody perfection, frame marked with the scars of a warrior. They littered his abdomen, one from the stabbing, one from the bullet, one on his lower back that Woojin had patched up for him before you came ― it was obvious in the way it was majorly faded. A sigh passed the male’s plump lips, looking down at his fidgeting hands before looking up at you. If only you knew what he thought about you. How he felt you were incomparable, the finest piece of art to ever be masterfully painted. The oversized white shirt you wore contrasted your glowing skin and hung around your figure in an unfitted, yet still accentuating, manner. It wasn’t quite long enough to hide your blue pyjama shorts from sight. You approached him quietly, holding out the painkillers and a glass of water. Pulling yourself on the table, you sit beside Hyunjin as he downs the painkillers and watch the sunset. He glances over at you curiously, gulping down a mouthful of water, “you seem to be pretty good at saving lives, why aren’t you a doctor already?” A light laugh passed your lips.

“Because I’m not studying to become a doctor, and I haven’t spent, what? Nine years studying?”

“It takes nine years to become a doctor?” Hyunjin’s eyes almost bulged out of his skull. You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Something like that,” a comfortable silence settled between the two of you, watching as the sun swam closer to the horizon, “besides, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the pressure of saving someone’s life.”

A chuckle sounded from Hyunjin, “you say that, yet you’ve saved me from death twice.” You grew silent, he looked at you knowingly. The thought had never crossed your mind, you didn’t want to consider the possibility of Hyunjin dying―you didn’t want to imagine any of them dying, Hyunjin was the only one who’d come close so far.

“Yeah, but that’s… different.”

“How is it different?” Hyunjin looked towards you with a quirked eyebrow; you often wondered that too. You refused to look at him, too afraid of spilling all your secrets with one glance―but they came out in whispers, regardless.

“Because… I can’t live a life where you’re dead.”

The words almost slipped by him, blending in with the light breeze swirling outside, but he caught them. In one sentence, Hyunjin had the answers to every question that’d swarmed his brain since the week after his stabbing. There was no hesitation in his actions, cupping your left cheek in his hand and turning your face towards him. The sun glistened in your eyes, highlighting the enchanting colour of your orbs, shadows danced lightly on your face. In that moment, he wanted you to know that you wouldn’t lose him, no matter what. His eyes fluttered shut as his head dipped down, fulfilling the dream he’d chased since you first saved him. Your lips pressed together in a warm embrace, melting together as if they were made for each other. His tongue swiped at your lower lip, asking for access that you granted. As the sun rays of gold heated your skin and framed your soul, Hyunjin swore he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

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motherlifesucher-archives · 5 years ago

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call her señorita l Shawn Mendes imagine.

summary: she feels like her worst fears are becoming a reality after watching Shawn’s video with Camila Cabello.

She remembers perfectly the day Shawn told her he was making a new song with Camila.

She couldn’t really help the weird feeling that made it through her body, something like electricity as she could barely stop her eyes from closing.

“That’s great, baby. I’m sure it’s going to be a hit.” (Y/N) gave Shawn a tight smile.

Shawn grabbed her hand. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s nothing. I’m happy with you and she’s happy with her boyfriend, we just had this idea...” Shawn started rambling, but she interrupted him.

“Shawn, you don’t have to give me an explanation. I know she’s your friend and I trust our relationship, you don’t have to feel like you’re doing something wrong.” She caressed his cheek.

That conversation had taken place almost nine months ago. Now, she was silently staring at the wall as she watched the music video. Well, at least she tried to after closing her laptop several times when the scenes got too much for her to watch.

She knew she was overreacting, there was nothing to be done and it probably was her mind playing games on her.

but maybe, just maybe... it wasn't that she was delusional, maybe it was the reality hitting her on the face as she watched her boyfriend with the woman he used to have a crush on and much of the show business world wanted them together.

As if a weird coincidence or conspiracy was playing against her, Alexa started playing the song Why by Shawn, and she truly felt like she could punch a hole through her apartment wall.

She ignored Shawn’s call, knowing it wasn’t going do to any good to have a conversation right now. she simply activated the do not disturb and stared at the ceiling.

She hoped her luck would change by the morning, but she opened the BuzzFeed app to catch up and noticed a headline that caught her attention.

Camila Cabello and her boyfriend have broken up.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A perfect storm, because she didn’t need to open her Instagram to know that her posts were filled with comments of people telling her to leave Shawn so that he and Camila could finally be together.

She knew she couldn’t keep avoiding Shawn. Warily answering his texts, saying she had fallen asleep last night and wasn’t able to respond. It didn’t take long for Shawn to call her, she sighed before picking up.

“Hey you, you had me worried.” Shawn said and she knew he was sipping on his coffee.

“Hey... I’m sorry, I was just so tired and went to be early.”

“’s okay,” Silence filled the line. “Did you watch the video?” Shawn asked, knowing deep inside of him that she hadn’t been tired last night, she was just ignoring him.

“I did.” She answered too quickly.

Shawn breathed in deeply, “Did you like it?”

“Of course, it was great.”

“(Y/N)...” Shawn closed his eyes and ran a hand through his curls.

“Look, I have a busy day and have to go, sorry.” She could feel her eyes filling with tears as she spoke.

“I know you are not okay.” Shawn insisted.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Her voice raised. “Call me when you know which day you’ll be back, okay?”

Shawn sighed, “okay,” He didn’t know what else to say, “Hey, I love you.”

A smile creeped on her lips, “I love you, Shawn.”

An entire day went by and Shawn told her they could spend the weekend together. She knew these days were rare and had to be appreciated deeply, but she couldn’t help the jealousy that cursed her blood as she kept replaying the images of her boyfriend and his friend sharing a couple of tender touches, even if it was a music video.

But she opened Instagram and saw Shawn, Camila and his team posting photos of them when they weren’t rolling. And the one were the entire team that worked on the video and they had their hands linked as Shawn hugged her from behind.

This was more than just jealousy, she felt humiliated in front of the world as now even her friends were calling her and asking if everything was alright, not because of the video, but because of the photo of them after the video.

Maybe now she wasn’t overreacting as tabloids were reaching her to ask her opinion and a confirmation of the end of hers and Shawn’s relationship.

All go these factors combined had as a result that she flinched when Shawn knocked on the door, still carrying his suitcase and wearing a youth hoodie and sweatpants.

He tried to hug her, but her body went rigid the moment his warm body touched hers.

Shawn closed his eyes and sighed, clearly annoyed by the situation.

“You have got to be shitting me, (Y/N).” Shawn told her, harshly letting go of his carry-on suitcase.

“Do not treat me like that.” She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing.

“Like what? Like a crazy person? Because you are being crazy and paranoid right now!” Shawn paced around the living room. “Jesus, I can’t believe this is the one weekend off I get and you decide to play the psycho girlfriend.”

Tears built in her eyes. “Oh my God, Shawn. I haven’t said anything, stop treating me like garbage.”

His eyes softened and shook his head. “Hon, I’m sorry, I'm just stressed.”

“Stressed? Have been people calling you in the middle of the night because they want you to confirm you left me for Camila? About what were my thoughts on meeting with Matthew and talk about how you and Camila left us to be together?”

“You should be used to this by now, (Y/N)!” He rubbed his eyes, obvious tiredness hiding behind them.

“Well, I am not! Because you never really gave me a reason to not trust you around other people, but the only thing I've felt lately is like a third choice and like trash, because everyone is making me feel like I don’t matter and like I am an obstacle for you and her being together, and you haven’t made it any easier, Shawn!”

“What the fuck do you want me to do?” He laughed humorlessly. “It’s my job, and now I am fucking leaving because clearly you do not want to understand.”

She started crying. “I understand that, I know that it is your job. what I do not understand is why you, and her, and your entire fucking team keeps posting shit with the two of you holding hands while you look at her like you want to fuck her,” She covered her face in a useless attempt to stop her tears. “And not only that, it’s like you are longing for her, and don’t tell me I'm crazy because I know you, Shawn.”

Shawn just stood there, quiet, trying to process his girlfriend’s words. The only thing that reached his ears were the quiet sobs of (Y/N) as she tried to recover her breath to keep talking.

“I’ve grown used to people hating on me. I get it, it’s part of being in love with you, but situations like these make me question if it’s worth it,” She closed her eyes as her breathing quickened. “Now leave, you should enjoy your weekend off.”

Shawn sighed, “I’m not leaving you in this state, (Y/N).”

“Don’t worry about me, I'll be fine. Just please don’t treat me like a mad woman and admit you feel something for her, I know there are songs about her. And after you come to terms with it, you should have the decency to tell me. Talk to you later.”

Shawn was leaving when guilt overtook his senses and made him stop while he was crossing the door.

“I kissed her, while we were filming.”

Suddenly, the tears stopped.

“What?” She mumbled quietly. So quietly he barely heard her.

“It was on the spur of the moment, neither of us planned for it to happen.”

It was her turn to bitterly laugh, “Yet you had the nerve to call me crazy, Shawn. This is so fucked up. How long ago was this?”

Shawn closed his eyes and didn’t want to answer until he heard her yelling for him to tell her.

“Three months ago.”

“Fuck. Shawn, get the fuck out.” She wasn’t crying anymore, because she knew it wasn’t all in her mind.

“No. I have to explain.”

“There’s nothing, Shawn, absolutely nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

“I didn’t want to tell you because it meant nothing. That’s why you don’t have to worry, because I know for a fact that I felt nothing when I kissed her, the only person I want to kiss and love is you.”

“Bullshit. Now, get out.”

“Promise you’ll call before I leave.”

“I don’t have to promise you anything, Shawn. I don’t know if you realize, but you just confessed that you cheated on me. Now, please leave.”

Shawn shook his head before getting out of the apartment, knowing she’d cry herself to sleep and he’d toss and turn knowing he made a mistake.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes au meme #Shawn Mendes angst #shawn mendes x reader

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kimberly-spirits13 · 5 years ago

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For Wandering Dreamers (Bonus Story & Not Technically Part of the Series Just Same Universe It’ll Make Sense)

Synopsis: You had a chance to watch Spoilers for Justice League Dark Apokolips War and it ended it angst and fluff

Notes: This is taken from the same concept as my For Wandering Dreamers series and is just what would happen if you watched the movie in that set universe since you still have access to your old phone. This is also a bit angsty at the beginning and fluff at the end.

Warnings: Spoilers for Justice League Dark Apokolips War, language

Word Count: 1770

You were sitting on your bed in Wayne Manor, phone in hand, now connected to your computer. It was the release day of the new movie back home where you were from and you were pumped for the movie. The only issue for you was seeing Damian and Raven together on screen what with you dating him and all. It was a bit weird but you weren’t going to let that stop you from watching the movie.

Damian was going out for patrol and had just left. You didn’t really know how violent this movie would be but there were rumors that it would be pretty hardcore. It was just a movie though, and you were sure to teleport into a universe that wasn’t as... doomed as Flashpoint.

Damian walked out of the room after one last kiss before you started up the movie and sat back to embark on whatever was supposed to happen. You watched as the movie started getting kind of intense.

“A bit early dontcha think DC?” You muttered arms crossed.

The film continued and eventually you stumbled across some of the bloodiest and most violent scenes that you’d ever witnessed. Would it have kind of messed you up watching it without knowing that this stuff was real? Yes. But now, knowing that this thing really happened, it hurts in a new kind of way.

You watched as your favorite heroes died one by one. It was the most antagonizing thing that you’d ever seen in so long. Babs, eaten alive, Hawkman having his wings ripped off, it was like watching everyone that had raised you as a kid be killed off one by one. It broke you seeing what happened to the heroes as the casualties started sky rocketing. What really made you sick was the Titans dying.

Star was split in half, her blood everywhere and spine showing through, Conner’s neck was snapped and then you saw it, Dick being stabbed to death. The sound made you feel queasy you felt sick to your stomach and then your heart dropped when the parademon saw Damian. You felt tears well in your eyes on anticipation only breathing when he was just knocked into the water seeing as there was a chance of his survival.

It was hard going on, but know you were glued to the screen watching in anticipation of what was to happen. Eventually after sticking your nose up to what you knew as the DamiRae parts of the movie in jealousy, you got to one of the last battles. It was Damian vs Bruce and you knew it was not going to be pretty. If there was anything that you would never show him besides this entire movie, it was going to be this part and you knew it. You grimaced at the words that Bruce said. They echoed in your mind, his voice sticking there for a few seconds. “Your mother mentally broke me.” He continued, “You’re a burden.”

“Damn B, I know you’re brainwashed and crap but what happened to Batdad?” You said getting a bit mad at the dialogue.

After a little while, you watched in absolute horror as Damian jumped in front of Bruce. You were at a loss of words watching him shrivel into what looked like an ancient version of himself. Words clumped into the back of your throat as you started to cry hearing Raven screaming and then the climax of the movie hitting. It was terrible seeing him like that. You didn’t stop crying when he was revived either, you didn’t stop until the end of the movie where finally you went to the bathroom for a second.

Damian wasn’t due to be home for a bit. It was an amazing movie, but seriously? You thought you’d be sick seeing the outcomes of Dick and everyone else. Yes, Flash would hopefully fix everything running into the Speed Force, but it costed everything. You went to the shelf in your bedroom, grabbing your character guide to flip through it. Tears only really came for those with the worst deaths. You didn’t know what happened to some of the characters but you were sure it either wasn’t good, or they weren’t in the movie at all. It was weird seeing everyone in this light and really didn’t affect you too terribly until you thought of Diana. She was the mother you never had and your childhood hero. Watching her become this cyborg version of herself, losing everything was something you didn’t take well.

You flipped the page to her four pages and cried looking down at the now broken hero, seeing her in a whole new way of defeat and near death. You didn’t realize how much time had passed when you got a knock on the door and a voice that was certainly Damian’s.

“Beloved?” He asked before you said he could come in, “Are you alrig-“

Damian stopped dead in his tracks looking at your tear stained face with much concern and then saw the book open in your hands and the black screen of your laptop, it turning off automatically.

“What happened?” He asked scooping you into his arms and sitting on your bed.

“E-everyone d-died.” You choked up, “A-and Diana, she, I just, she was completely broken." “Y-you...” You trailed off not wanting to continue, the look on your face being very evident too Damian that that was the case.

“Y/N, it doesn’t happen here, you know that. It was you who told me that this kind of thing would have already happened since it just got made into a movie.” Damian said, “Everyone is fine.” “I’m fine, I’m here with you, and you’re fine.”

You looked up at him and shut the book before deleting the file of the movie, “Do not go watching that Damian.”

“I won’t beloved, you have my word.” Damian promised tucking you two in and shutting off the lamp, “Remember, I’ll always be right here with you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You said not falling asleep as quickly as typical.

It was a few hours later when a dream came on about the movie. You were there in some kind of clear box watching from afar. Damian was bleeding looking up at Bruce before it forwarded more and you saw the league in ruins once more. Damian was strapped into a machine and you were trying to get to him. There was no use in this however. He looked at you and pleaded for help before suddenly, without a moment’s notice, he shriveled into the grey corpse you had seen him in previously.

“Y/N! Beloved wake up!” Damian was shaking you awake gently before you shot up, sweat covering your face and tears starting to stream down your face as you latched onto Damian, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“You’re okay Y/N, it was just a dream.” Damian said tenderly.

“Please don’t stop talking.” You whimpered feeling him start to trace patterns ono your back as he started talking again, his hot breath dancing on your shoulder.

“My love, when we first met I couldn’t believe that you were from a different universe.” Damian chuckled some, “To think you were so accustomed to Gotham and fought that man with such pride, I could have thought you had lived here your entire life. After I- you took me back to the cave, I thought you would have demanded to become a vigilante along with the rest of us.” “I’m glad that you didn’t, it makes me feel better knowing that you’re safe but can also handle yourself at any given time. I’m so sorry that you had to see what you did in this kind of context.”

His touch became still on your back before he took a long, drawn out sigh as if he was thinking about what he was going to say, “I love you like I love the stars, they are a small light of mystery and beauty in this world.” He smiled some kissing your shoulder.

“I love you like the ocean, your thoughts and it infinitely deep and everchanging.” He kissed your other shoulder.

“I love you like I love stories, complex and an escape from reality.” He kissed your jaw.

“You are my sun, the light of my life.” He kissed your other cheek”

“You’re my rest and comfort” He kissed the tip of your nose, “My first love, not just a meaningless relationship.” He kissed your forehead, “My eyes, seeing the beauty in the world.” He then kissed your eye and smiled as you grinned some, “You are my beauty, something that I adore every day.” He lightly kissed your other eye.

“But most importantly,” Damian paused as you opened your eyes some, “You are my last love, my beloved, and my entire world.” This time he pulled you in for a real kiss, something that felt like it lasted for days or even centuries.

“I love you Damian.” You smiled as he fell back onto the pillow, taking you down with him and holding you closely still to his chest as you literally laid on top of him.

“I love you Y/N.” He smiled running his fingers through your hair and fell asleep quickly after you did.

You awoke from your sleep, light pouring into the bedroom.

“Good morning beloved.” You heard Damian mutter, a smile in his voice now with an accent.

“Good morning Dami.” You replied yawning some.

“Did you sleep well after everything?” He questioned running his fingers through your hair.

“I did, thank you.” You laughed, “That is the last time I watch that movie.”

“I’m glad you’re doing better, it sounded like a terrible thing to see what with now knowing it’s relevancy.” He explained, an arm still wrapped tightly around your waste as he sat up.

You laid in his lap before sitting up, facing him. You were straddling him, your feet pressing against his hips but only because you had socks on. He kissed you lightly smiling into it. You laid your head on his chest and sighed.

“Last night felt like a fever dream.” He chuckled at your comment.

“I assure you beloved, it was not a dream.” Damian said, “The good parts especially weren’t.”

“I’m glad for that.” You smiled, “Anyways, we should probably get breakfast now.”

“But what if we stayed in bed?” He asked.

“What if we quickly ate something and had a relaxing weekend?” You asked.

“That sounds wonderful.” Damian said as you guys got up to head downstairs and start your weekend.

#Damian Wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #Damian Wayne x y/n #dc comics #dc x reader #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #robin x y/n #robin #robin x reader #justice league #for wandering dreamers series

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 5 years ago

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Family and Fantasy

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Y/N finally gets the life she’s been dreaming of with the man she’s in love with but it’s not all it appears.

Warnings: Supernatural typical violence, bad writing as always

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The sun shone brightly on your face, warming your skin, as you leaned against the warm sun-heated Impala. A light breeze rustled through the leaves of the forest that surrounded the clearing you were in and across the field of mixed weeds and flowers. Dean always insisted they were weeds at least; you thought that it was all beautiful.

A large smile spread across your face as you heard the squealing laughter of your three year old son, Marcus, “Daddy stop!” He giggled, Dean chasing him in small circles with a big grin. You watched the two of them run around in the middle of the empty dirt road in front of your home.

“I’m gonna get you!” Dean said, closing in on the little boy, snatching him up in his arms and swinging him around. Laughter filled the air as Dean tossed him in the air and and ran up to you. “Now let’s get Mommy!”

You put your arms up, jokingly shielding yourself as Dean and Marcus came running towards you, Marcus’s hands outstretched. His bright green eyes - his father’s eyes - sparkled with glee. Marcus squealed excitedly. “No!!!” You teased. Suddenly, Dean thrust Marcus into your open arms, “throwing” him at you.

“Got you!” Marcus giggled, throwing his slightly chubby arms around your neck. Dean came up besides you, wrapping his arms around your body and squeezing you and your son into his arms. He kissed the top of your head and you snuggled into his neck, taking in everything. The feeling of his skin against yours, the scent of him and his cologne on his shirt, the slight scratch of his ever-so-slightly scruffy face on your cheek as he nuzzled against you, the squirming of your son as he vied for your attention over Dean. Most importantly, you looked up at Dean and you saw him smile. He actually smiled with genuine happiness and contentment.

You looked up lovingly at him and watched his gaze scan across the scene in front of him: from the luscious green forest around a field mixed with grass and flowers to the dirt road that doubled as your driveway to the large dirt driveway that led to your home then back to your son, who there was no denying was his just by looks. Finally, his gaze drifted down, beautiful green eyes meeting yours as he kissed you gently, “I love you.”

______________

Dean rushed into the motel room excitedly, setting the bags of take-out on the half-broken table. It was a good night. It was his night to take the bed instead of the floor and he had just gotten back from getting a double bacon cheeseburger. What wasn’t to love? “I HAVE PROVIDED!” He announced, throwing his arms in the air triumphantly for doing a basic human task like getting food.

He reached into the large brown paper bag, pulling out his burger before looking pu and noticing that nobody was getting their food. “Don’t all get up at once.” He commented sarcastically, looking at Sam, Cas, Jack, and… oh. That’s what was off. “Where’s Y/N?”

Sam leaned back from his laptop, “Y/N’s not back yet.”

“What do you mean Y/N isn’t back yet?” He asked.

“I mean she isn't back. She left this morning to go check in on the girl we wanted to talk to about the potential case here but she never came back. She stopped responding to my text messages five hours ago. She won’t answer her phone.”

“Maybe her phone died?” Dean suggested, trying to push aside the panic that was rising in his chest.

Cas shrugged, “That’s what we assumed too but she’s been gone for almost twelve hours. Even if her phone did die, she should have been back by now or at least told us she went to go do other things. It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night. And nothing in this town is open past eight as far as I can tell.”

Dean thought for a second, “Okay… so what do we do? Where do we start? What do we know?” He rambled.

“I’m not sure,” Jack started, “But she went to interview someone who knew the vic right? Maybe we should go talk to the girl she interviewed? See if she knows anything?”

Cas nodded, “That would be a good place to start.”

Before Cas even finished agreeing, Dean had the keys pulled out of his pocket and was heading towards the door, “Alright, let’s go.”

__________________

“Excuse me boys but what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You questioned, hands on your hips, as you watched your three year old sitting on the granite kitchen counter next to your husband, both of them looking like a deer in headlights. Marcus quickly ripped his hand out of the pack of cookies he and Dean were sneaking into while Dean continued to look at you, mid-bite into his chocolate chip cookie. They knew they were caught. “I just got back from the store to make dinner! It is not time for cookies!” You exclaimed, not actually mad, just irritated at Dean for spoiling your son’s appetite. It was hard enough getting him to eat his veggies sometimes.

“Daddy! Mommy’s home!” Marcus very obviously scream whispered, panicking.

Dean leaned over, “Yeah, thanks buddy.” You cocked an eyebrow at him. After a second, Dean stood a little straighter, looking at you defiantly and finishing biting into the cookie.

“Dean Winchester! Don’t make me fight you!” You threatened, reaching over to pick Marcus up off the counter.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Dean asked with a smirk and cheesy eyebrow wiggle.

Your eyes widened as you cleared your throat, motioning to the toddler in your arms.

Your husband rolled his eyes, “Awe c’mon, he’s three. He doesn’t know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes back at him, setting Marcus down.

After watching him run into the other room, Dean moved a little closer to you, grabbing your waist and leaning close to you, his scruffiness scratching seductively up your neck, making your knees weak. “So… maybe we can get him to bed early tonight and we can make that a promise?”

______________________

“Hello, Miss. Peyton Wilson?” Sam started, the girl nodding in response, “I’m agent Cole and this is my partner agent Wanek,” He gestured to Dean, “Another agent came by this morning to speak with you about your brother’s death, correct?”

Peyton looked as if she’d been crying for days, her eyes puffy and hair messy, “I already talked to the police. But no, nobody from the FBI came by.”

“No?” Sam asked, fear flashing in his chest, “Okay, well I’m sorry for bothering you so late. We’ll be back tomorrow at a more reasonable time to speak with you about the incident. Have a good night.”

“So she never made it here?” Dean thought out loud as they walked towards the impala where Jack and Cas were.

From the back, Cas said, concerned, “Then she’s been missing for longer than we thought.”

“So where do we start then?” Dean asked, needing something productive to be said. He felt like they weren’t getting anywhere.

In the backseat, a thought occurred to Jack, “What if whatever we’re hunting here got Y/N too?”

Dean groaned, “Then we better find whatever it is fast. We don’t even know for sure what we’re hunting. But whatever it is, it’s not good and she probably doesn’t have much time.”

“Three known victims so far, all completely drained of blood. So we’re down to… what? A vamp or a djinn?” Sam thought through before sighing, “Either way, it’s not good.”

“And where’s the nest then?” Cas asked.

Out across the dark, rainy street, what looked like a teenage girl walking down the sidewalk caught Sam’s attention. She walked straight ahead, shielding herself from the rain by pulling her coat over her head. Sam watched, noticing that she kept glancing behind her nervously. “Hey, guys…” Sam mentioned, drawing everyone’s attention to the young girl who was quickly looking more and more scared. The girl completely stopped, looking around and taking out her earbuds when suddenly a man appeared out of the bushes next to her. Within less than a second, his eyes glowed a bright blue, illuminating his heavily tattooed body, and he snatched her into the bushes, the both of them disappearing silently.

All four of the men jumped out of the car, rushing towards where the girl and djinn just stood. “I guess we know which one it is now.” As they approached where they were, they couldn’t find where they went. Dean rustled the leaves around, trying to figure out where the djinn could have possibly taken the girl. That’s when he saw the opening behind the bush.

“Right here guys!” He announced, ripping away the branches and diving straight into the tunnel, gun drawn. It was dark and entirely concrete, walls, floor, ceiling, and all. Water leaked from cracks in the ceiling, small weeds peeping through the seams between slabs on cement. The tunnel itself only went about fifteen feet in before opening into a medium sized room lit only by the sporadic, nearly-burnt out candle.

Dean cautiously scanned the room, nodding his head silently to let the other three men know it was clear. They all entered, guns readied. Broken furniture littered the room except for the occasional mostly intact couch or table. The men spread around the room, each looking in different areas for either the man or the girl he took or (preferably) you.

Jack followed along one wall, seeing a hallway that led off to the right. He rounded the corner, gasping when he saw the scene in front of him. Across the room, he saw a row of people strung up by rope around their wrists, feet barely touching the floor (not that it mattered considering they hung limp and unconscious anyways.) There were three people in total: one older gentleman, a younger man- the one who’s disappearance drew you all to the town in the first place, and you. Each of you were hooked up to an IV system, deep red blood flowing from your arms into a bag that hung next to each of your bodies. “Dean! Sam! Cas!” Jack yelled, alerting the others.

______________________________

You couldn’t help the slight quiver in your legs or the flutter in your chest as Dean’s lips dipped below your jaw and just behind your ear, knowing every spot on your body that made you weak. His rough hands gently crept under your shirt, calloused fingers resting on your soft skin, as he pinned your body between his hips and the granite kitchen counter. You tilted your head, giving him better access to exactly where you wanted him. A whimper escaped your lips as he sank his teeth into your delicate skin before soothing over it with his tongue.

“Do you realize how beautiful you are?” He asked, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes with all the love and adoration that they held five years ago when you first fell in love.

Gosh, the way this man made you feel. He had the power to make you feel like the strongest most badass woman in the world but he could also make you feel like the most beautiful, loved person on the planet.

“Do you realize how much I love you?” You responded, hoping your eyes conveyed the exact same message his did. Before he could respond, you pulled him close to you, hand resting on his neck before craning your mouth back up to meet his in a fiery kiss. Dean’s large hands trailed down from your hips to your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter. He quickly closed the gap between you, hips coming flush with you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips as you pulled him impossibly closer, earning a grunt from Dean as the bulge in his jeans rubbed against your clothed core.

Your lips still crashed passionately as his hand snaked around your lower back and he leaned forward, catching you off guard as you suddenly found yourself leaning back. Before you could lie all the way down, your hands shot out in panic, trying to catch yourself in a momentary panic despite the fact that Dean had you supported the whole time. In your panic, you accidentally knocked a small pile of books off the counter and they came crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

You and Dean both froze, listening for Marcus to see if he woke up. After it was decided it was safe, you giggled at your mishap. Dean looked down at you and poked your sides in humorous aggression, “Gotta be quiet princess or you’ll wake him up! It’s already been so long.” He growled the last part, diving back into your neck, trailing hot kisses down into your cleavage and across your breasts, pulling your tank top down further to expose your supple skin. His teeth grazed over the tender flesh pulling a whimper from your lips.

“You sound so sweet princess.” Ohhh that nickname. It really did things to you. His hands came up to massage your breasts , pulling your shirt and bra down, completely exposing you, and you found yourself arching your back into his rough palms. “You have no idea how badly I’ve missed this.” He groaned in your ear, grinding his hips into your heat and you could feel everything.

“I’m pretty sure I have an idea.” You teased, your words broken by breathy moans. Slowly, he moved his left hand from your breast and down to your heat, massaging you through your shorts.

“Oh Dean-” You moaned in ecstasy.

_______________________________

“Dean…” You groaned quietly.

“I’m here! I’m here Y/N. C’mon wake up.” Dean told you, panicked, as he and Sam ran over to you. Dean checked your pulse while Sam whipped out his knife and began sawing through the ropes that held you up. It didn’t take long to cut all the rope and your weight crashed into Dean’s arms. He gently lied you on the ground, kneeling over you.

“He’s dead. Is she okay?” Cas asked, looking over from his own work of cutting down the elderly gentleman.

“She’s alive.” Dean announced, “C’mon Y/N, wake up!” He shook you slightly. Gosh, you were so pale and your skin was cold and clammy. Your lips were chapped and he could’ve sworn they were almost purple. His eyes trailed down to where the IV was and he quickly removed the tape, gently removing the catheter from your arm, blood squirting down your arm from the lack of pressure. “Jack! Help!”

Jack quickly ran over to you and swiped his hand over your body. His eyes glowed bright amber and a warm energy flowed from his hands into your body, stopping the bleeding in your arm and trailing up. As he worked his way up, you slowly regained some color and your breathing became more regular.

Before he could finish though, Sam yelled, grunting as he was tackled to the ground by a man. Jack stopped and stood quickly, his attention turning to Sam who was being attacked by the same man that had taken the girl earlier that night. The man choked Sam, his hands gripping tightly around his throat. “Jack-” He choked out, hands trying to pry the man’s grip off. As Sam met his eyes though he noticed them glow bright blue and saw the tattoos all over his body do the same and Sam knew right away what he was dealing with.

With a flick of his wrist, the man was thrown off Sam by some invisible force and sent crashing into the cement walls. Sam rolled over, gasping and coughing loudly, managing to croak out, “It’s a djinn!”

The tattooed monster didn’t stay down for long though and before the boys knew it, he was back up. The djinn rushed towards Castiel, who turned soon enough to take a blunt tackle to the chest. He found himself pinned against the wall. Cas struggled hard against the pressure but the djinn wasn’t budging. Again, he glowed bright blue and brought his fingers up to Castiel’s forehead. When he did, Cas’s eyes glowed as well and he stared off as if he were in a trance.

Before the djinn’s magic was completely though, Sam rushed up from behind, running him through with the angel blade. His blue glow flickered before completely dimming and he crashed to the ground. Cas fell as well but quickly regained consciousness, the djinn’s magic having not worked entirely.

“Jack!” Dean hissed, snapping a distracted Jack back to his previous job of healing you.

“Right!” Jack knelt back down next to you and ran his hands over your still body. Slowly, you began moving again, even if only a little.

Suddenly, your eyes shot open as you gasped and sat up, nearly knocking Dean’s head with yours. You leaned back against your hands as you gasped, looking around at your surroundings.

How the hell did you get here? What happened? Where were you? Two seconds ago you were in your very happy home, doing very very pleasant things with your husband when suddenly you were jolted to wherever the hell this was. You really thought you were done with all that hunter stuff…

“Y/N?!” A familiar voice gasped, “You’re okay! We’ve got you!”

You looked over to see Dean crouching next to you but this wasn’t your Dean. This was the Dean you’d first started dating back when you were hunters. “What’s going on?” You asked, looking around frantically. Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jack all stood around you with worried looks on their faces.

“You were taken by a djinn,” Cas explained, turning to the boys, “Her confusion is probably caused by suddenly being jerked from whatever fantasy he had her in.”

Fantasy. That was just a fantasy? “It all felt so real.” You sighed sadly to yourself. You wanted that to be real so badly.

Dean took your hand gently, “Believe me, I know. I’ve been zapped in by one of those suckers too.”

“Let’s get her back to the hotel.” Sam suggested.

Everyone nodded in agreement and Dean reached down to help you up. The second his skin touched yours, your heart sped up and you gasped, still feeling hot from his touch in your dream. Dean noticed and looked at you with a concerned expression, “You okay?”

You nodded hurriedly, avoiding eye contact with him. It was all too weird. You’d been in love with the man for months and you finally had everything you’d dreamed of. You’d been with him in ways you could only imagine being with him in real life and now it was as if none of it had happened. Because none of it had.

“I can do it.” You stated, pushing yourself up with wobbly arms. They were still sore despite the fact that your wounds had been healed.

Together, the five of you made your way out of the room you were in, along with the girl they’d saved. Once outside, you made quick work of making the scene look like a typical kidnapping-murder. Dean called it in to the police that you’d all been working with as FBI and told them that you’d found the victims.

As soon as all of that was done, you’d gotten in the Impala and made your way back to the motel. Everyone noticed you were uncharacteristically quiet but chose not to push it. They had no clue what hallucination you were stuck in.

But Jack, of course, with his child-like naivety and thirst for learning looked at you innocently in the backseat, “So you were stuck in a dream?” He asked.

You nodded, trying to hide the sadness, “Apparently so.”

“And he was feeding off of your blood while keeping you trapped in a dream?” He pressed, innocent curiosity all over his face.

“Yes, Jack.” You stated simply, really not wanting to explain all of this right now. It wasn’t as if you’d just been strung up and drained of your blood all day or anything.

He shifted in his seat to look at you, “So what did you dream about?”

You stopped, unsure what to say. Silently, you looked up to the front seat to look at Dean, hoping with every fiber of your being that maybe that dream was some premonition, “It actually wasn’t bad,” You explained with a small smile, “It was everything I’ve wanted my life to be for a long time.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad way to die,” Jack commented, “Y’know, stuck in a perfect dream world where you can’t feel yourself slowly being murdered.”

You cringed a little at the way he explained it, especially since he did it with his boy-like smile. “I guess you’re right, Jack.” You chuckled.

“Well now that you saw your perfect life, maybe you can work on making it real!” He chirped excitedly.

Again, your eyes found their attention on Dean and the way the moonlight and headlights highlighted his features in the night and the way he occasionally peeked back at you to make sure you were okay. How could a girl not fall for him? “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” You said with a smile. Maybe he was.

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagines #djinn

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asterekmess · 4 years ago

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S3A - E3

Hiya, back with another episode of the rewatch. I am...not looking forward to this episode. *deep breath* here we go.