#I’m tired of being in the grips of the rat race here

[faffreux]

when I got 2 days in a row off coming up

[mcl4r3n]

dando + 2? 👀

“Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

This got way longer than I intended so I'm putting this under the cut!

List of prompts here :3

---

Daniel doesn't get Lando sometimes. Given, it's tough to adjust to new teammates. But it's been six months of being partnered up with Lando and Daniel still keeps feeling like all he does is take missteps around him.

He thought that they were getting somewhere, honestly. He's done his best. Is it jarring to not be instant friends with Lando? Yeah, fuck, he can admit that to himself.

But he thought that doing things like trying to invite him out for dinner, just—fucking, finding common ground considering that Daniel doesn't give a flying rat's ass about golf or gaming, would maybe help some.

It's bad enough that he can't get to grips with the car, and that his race engineer can barely remember his fucking name most days. he needs someone in his corner, and for some reason, his brain has decided to latch on to the one person who seems most adamant about not wanting to be his friend.

The thing is that this dinner, where he's taken Lando to one of his favorite little spots in Monaco to celebrate Lando's podium, was going along pretty nicely up until just a minute ago.

He decided early on that maybe coming out to Lando would help put him in his good graces—to show that he trusts him, to show something there was more to Daniel than just joking around and racing, maybe.

So he tells Lando a few little anecdotes about his attempts at dating since Lando asked, and he's in the middle of talking about this one guy who, well, hasn't been that great, really, but he's nice enough, even if he sometimes gives Daniel shit for his very busy schedule.

(The NDA Blake had to draw up for him had to be airtight. It was a whole thing.)

But now Lando's got this pinched expression on his face, and Daniel kind of breaks.

"Okay, Norris Lando, what gives?" Daniel finally asks.

It feels like he's about to fall apart, like every little hurt he's squirreled away inside the box in his head marked "do not open" is about to explode.

"Are you—like, is all of this making you uncomfortable? Why are you mad?” Daniel asks. He feels a little helpless, which is never a feeling he enjoys.

Lando's expression shifts, his eyebrows shooting up.

"What?"

Daniel puts his beer down, sighs, rests his forehead on his hand. he's so tired, all of a sudden. It's been a shit season, a shit year, and all he wanted to do was be Lando's fucking friend.

"You're—you're looking at me like—mate, I don't even know. You asked me about my dating life and so I decided to share it with you and now you're looking at me like I pissed in your drink, so what fucking gives? Why are you mad at me?"

Lando's face colours, and then he looks away. Daniel watches him, watches the way his breathing changes, the way the blush creeps high onto his cheeks.

“I’m not mad," Lando says quietly. He fiddles with the straw in his iced tea, already so diluted all the ice has gone. "I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

"Oh yeah, why, are you offering?" Daniels asks before he can stop himself. He's kind of had it with Lando. Had it with the attitude and the cold shoulders and the fucking—whatever this is.

Lando looks at him sharply, then, before he frowns, and then looks away again.

"I—" he starts. He swallows. He takes a shuddering breath.

Daniel's heart hammers an entire drumbeat against his ribcage. He's not quite sure what's happening here, but his body's decided that it's high time to panic.

"Just forget about it," Lando says. "Please, can we just forget about it—"

"No, what—mate, I don't know what the fuck is going on right now, and I don't understand what you have against me, just fucking talk to me, it's all I've wanted you to do all year," Daniel finally says.

He exhales. He can't believe that this is all boiling over now.

They were supposed to be celebrating Lando's P3. Daniel swallowed his pride to take him out, instead of staying at home to mope around over his P12 finish.

And finally, Lando looks at him again and his eyes are pleading.

"I'm—I'm sorry, DR," he says quietly. "I'm sorry I've been a cunt."

Daniel lets out a little tch between his teeth. He's not exactly sure what else there is to say, after that.

"It's—you don't know how hard it is to be in your shadow, and to like you so much," Lando says. Which. What?

What the fuck?

"Like me? Coulda fooled me there, mate."

Lando's picked up the paper that his straw was sheathed in earlier and now he's twisting it over and over in his fingers like a nervous tick.

"I like you more than you can even imagine, Danny," Lando replies, his eyes downcast. "I've been trying to—fix it. Stop it. So I've just. . . sort of swung in the opposite direction to try to—" he shrugs, and Daniel's entire body feels like it's about to dissolve into ash. "To get over you. But hearing you just fucking—settling like that when—when there are so many other people who could treat you well. It just."

Lando swallows audibly, and finally looks up.

"I'd never give you shit for your busy schedule," he continues. "But then again, we'd have the same one so, it wouldn't be an issue. Y'know. In a hypothetical situation where you did actually see me as more than just—" Lando waves his hand around aimlessly in the air. "Whatever. A kid. Your teammate."

Daniel feels completely unmoored, but also like fucking laughing at the ridiculousness of this entire conversation.

"You—you're telling me you like me? Like, like that? You've spent most of this year being prickly and mean and now you're telling me you like me, and you also want me to stop seeing you like a kid?"

Lando looks so caught out at that, so shocked by it, that Daniel knows he needs to fix this before he screws up even worse.

He reaches out and takes Lando's wrist in his hands, feels the hummingbird pulse there, ten kilometers a minute. Warm, of course, just like how Daniel feels right now.

"Hey, hey," Daniel says. "Can we maybe start with friends first, and see where that takes us?"

His heart feels like a hummingbird too, now.

Lando gives him a small, hesitant smile. "You don't hate me?"

Daniel feels every tense muscle leave him.

"Of course not," Daniel replies, relief and hope blooming inside his chest now. "Couldn't even if I tried, and boy, did I try. Actually I think you were better at that than I was, by the looks of it."

Lando kicks him under the table, but Daniel barely feels it. He just grins instead, and true enough, Lando smiles back.

[lucygraysboy]

“because you only want to talk about your feelings now, and we’ve known each other for years. we’ve had all the time in the world, but you’re only coming to me today because i’m finally putting myself first,” the cowboy barks, jaw setting as her fingertip crashes into his sternum. he’s quick to grasp her dainty wrist, his grip careful as not to hurt her but firm. “you know what i think, lucy gray? i think you like having me around because i’m always available. whatever you need and whenever you need it, i’m always here for you, and you don’t want anything to change.” frankly, he doesn’t want anything to change either, but it has to. after what happened between them in her parents’ driveway, there’s no going back to being best friends. they can either move forward, which he’s certain she doesn’t want to do and will never try to convince her otherwise and make her unhappy, such feelings can’t be forced, or go separate ways. “can you, please, stop blaming jesse for everything? i’m not his puppet or something. this is my life and my decisions,” he insists, rolling his eyes because this conversation feels all too familiar. he could tell her the truth about how he hasn’t felt the same since his ma passed away, how being around jesse and the others, drinking and partying with them, keeps his mind occupied and for a night he forgets about all that ache and anger that every molecule in his body seems to be built of. but his chest squeezes so tight it hurts every time he thinks about opening up like this, letting her see him at his most vulnerable when not so long ago she put a knife straight through his heart. 

“you don’t get to say things like that to me, lucy gray. it sounds like you’re trying to guilt me into staying, using my brother just to make me feel bad about chasing my dreams.” it’s cruel of her to hit below the belt and drag his little brother into this, as though billy hadn’t already been worrying about the same thing — abandoning joe, leaving him not only motherless but also brother-less to some extent. “if you want to save horses’ lives, that’s very noble and honestly? good for you if that could make you happy. i don’t want to waste my youth on this place.” and as for family, he’s only got joe now. his ma’s gone, there’s little love left between him and his stepfather, and lucy gray no longer counts as family. “if you truly want all that, go for it. you’re amazing with horses, great with children and you really would make a fantastic teacher. i’m tired of how predictable life on this ranch is… yeah, mundane is a good word.” there’s a long silence after that, his throat bobs as he swallows. his voice is a hoarse, growly whisper, “clearly, the problem’s just me.” his heart races and his soul feels like it’s on the verge of falling to pieces at her feet, but his body refuses to crack, tense and cold as though it was made of stone. 

“something! oh, i bet now you’ll make all kinds of promises and say whatever it is that you think i want to hear from you, just to keep me from leaving, just to make both of us so very miserable. it’s what you’ve been doing this past year, but sure, i’m the asshole all because i’ve grown and matured and don’t want to play this game anymore,” he swallows a jagged, fist-sized lump that’s formed in his throat, and still can barely get the words out. he runs his fingers through his dark curls, glancing up at the sky so that he doesn’t have to watch her walk away, but that’s when a bunch of tiny stones rains down on him and he flinches, head snapping in her direction. “have you completely lost your mind?” it doesn’t hurt, not physically but emotionally it surely takes a toll on him. his best friend, the girl he’s loved all his life, trying to chase him away like he’s some wild animal, a coyote or a rat. the next thing that hits his torso is a bunch of colorful bracelets, he immediately recognizes the objects because they used to make bracelets like those when they were younger, and he can’t help but stride toward her. his boots crushing the tiny beads as he walks over the handmade jewelry, all by accident. tears are clouding his vision now and he can barely see her, let alone what’s scattered on the ground. he reaches for her but she turns away and starts running, slipping out of his grasp. he can’t find his voice to call out after her, his heart shatters for the second and final time, falls into some bottomless pit made of nothing but despair and grief. the stinging in his nose, the weight in his chest, the pressure behind his eyes. it hits him like a tidal wave and before he knows it, he’s dragged under. he falls to his knees, tears rolling down his cheeks and cries like a baby.

when he finally opens his eyes after what feels like hours, when the sun’s already sunk beneath the horizon and the sky’s turned red and purple, lucy gray’s gone but he can still feel her everywhere.

"no wonder, cause you're makin' it all about you and not givin' me a SECOND to explain it or talk about my own feelings." she jabbed her finger deep into his chest, that the reason she just froze when that moment happened, a horrible fear of losing him if they became more had taken over in the heat of the moment. was she not allowed to be scared of it? but why does it matter now, he just put a dagger through a once inseparable bond between them himself. "what do you mean you started changin' into a different person a long time ago? what i think... you've just hung around your asshole friends for too long. y'know, jesse and the other useless ones. goin' to detention all the time, getting in trouble. and drinkin' like them, too. now you're even actin' JUST like jesse, too." another thing to dawn on her, that's where he must be getting this ugly attitude from. it seemed so familiar to them.

"yeah, just leavin' your little brother behind too." luckily, he'll still have her and maude ivory to be around. but how awful, he seemed to care less about that factor as well. "that's not what i remember. they weren't just little girl dreams for me. and no, i don't." she gritted her teeth, "i happen to love life the way it is. you make savin' lives of horses sound so pointless, you really are just like jesse now. maybe i still want to take care of horses, be with my family, maybe even be a teacher one day and sing with the covey on the weekends. just because all the mundane things in life are pointless to you now, because you want to act like jesse now, doesn't mean i've changed like you and find everything around me so inferior." what was wrong with wanting a normal life? where did he suddenly develop a stuck up attitude from?

"town's got nothin' to do with it, not a damn thing to do with it. life is what you make it, maybe the problem's just you. suddenly bein' the most cynical person I KNOW." which was more ways that was unlike him, if this is who he wanted to change into, she didn't want to know him anymore anyway. "i did, though!" she blurts. have interest, but that... that made her brain lose all sanity, him accusing her of playing 'GAMES'. "i never played any games, I'M not the phony YOU'VE been all these years. i came over here in the first place to tell you something." that she made her mind up, that she came to apologize for making it seem like she didn't love him back when it was the entire opposite.

"but nevermind all of it since you got no INTEREST in what i have to say, ASSHOLE." repeating what he just said to her a few seconds ago, those asshole words of him shoving off what she had to say. for that she'll never tell him what she was afraid to that night then, since that's what he wishes for. he can just think about it and guess what she was going to for the REST of his life as she bends down to clutch gravels into her palms and throws the pile of small rocks at him. "leave!" it was his land, but she wanted him to get out of her sight before she did worse than throw gravels at his torso and legs. she will do worse. the rage striking through her being and pain made her temples feel like they were going to burst out of her skull as she dug into her yellow sundress pockets, throwing the bracelets she made for him initially as an apology at him next, unclasping the heart locket around her neck that had the picture of them as little kids inside of it to lastly throw because she didn't want it anymore after having it all these years. the person in the picture didn't exist anymore. what good was it? but realized a second later she didn't want him to have the advantage to see her starting to cry as the tears started pouring over tanned cheeks, so lucy gray turned anyway and started running up the long haul back to her home. the same field she'd been running up and down for years, made the tears burn harder and pour faster, suffocation taking over her chest– that this would be the last time she did. everything she'd known was over. the heat lightning and a brewing thunderstorm rumbling in the sky somewhere in the distance while the sun still hung over them was relevant to the storm that was destructing her mind right now. she lost the only person she only ever loved and didn't know if she'd make it all the way home without crying uncontrollably at the loss of her entire life. he was her entire life and it ended so abruptly, how was she supposed to move on and just be the same? she'd never trust another person again.

[2dmenenthusiast]

"Say it again."

(John Seed x Deputy Gn!Reader)

Ahahah heeeeey long time no fic. So, first thing first, I have a job now, yay. which takes up a lot of my time, along with, ya know, being an unmotivated wreck. But I finally gathered enough to come out with another angsty piece for this rat of a man. So I hope ya'll enjoy!

ALSO!!! This is a companion piece to THIS fic. So please read it first before continuing

Reblogs are always encouraged and appreciated!

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: after saving you, John brings up what he asked you all those years ago

Warnings/other info: angst, swearing, nearly drowning, gender neutral reader

You’ve never heard of drowning to be a pleasant death. You’ve heard it described as chilling, nerve numbing, limbs thrashing and fingers grasping at nothing as water filled your lungs. And it was like that, for a moment. A moment of panicked desperation as you tried to will your tired body to swim back to the surface, but your arms and legs felt like they had been filled with cement, stones in your chest as you watched bubbles float. How you wished to be a bubble. Light and so easily rising towards the surface of the water.

And then, you were calm. No air left to escape you as black started creeping in at the edges of your vision and your body slowly sank to the bottom of the laker. A peggie crashing his plane into yours wasn’t something you anticipated. But among the chaos and destruction happening from the cult, maybe this wasn’t the worst way to die.

But there was suddenly a rushing in your ears, your body heavy and something jagged digging into your back. You could feel pressure on your face and chest, and your eyes shot open as you violently coughed up water, gasping for air. There was a soft mutter of your name, muffled by the water clogged in your ears, and you blindly reached out only for fingers to tightly grasp your hand. You tried to blink away the water in your eyes, too tired to tell if they were tears or if it was from the river, but when your vision finally cleared, you wished you were back in the water.

“John?”

He looked down at you, gaze full of concern as he reached a shaking hand out to carefully wipe the droplets of water off of your face. You slightly flinched at his touch, not expecting it to be so gentle, but he didn’t waver. His grip on your hand tightened, and as you got a better understanding of your surroundings, you realized he had moved you onto to rocky river bank, your body partially resting in his lap, and you found yourself unintentionally seeking out his warmth. John hurriedly took off his coat, gently shifting you so that he could wrap it around your body and pulled it tight around your shoulders, enveloping you in his arms and holding you tight against his chest.

If you were in any right state of mind, you would’ve realized that there was something very wrong with this scenario, but right now, you couldn’t care less. John was warm, comforting, and your shivers became less violent as you slowly relaxed in his hold.

“I’ll kill them. I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill them,” you heard him say between clenched teeth, and you just buried your head further into his chest.

You could hear his heart racing, pounding against his chest. And as you absentmindedly stared at the small white planes that decorated his coat, you couldn’t help but wonder if that reaction was because of you.

“Can you stand?”

You stared up at him for a moment, your brain trying to catch up as you slowly processed what he said. Shifting your gaze to your legs, you miraculously found the strength to move them, bending your knees as John carefully helped you stand. Your legs were weak underneath you, just barely holding yourself up, and John let you lean against him as he wrapped an arm around your waist and had you wrap your arm around his shoulders for stability.

“John, I-”

“Don’t talk. I’m gonna get you outta here, okay?”

You nodded, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, but it was getting harder and harder to do that when your vision started to fade again. John noticed how your body grew heavier against him, and you heard muffled cries of your name as you blacked out again.

***

“I don’t know what you want me to say, John. We just have to wait. There’s nothing else we can do for them-”

“There has to be something!”

“... Why did you bring them here anyway? Wouldn’t it be better for Eden’s Gate if they were dead?”

“... What did you just say to me?”

BAM!

You woke with a start, body jolting as you let out a gasp. Frantically looking around, you noticed you were in a bedroom, the walls a dull grey color and the bedsheets stark white. Your grip on the sheets loosened, the material scratchy underneath your fingers as you took a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart. Although, it was sort of hard to do that when you quickly realized why the cement walls and the white bedding looked so familiar. You were in John's bunker.

You jolted when the metal door loudly screeched open, John standing at the entrance of the room with a tray of food in his hands and his lips quirked up in a small smile. You backed up into the metal headboard, springs squeaking under your weight as he moved closer to you and sat down in the chair next to the bed. He carefully placed the tray on the bedside table, and you glanced at it to see a bowl of soup and a piece of bread, along with a glass of water. It actually looked kind of appetizing.

“How are you feeling?”

Your brows tightly knitted, eyes searching John’s expression before glancing over at the water. He followed your gaze and quickly handed you the glass, and you hesitantly took it from him before bringing it up to your lips. The second the water went down your throat, you desperately gulped the rest of it down, the youngest Seed sibling watching you with an amused expression on his face before you sheepishly handed the empty glass back to him.

“You should eat, too.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He didn’t answer at first, grabbing the bowl of soup and moving to hand it to you, but you quickly swiped it out of his hands, the bowl shattering and soup splattering on the floor as you moved to kneel on the bed.

“Why are you doing this?! Why are you helping me?!” He didn’t answer, just staring at you as rage and confusion bubbled up inside of you, and it just made you angrier, unaware of the tears streaming down your face. “I should be dead at the bottom of the lake! Why did you save me?! Answer me!”

John’s hands were suddenly grabbing your face, causing you to let out a gasp as you sat back on your shins to try and get some distance, but he just followed you, moving closer the farther you moved back. You grabbed at his wrists, trying to pry his hands away, but the look in his eyes made you pause. 

“You don’t understand. You… It’s not your time yet.”

He seemed almost desperate, his eyes wild as he tried to get you to understand, to see where he was coming from. He was right, you didn’t understand. This whole time, the cult has been on your ass from the very beginning. Ambushing you when you least expected it, filling you with holes that the people holding out at the prison had to stitch up. You were supposed to be dead. It would’ve been a relief to the cult to finally have you gone. So why were you here?

You hesitantly met John’s stare, each inhale and exhale shaky as a lump that you couldn’t swallow formed in your throat. You opened your mouth to speak, but you choked on whatever words you wanted to say, and a sympathetic look took over John’s features.

“That lady from before,” John visibly tensed, the muscles in his jaw clenching, “She was right. It would be better for Eden’s Gate if I was dead. I’m sure… everyone would agree.”

John moved to sit on the bed next to you, finally releasing his hold on your cheeks, but he sat so close his thigh was pressed against yours. His fingers slowly reached up to brush against your jaw, and you flinched at the dull pain. Right, the crash probably left you with some cuts and bruises.

“There are so many things you have yet to realize. So many-”

“God, cut the cult speech, John. Eden’s Gate has made their intentions towards me perfectly clear. And I thought I had an idea of yours too. But…” 

You let out a sigh, standing up on trembling legs, and John reached out in case he needed to steady you. You were able to make it a few steps on your own, feeling more confident as you slowly began to pace.

“Fuck, you are the most confusing man I’ve ever met! You-You send your Chosen after me, your peggies with their fucking bliss bullets. I just-” Your legs started feeling tingly, so you plopped back down on the bed next to John and leaned over to put your head in your hands, letting out a sigh. “I… don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Your words came out more unsteady than you wanted them to, bottom lip quivering as you clenched your teeth to try and stop yourself from crying again.

God, you’re so fucking stupid.

You felt John’s hand on your back, his small attempt to soothe you as you tried not to break down in this prison-like room. You felt so fucking pathetic, crying in front of John fucking Seed. You quickly sucked in a breath and wiped away your tears, hands digging into your eyes as you felt frustration creep up inside you.

You needed to get out of here

***

A few days had passed, and you were quickly starting to get your strength back, able to walk around and keep up a good pace without feeling like your legs were going to give out on you. John had visited you every day, bringing you food and sitting with you as you ate. You didn’t know what his intentions were, but his company was unsettling rather than comforting.You felt like he was eyeing your every move, gaze following your hand as you lifted a spoonful of soup up to your lips. You let out a sigh, spoon clattering in the bowl as you roughly tossed it.

“What’s your angle?” He didn’t answer, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. The simple movement only seemed to frustrate you more. “Are you ever gonna let me go? Are you gonna kill me? Are you going to fucking answer me?!”

Rather than answering, he just stood and held out his hand to you. You’re eyes shifted between his hand and his face, rolling your eyes before brushing it away and standing from the bed.

“I’ve known you for a while, John. This whol aloof thing you’re trying to pull doesn’t suit you.”

John hummed in amusement, lips twitching up in a small smile before he pressed a hand against the small of your back and gently encouraged you forward. “Walk with me.”

Deciding not to question him, you stepped out of your room and walked down the dimly lit hall with him at your side, peggies sending you glances as they passed. 

What-the-fuck-ever.

“Nervous, Deputy?” John said.

You slightly winced at the title, turning your head so he wouldn’t see it. Deputy. Jesus christ, it sounded so formal and awkward when he said it. Like he was trying to distance himself by depersonalizing you. Like he didn’t used to know the most intimate parts of you, knew your deepest secrets and desires. Like he didn’t used to love you. You cleared your throat of the lump currently forming in it.

“No. More like unsettled. They don’t have anything better to do than stare at me?”

“Don’t you know? You’re famous, Deputy.”

You scoffed. “More like infamous.”

The both of you quickly reached the entrance to the bunker, the sun almost blinding as you blinked rapidly to get used to it. Standing here, looking at the sun filtering through the trees with John by your side, you couldn’t help but wonder how the hell you ever wound up here. How every decision you’ve made could’ve led you to this very moment. Oh, how different things would be if you never became junior deputy, if you said yes to John’s offer. Maybe… maybe you could’ve stopped him.

You felt his hand brush against yours, and you couldn’t help the melancholy feeling that settled in your chest. You remember when his touch was warm and loving. Now, it was cold, and stiff. You supposed John always had a certain coolness about him. When he was some rich, hotshot lawyer who could afford anything he wanted. But now, it seemed all those small quirks of his, the things that made him jaded, and sometimes ruthless, had overtaken him. His love for you was replaced with the hate his brother instilled in him, and it made you sick.

Reaching out, you wrapped your hand around John’s bicep, fingers squeezing as your eyes stung.

“You know, I find it completely unfair that you have this- fuck, this ridiculous hold over me.” John turned to you, quickly noticing the tears bordering your eyes. “I hear your voice, see your face, or god, you touch me, and I feel like I’m suffocating. You torture my friends, you kill without remorse. I’m supposed to fucking hate you.” You choked on a sob, “But I can’t. How fucking sick is that?”

John gently placed his hand on your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek to wipe away your tears, and you hated the way you leaned into his touch. It almost reminded you of how he used to touch you, and you craved it desperately despite everything inside you telling you not to.

“You make me sick, John Seed. Fuck, you fucking digust me!” You slapped his hand away, pushing against his chest. “How could I have ever loved you when this is the man you became? HOW CAN I STILL LOVE YOU!?”

There was a split second where you felt air rush by you, and John was back in front of you, hands cradling your jaw and lifting your head so you were looking him in his eyes. It felt like all your breath had escaped you at once.

“... Say it again.”

You let out a shuddered breath, and whispered: “I love you.”

A smile slowly formed on John’s face as he searched your eyes, chuckling in disbelief before his lips were on yours. You sucked in a breath as you threw your arms around his shoulders and squeezed your eyes shut, barely able to believe what was happening. Your fingers quickly found themselves in his hair, mussing up his perfectly slicked back strands. There was a certain desperateness to his kiss, one that had your lips tingling and swollen, and your chest heaving for breath when he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours. He softly muttered your name, and your heart dropped to your stomach. You knew what he was going to say.

“Please. Please don’t ask me.” you whispered.

“Deputy-”

“Please, John. God, please don’t. I can’t. I can’t”

“Sweetheart-” You shook your head as John lifted it to look at you, tears rolling down your face. “Please. Just… say yes.”

Your teeth clenched together as you sobbed freely, collapsing against John’s chest, and he held your trembling body. You wanted nothing more than to be at the bottom of the lake.

[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer​ 

[moral-turpitudes]

Burnt Toast:

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst.

Word Count: 4,226

Characters: Polly Gray + The Shelby Siblings x Shelby!Sister Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @atjafshelby​, I hope you like it love!

Summary: After seeing her family turn to a life of crime, one incident causes Y/N to finally leave Small Heath in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the Shelby name. But when the family makes a sudden appearance after years of no contact, she soon realizes she’s not the only one with news to bear.

“Kids! Breakfast is ready!” Shouted Y/N from the kitchen, the smell of toast and crackling bacon snaking it’s way through the two story town house in the middle of suburban Manhattan. The sight of the meal reminding her of home when she’d help cook, practicing her craft until she rarely made burnt toast. The voice of her aunt telling her how long to toast it so it would be perfect, even if the family eating it was far from so.

As she prepared the table, the scurrying of little feet pattering away on the floorboards filled the room as they sprinted down the lavish hall. Giggles erupting as two bright eyed girls climbed into their seats.

“Now girls, you both have to get ready quickly today alright? I have some errands to run.” Y/N said, placing a mug of coffee in front of herself. Heavy footsteps came trotting down the stairs as her husband, a man of status in the banking industry, waltzed into the room.

“Morning love. I have to go in early today. Are you sure you and the girls are okay?” He asked, adjusting his tie.

“Yes, I’m going to take them with me. I have some...personal matters to attend to.” She said, her tone dropping slightly as the girls played with their food.

“I know plenty of children back home who’d love to eat what you’re playing with, now stop it...” She said sternly, memories of her mother swatting her hand when she’d go to eat with her fingers instead of the silverware.

“Is it your family again?” He asked, brushing a stray hair from her face as he sat down next to her.

“Yes.” She said, taking a sip of her coffee as her hands shook, the anxiety of ever seeing them again gnawing at her brain.

It seemed like only yesterday that it happened. Her younger brothers running out of the old shop in Small Heath to go on a another mission after their fathers business had been left on their shoulders after the war. The sight later that night making her swear off violence all-together.

Her younger brothers had a knack for messing with the wrong people, even before the war changed them. John was the feisty one, always rough-housing with the boys and bullies on the streets, always pestering her and Ada as they chased rats through town. “I’m trying to help you defend yourself sis! Don’t be such a baby!” He’d say after tackling her to the ground where she’d cry and hesitate to fight back, Ada always punching him in the shoulder to stop as their aunt Polly would come running out of the house with the Devil in her eyes.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, Y/N. Too sweet to be a Shelby.” Polly would say while bandaging any cuts or scrapes.

“You sure as hell didn’t get it from your father...” She’d say, looking at the oldest Shelby girl with a mixture of awe and pity. Y/N resembled her mother more often than not, her temper only shining through in certain situations. But she never thought she’d lose it like she did that night.

It was the night of her first real date, Polly helping brush her hair as she flipped through an old book she’d found in their house.

"That Tommy’s?” Polly would ask, looking at the cover to see a horse running wild in a field.

“Yeah.” She’d say, wishing she could be free like the horse.

“Where are you meeting this young man, Y/N?” Polly asked after a moment of silence.

“The pub down the road.” She said shortly. She remembered Polly’s grip on her hair tightening at the mention of it.

“Ow! What is it?” She asked yanking herself free and turning to look at her aunt.

“D-don’t go. Please don’t.” She said, a fearful look in her eyes.

“Why? Arthur, Tommy, and John get to go anywhere in town and I can’t?!” She said, angrily putting her hair up herself and adjusting her dress.

“It’s not safe...” Polly said, walking down the hall.

“Right...so you want to lecture me on what’s safe because I’m so nice aye? What do you fucking see in me anyway?” She asked loudly. She never really raised her voice to Polly, fearing her to a slight degree. But as her younger brothers went out on business more often, she was practically shoved away, only being able to see Ada and Finn even though she was the oldest.

Polly’s eyes welled up with tears as she spoke.

“I see hope for this god-forsaken family. You have more control over yourself than I care to admit and I can’t bare to see you squander it all away by becoming one of them. You should live for yourself, at least then one of us in this family would be doing something good for a change.” She said, sauntering off into the kitchen.

“Tommy’s planning something isn’t he? That’s why you don’t want me to go on the date.” She said, following her into the kitchen with tears in her eyes. Even if she was older than Arthur by two years, he and the rest of them never stopped being over-protective.

“Yes.” Was all Polly said before Y/N ran out the door. If she wanted her to live for herself then she was going to do as she pleased. She was tired of being seen as some family secret, some mystery sibling that was different. She never liked the violence she grew up in but was that such a crime? To know how to not hurt people? To be able to know when to call it quits? These were thoughts she still struggled with as she looked at her two little girls getting up from the table and racing up the stairs. Their hair wild and smiles a mile long. Carefree like she always dreamed of being, and like most of her aunts family always claimed to be.

“I want you girls ready in 10 minutes!” Y/N yelled as the girls moved about upstairs, her husbands voice breaking her from her thoughts.

“Well I’m off love. I’ll see you all at my lunch break.” He said, kissing her goodbye and heading off to his ordinary job. Despite him being successful and full of money himself, she couldn’t shake the fact that they led very different lives before they met. He’d go off to college while she stayed and helped Polly with Finn, and Ada occasionally staying to help as she was always wanting to be out and about. While he grew up with a silver spoon, she grew up with rusted broken ones. She couldn’t for the life her know why he chose her, maybe it was luck? But nevertheless they worked out together and she was grateful no matter how many times her past haunted her.

As she cleaned up the kitchen, she fell back onto the memories from years ago. Her heart still aching like it was yesterday.

Remembering herself sprinting towards the pub where her new date had agreed to meet her, seeing a rowdy group of men near the entrance. The sharp sound of bottles breaking and slurs being spewed as she warily made her way over. Her eyes landed on her date and her stomach dropped. Arthur was holding him by the neck as Tommy pulled off his cap, slashing the mans face open in one fell swoop.

Y/N’s screams soon pierced the air as she saw him fall limp to the ground, Tommy finishing him off with a harsh twist of his neck.

The blinders all looked up to see their older sister just mere feet away from their mess. Without thinking, she ran over to the man she had grown to know, his face almost unrecognizable after what they’d done to him. As she cradled him, her eyes blurred with tears as her brothers stood in silence, the rain washing the mans blood off Tommy and Arthur’s hands as they waited for her to speak.

“Tommy...” She said, seeing red as she started at the man she once knew, lying dead on the cold pavement.

Her brother walked over, a tired look in his eyes as he crouched down to her level and put his cap back on.

“We had to do it Y/N...” He said, trying to reach for her hand.

Without warning she slapped him across the face with all the strength she could muster. Her hand stinging with the impact.

Polly came running in the distance, stopping near John who’d been holding his rifle as he sat against the wall of the pub.

As she got up, she wiped the blood on her clothes as she stared down her brother. A red handprint forming on his cheek as she neared him. With one hand she took his arm and with the other she grabbed Arthur’s hand, leading them near Polly and John.

“I knew him you know. How was he so bad that you had to kill him? Why was this part of your fucking plan?!” She yelled as they all looked at her with sorry expressions.

“He was working with Kimber’s men. Remember him?” John asked.

She got closer to John as she spoke, her arms folded in frustration.

“No John. I don’t remember. I wasn’t part of the family meetings...remember that?” She asked, knowing they always kept her, Ada, and little Finn in the dark ‘for their safety.’

“He was bad Y/N...” Tommy said, sticking a cigarette in his mouth.

“Like you all are any better. You didn’t even know him!” She shouted.

“Y/N love, please calm down. We had leads on him. He was trying to get with ya in order to get to us.” Arthur said.

“No...he wouldn’t.” She said, shaking her head as her tears fell.

“He did. Not everyone has a good heart like yours alright?” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette.

“You know what? Fuck the lot of you!” She yelled, her eyes boring into Tommy’s specifically.

“I can’t even look at you all anymore. You took away my one shot at meeting someone that wasn’t associated with this family and you all ruined it. You all ruined everything I’ve ever tried to do and here I am, the oldest fucking Shelby and I can’t even leave me own house.” She said, giving a side eye to Polly. As she spoke she remembered her aunts words, her eyes tearing up as she spat out her frantic goodbyes.

“You know what? I’m listening to what you said Pol. I’m going to go live for myself and I don’t want any of you to come for me. I can’t stand to be around any of ya. Goodbye.” She said, walking through the familiar dark streets for what felt like the last time.

“Mum? We’re ready!” She heard her oldest yell from the front door, ripping her from her thoughts.

“Alright, c’mere you.” She said, swooping her youngest up in her arms and walking out the door. As she walked with her oldest hand in hand they noticed the rain falling slightly as the city life bustled around them.

“I wish daddy didn’t take the car. He’ll be at his lunch break before we get there.” The oldest girl said, her white dress flowing in the wind.

“We’re going right up to the bank. He’ll be there. I promise.” She said, her nerves getting to her as they entered the tall building.

“I got a call about a check being sent from Polly Gray?” She asked the teller.

“Ah yes! Here you are. She also left a note.” She said, handing her the envelope.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the figures on the check, having to clutch the desk for support.

“Jesus fucking christ.” She said quietly.

“Jesus fuckin cwist!” Her youngest mumbled excitedly.

“Hey! We don’t say that.” She said smirking down at the little girl.

“Darling! Didn’t expect you to be here so early!” Her husband said as he stepped out of his office.

“This was uh...one of the errands. Can we go outside for a moment?” She asked.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking at her with concern.

“Oh um...it seems me aunt gave us a check for...$100,000.” She said.

“My god...you’re kidding. How did they get that kind of money?” He asked, even though they were well-off in New York it was still a shock, especially since the shop back home was far from successful all those years ago.

“Oh...you don’t want to know.” She said, her eyes scanning over the letter.

“Dear Y/N,

I know you don’t want to hear from any of us especially after so long, but we wanted to let you know we’re planning a visit to New York. We have some business to take care of and Tommy saw it best to come there personally. We’d love to meet up upon our arrival if you’d like. We have some unfortunate matters we’d like to discuss. In the meantime though, I wanted to gift you this check, seeing as we’ve come into more than enough good fortune over the years.

With love,

Aunt Pol”

“I have to get to a phone. Watch the girls please? I’ll be back.” She said, running inside the bank.

“What’s mummy doing?” Their oldest asked.

“Calling her family.” He said, holding her hand.

“She has a family? Like us but somewhere else?” She asked.

“Yeah...” He said, not knowing much about them as well. She’d kept that part of her life a secret for a while, but she’d let a few things slip every now and then, and she always got a check from Polly despite her refusing her help, but they never got one for this much before.

“Shelby Company Limited.” The woman said over the phone.

“Yes, this is Y/N...Y/N Johnson-I mean...Shelby. Y/N Shelby....is Polly there?”

“I’m sorry miss. The family has left for America, they’re expected in New York at noon.” She said.

“Alright, thank you.” She said, her watch ticked towards noon at a fast pace, knowing they’d be arriving soon.

“Girls were taking a trip. We uh...have to meet some of my family.” She said rushing out of the bank, scooping their youngest up in her arms with the others following.

“We need to get to customs, now.” She said, hurrying towards her husbands car.

Within the next 30 minutes they’d scrambled to get there, seeing the passengers get off the ship in groups. Her heart sped up as she saw her family, more dressed up now than before, but still the same tired features give or take Finn growing up before her eyes.

“Stay here you three. It’s going to be a moment.” She said, taking a shaky breath as she walked towards them.

“Y/N? Is that you?” She heard Polly call out. She stood frozen as they walked to her, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Hello Polly.” She said with a small smile, her tears plummeting to the ground as she gave her a warm hug.

“Oi! Is that really you?! Look at ya!” Arthur said with a smile.

“Yeah it’s me. Same old Y/N.” She said, wiping her tears as her brother Tommy stared at her.

“Cat got your tongue brother?” She asked, he gave her a hug but it was half-hearted at best.

“Right...so what are you lot doing here aye? Why’d you send us all that money?” She asked looking at them, Tommy’s eyes were more dead than all those years ago. She couldn’t shake the feeling something had happened as Polly spoke.

“Can we talk about this somewhere private at least? We just got here love...” Polly said.

Y/N sighed as she turned to her little family, the ring on her finger glinting in the sun as she nodded.

“Of course...follow me. I uh, have some people I want you to meet.” She said.

“Y/N...” Polly said in a shocked whisper as she saw the two girls and her husband standing there looking at them with smiles on their faces.

“This is my husband. His name is Charles Johnson, he’s a banker in Manhattan. And these are our girls. Jane is 7, Polly is 3.” She said, picking the little girl up as she giggled and waved at them.

“You...you never told us you’d met someone. Never told us you’d gotten married...Never told us you had children...” Polly said, waving at the girls.

“Well the street goes both ways. Didn’t know you got married aye Tom...” She said nodding to him, he lit a cigarette as they walked ahead. The tension growing in the air as she nervously took her husbands hand.

“It’s complicated, but yes I did.” He said shortly, the smoke wafting through the air.

“No smoking...please.” She said, her girls looking curiously at the man with piercing blue eyes.

“You serious?” He asked.

“Yes, the girls don’t like it. You’re such a grump though love. You’ve turned into an old man, older than Arthur even. Jesus.” She said, none the wiser to what they’d all been through over the years. Tommy just nodded with a slight smirk, knowing his past couple years would’ve destroyed her.

As the Shelby’s made small talk with the little girls, Charles got them a ride to their house, the bustling city taking them a little bit by surprise.

“I don’t know how you live here. It’s hectic.” Polly said, sitting in a small armchair in their living room.

“Well you wanted me to live my life for me Pol. I came here and I loved it. Never saw a reason to move.” She said, pouring her a glass of wine.

“Anyone want a drink?” She asked as her worse-for-wear brothers sat around.

“Now there’s our sister. You got whiskey?” Arthur asked.

“Did you think I left all of Birmingham behind? Of course I do.” She said, pouring out a couple glasses and handing them out. Her husband taking one and giving her a small peck on the cheek, Tommy staring him down for a moment before she came to him with a glass.

“What kind?” Tommy asked before drinking it.

“Irish...what else would it be? You taught me that.” She said with a smirk.

“Right...” He said, fixing his golden glasses.

“So tell me, what’s life been like here? It seems...grand.” Polly said looking around the place as the girls ran around giggling.

“Jane! Polly! No running in the house...go out to the courtyard.” She said, taking a sip of her whiskey.

“You named the little one Polly? I’m touched.” She said, sipping her wine.

Y/N sighed before she spoke, her husband sitting near her on the large sofa, holding her hand as he knew she had some things to get off her chest.

“Look...I was....angry. I was angry at the world when I left and...I’ve held onto that for so long it’s eaten me up. I know you all don’t care for me now, hell I wasn’t invited to anything anyways, but I did the same. I did this for me. And I’m happy here. I’m happy with my children. I named her Polly because even though we wanted to rip each other’s throats out some days, you were the one that helped me realize who I wanted to be. You helped raise me and I couldn’t not name her after someone I loved dearly.” She said, the room falling silent.

“You want us to forgive you?” Tommy asked.

“No. Honestly Tommy I’m still trying to forgive you. It was because of you all that I watched you kill him. I moved here so you’d never take people away from me again, but no I’m not looking for forgiveness or anything, I just want it behind us.” She said finishing off her whiskey.

“That was for your protection, love. You can understand that now at least, since you have your own children now.” Polly said, clasping her hand over hers.

“I can. But I wouldn’t kill someone. That’s how we’re different. I’ve told Charles about it, because I’ve always been the nice one. He may think otherwise though.” She said smirking at her husband.

“But, I’ve tried to move on. I just want you all to know I’m happy and I’m honestly not that hurt by it anymore. I’m just plagued with the memories that’s all.” She said.

“What about back home? How’s Ada? I’m assuming she’s with her kid...Karl right?” She asked, trying to change the subject.

“Yes. She has another on the way as well. Different father. Deceased though.”

“That’s too bad, I know she’s probably torn up, the poor thing. Give her a hug for me will ya? God I haven’t seen her in so long.” She said and Polly nodded.

“What about John? Where’s the cheeky bastard at anyway?” She asked. Polly teared up as Tommy held her hand, which he never did unless it was something important.

“He....he got shot. One of the mafias with a vendetta against us got him...it was recent enough that we figured we’d come to tell you.” He said.

“No.” She said, getting up quickly.

“No...no I-I said the most hateful things the last time I saw him. He can’t be...” She said as tears poured down her face.

“Hey....shh it’s alright darling.” Her husband said attempting to comfort her as she clung to him, her tears staining his expensive suit as Arthur and the rest looked away, their hearts growing heavy after re-hashing the news.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We couldn’t get to you in time for the funeral though, love.” Polly said, walking over.

“I have to sit down.” She said, her face paling as she sat on the sofa.

Her hands shook as she wiped her tears away. Polly kissed her forehead as she walked outside, observing the little girls as they played in the garden to keep from breaking down as well.

As Y/N settled down, she took another shot of whiskey, wincing at the burn of it going down. Since having her kids and working, she didn’t have as much time to drink, at least not like they did back home.

“I should’ve came back sooner...I-I should’ve written you all more often.” She said.

“Y/N that wouldn’t have changed much. We’re just happy you’re happy alright love?” Arthur said, patting her on the back.

“Yeah...” She said.

“Say...I know you all are tired. Would you all care to stay? We have enough room...” Charles asked as Polly walked in with the girls.

“Mum! Who that?” Little Polly asked in her sweet voice.

“Hello! Oh you silly girls! I hope you loved meeting Polly! These are your uncles, Arthur, Tommy, and Finn.” She said wiping her tears away as they came in, letting them walk over to them. Tommy smiled at them and put on his best kind expression, knowing how impressionable kids were.

“So uhm...Tommy do you have kids?” Y/N asked, circling back to the ring on his finger and trying to lighten the conversation.

“Yeah. I have a boy name Charlie, and a girl named Ruby. Charlie’s mum was uh...shot...by the mafia, Lizzie is well, she’s working at the office and helping with little Ruby.” He said.

“Shot! Jesus fuckin cwist!” Little Polly squealed out.

Y/N’s mouth dropped as she picked her up. Arthur and eventually everyone erupted in laughter.

“We do not say that Polly! Don’t repeat bad words!” Y/N scolded her, trying to hold back her own laugh in the process.

“I’m sorry about your first wife Tom...I’m also sorry little Polly over here has the mouth of a sailor.” She said playfully eyeing her daughter and giving her brother a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s alright love. Things happen aye?” He said, his heart still hurting after the loss, but warming at the sight of his little happy and not so nicely-mouthed nieces.

“Maybe we can visit the rest of the family sometime? I’m sure we can arrange that.” She asked looking at her husband.

“Of course! We’d um...we’d like that. Very much.” Polly said a genuine smile on her face as she watched her niece with her children.

“I’m so glad you’re doing well for yourself dear. Truly. We all are, and if we haven’t said it yet, welcome to the family Charles.” Polly said, shaking his hand.

“My offer still stands though by the way...” Charles said after a moment.

“What’s that aye?” Tommy asked, finally loosening up a bit.

“You all can stay here. You all aren’t the only ones with big houses you know. You’re family after all.” Y/N said.

“Well it’s not like we have anywhere else to go. What to do you say?” Polly asked, looking at Tommy. He smirked a bit before answering, Y/N could see the conditions he’d have with their stay floating around in his head.

“Alright...As long as we get to have the toast you always made. I’ve hired many a housemaid and none of them could make it like you do, they always burn it up.” He said.

She chuckled at the memory, always making a bunch of it in the mornings before they’d all go running off in the streets.

“Deal.” She said, giving him a small smile, knowing that even after all the years and all the losses, she knew she could never fully be away from family.

[bangtanbetchfics]

friction: iv - finale | knj (m)

genre: office au, romance, smut rating: explicit // 18+ pairing: kim namjoon x reader word count: 8.6k suggested listening: different - woodz | strangers - taemin | handle it - twice | amnesia - kai | last piece - got7 | playlist warnings: m/f, m/m, explicit language, explicit/casual sex, masturbation, enemies to lovers summary: your pesky and overworked assistants meddle in your relationship with your sexy rival -- kim namjoon -- and find themselves caught in the crosshairs of love and all-out war. notes: the final chapter! thanks everyone for all of the notes and support on this one. for more fun insights on this story, please visit my ao3, linked below. navigation: ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | finale | m.list | ao3

Namjoon: “All I know right now is that I want you,” He says, tilting his head. “And that I’d never hurt you.”

You: “I’m afraid, Jin,” You confess in his ear, and he rests his chin on your shoulder. “That he’ll break my heart.”

Jin: “Someone’s feelings are ultimately going to get hurt.”

✹✹✹

“We have like...fifteen minutes before they’re both back,” Taehyung whispers to Jimin, both of their bodies pressing against each other in a minuscule phone room.

“I can’t even move right now,” Taehyung laments, moving the chair near him as close to the door as he can, enabling Jimin to straddle him.

“Well...this was the only room I could find, Tae. It’s busy season.” This makes Taehyung frown as he grabs Jimin’s waist to steady him. “We’re lucky we even got this.”

Jimin slides to the bottom of Taehyung’s legs near his knees, and the edge of the desk behind him digs into his back.

“Ow, fuck.” Jimin sucks air in through his teeth, refocusing his mind before he looks down at Taehyung’s crotch. Taehyung’s cock is somehow rock hard, and Jimin rubs his palm over the significant bulge. “It’s amazing how you can still get hard in these situations.”

The comment makes Taehyung frown before he spreads his legs open to evenly distribute Jimin’s weight across him.

“We haven’t fucked because we’re always so tired from work, so yeah, I’m hard. Really fucking hard.” Taehyung pulls Jimin in for a few sloppy kisses, his hand firm on the other man’s slim waist. He rubs Jimin’s back and his hands glide to Jimin’s plush ass before he gives it a squeeze.

Jimin bites his lip at the grab -- grinning and moving further up Taehyung’s legs to straddle his crotch. “It’s been too long since I’ve done that.” Taehyung chuckles, licking his lips.

Taehyung sighs lightly at the warmth covering him, and he uses his massive hands to glide Jimin’s ass over his crotch -- making the both of them breathe in unison. Jimin loosens two buttons of his own crisp white shirt, Taehyung moving to lick his exposed collarbones before nibbling at his clavicle.

Faint moans slip from Jimin’s lips as he reaches into Taehyung’s pants, and pulls out his fully erect cock. He salivates at his girth, and a wad of spit leaves his mouth before landing on Taehyung’s firm cock.

The sensation causes Taehyung’s back to press into the chair, the thick line of spit rolling down the sensitive skin. He sighs as Jimin’s smooth hand rubs up and down his shaft and he groans, feeling himself grow even harder.

Jimin leans back to get his elbows on the desk for support and shimmies to tilt his pelvis up toward the ceiling.

Taehyung then pulls Jimin’s soft, thick cock from his pants. His thumb moves to glide over the soft tip, expecting a drizzle of precum to follow. It does, and Taehyung smears the droplet of arousal over the prominent head. Jimin hisses at the feeling, grinding his hips into Taehyung’s firm grip. His hand was firm without even trying, and Jimin gives Taehyung a firm squeeze in return, making the other man hiss through his teeth.

The two are soon jerking each other off in unison, the slick sounds of their pleasure filling in the room.

“Motherfuck-“ Taehyung groans, his cum sliding down Jimin’s fist. “Already?” Jimin gasps and follows in response, his cum flowing down over Taehyung’s fingers.

“Well, fuck.” Jimin reaches behind him and cleans the two of them up before zipping both of their pants. He balls the napkins up in his hand, maneuvering to toss them in the trash below the desk.

“Ah, fuck...this is miserable.” Jimin pouts, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. He grabs Taehyung’s shoulders before mumbling into the fabric there. “We have to figure out a gameplan to get our bosses back together.”

Jimin lifts from Taehyung’s lap and looks at his watch as he buttons his shirt back up: 6:56 P.M.

“Let’s hurry and get back.” Jimin says, tapping Taehyung’s shoulder to get up.

✹✹✹

A sigh leaves your lips and you move to pull a bouquet slotted in a vase closer to your face. The fresh scent hits your nose as bury your face in the silkiness of the petals.

“Ya!” Jin yells, breaking you from your lovesick stupor. “It looks like a florist took up shop in here!” He looks around, observing the bouquets sitting in every corner of your office.

Taehyung looks over and chuckles, laughing to himself at Namjoon’s failed attempt to get you back.

You grab your coat and shrug it on before you carefully navigate your way around the bouquets and out of your office.

Jin notices how quiet you are -- the two of you waiting in the empty elevator bank. This was a state he was worried about you being in, and he made sure to pick you up from work when you were like this. He nudges you and his arm hooks into yours, but you’re barely able to acknowledge it.

“Anything you wanna talk about?” You lean your head on his arm and shake your head. He leans his head down to meet the top of yours in a quiet understanding before the two of you enter a crowded elevator car.

The elevator beeps as it navigates each floor, and you squeeze your eyes shut -- praying that it doesn’t land on the 61st floor. You knew that was Namjoon’s floor and he was one hundred percent the absolute last person you wanted to see right now -- especially after your impulsive encounter earlier that afternoon.

61.

Of course. The universe always had to mess with you.

The elevator doors open and Namjoon’s eyes search around the car. You look up, and his gaze locks with yours. It feels like the two of you are frozen in time for a moment, and other employees brush past him to enter the car.

You can tell he’s worn from the long hours of work by the dark bags sitting underneath his eyes. In the moment he looks to you for some sort of relief -- some sort of resolve -- but you don’t lend it to him. Jin notices and glares him down, and Namjoon’s crestfallen gaze lifts from yours to meet Jin’s leer.

You quickly look down and swallow a lump of nerves down your throat, and Namjoon slowly enters the car. Your hand trembles as you grip the strap of your purse -- the piece of leather feeling like a lifeline -- like a sweet, temporary escape from the situation at hand.

The car reaches the lobby and employees spill from the elevator, scattering in a rat race out of the building. You grip Jin’s arm closer to you as you watch the back of Namjoon exit the car.

“Is that the guy?” Jin cranes his neck down to your ear. You don’t respond, and Jin takes it as a confirmation. You and Jin take a left as you leave the building, and Namjoon takes a right, but you can’t help but listen for the sound of Namjoon’s shoes to dissipate.

“You see? I knew you’d get hurt.” Jin laments, moving his arm over your shoulder to tug you closer. The sound of Namjoon’s shoes halts as he overhears, and he turns around to look at the both of you walking down the street. He takes a deep inhale, the breath exhuming a deep regret from his body.

✹✹✹

Light snowflakes fall from the sky, starting to coat the city below them in a white, glistening blanket. Your eyes glide toward the view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling length windows, and you watch cars -- now rendered to tiny, glittering lights this high up -- float by in the pulse of the dark evening.

Your foot extends to meet the cool edge of a clawfoot tub, the rest of your body enveloped in the warmth of the water around you. The movement of your foot around the white ceramic edge makes a squeaking noise, the sound bouncing off the quiet halls of your apartment.

You sink further into the water and blow bubbles into it before submerging your head fully for a few seconds. You gasp as you emerge, the cool air creating goosebumps all over your exposed skin. Your hand moves to slick your hair back, and you rest your head on the back edge of the tub.

All you can hear in the darkness are the droplets of water dripping from the edges of the tub.

The space in your apartment was now somber -- no longer filled with your buoyant giggles or throaty moans of being deeply taken. No tinkering sounds of Namjoon making his morning coffee, or the deep, needy exclamations of your name tumbling from his lips.

Thinking of him somehow made a desire tinder inside of you, and you feel your nipples harden under the thought -- only exacerbated by the cool air in the room. You close your eyes, surrendering to your thoughts; your mind racing through the various scenarios and encounters with Namjoon.

At this moment you were grateful that the nerves in the human body retained memories, for you suspire as your fingertips start to trace your skin just as Namjoon would.

You inhale as a wet thumb glides over your erect nipple, sending sensations of pleasure through your body. Your hand moves to grip the soft flesh of your other breast, your fingers kneading the sensitive skin in your hand. Your teeth bite your bottom lip as you imagine the person touching you is Namjoon instead.

A mewl leaves your lips as two fingers meet inside of your core, easily slipping inside. The tightness of the two fingers makes you writhe -- your breath coming loose from your throat.

Your pointer and pinky finger become affixed to either side of your lips, giving you leverage to pump your fingers faster inside of you. Your back arches as you move faster, the sounds of moving water growing louder in the space. The recollection of Namjoon’s desire from earlier that day is somehow still singed to your skin, and you pant as you recall.

Cries leaves your lips as your fingers curl up to meet your engorged g-spot, and your eyes squeeze shut as your fingers glide back and forth over the pleasurable spot.

Burning sensations rip through your body and you squeal, feeling your core clench around your fingers. You moan out loud, biting your lip from the guilt of conjuring a memory before a final drag over the swollen spot courses a delectable pleasure through your veins.

A sigh leaves your lips in your comedown, and you heave while you wonder how a kiss in a fervid moment got you here: alone, and without a promotion you’d been waiting to achieve your entire life.

You lift your body upright and rest your arms on either side of the tub, looking back out at the cityscape.

✹✹✹

Snow crunches under Namjoon’s feet while his fingers clench to a paper cup in his hand. He’s grateful for the hot sear on his fingertips to keep both his fingers and body warm, and he looks down, watching his feet sink into the fresh snow with every step he takes.

Hoseok squints at the sunlight peeking through the snow-coated limbs of the trees above, and he notices Namjoon’s spaced-out expression beside him. He nudges his friend and Namjoon comes to -- looking over to Hoseok and feigning a smile.

“You alright, bro?” Hoseok’s tone is concerned, and Namjoon smiles again and shakes his head.

“See this?” He points down at the fresh snow. “My life used to be like this. Just new and...fresh with her.” He then nods his head over at the dirty, white slosh in the street as they approach a corner to cross. “Now it’s more like that.”

Hoseok covers his mouth, and he can’t help but giggle at Namjoon’s humor, even in such a low moment.

“Sorry...but you kinda brought that one on yourself.” Hoseok chuckles through his response. “I mean, who ties their lover to their bed and then leaves them there? I’d be kinda mad, too. Even if I did get a couple of orgasms out of it.” Hoseok chortles, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“When I think about it...I just wanted the promotion at any cost. You know how my mom is.” Namjoon’s fingers squeeze dents into the cup in his hand, and Hoseok stops in his tracks. He reaches a hand out to grab Namjoon’s arm to stop him as well.

Namjoon’s throat tightens and he avoids eye contact with Hoseok, still looking down at the ground. He hated looking into Hoseok’s wide, earnest eyes. He always told him what he didn’t want to hear, but the advice was always right.

“Hey. Look at me.” Hoseok is calm, and he shakes Namjoon to look up at him. “You’ve gotta start living for yourself, man. This...this ruthless mentality is really fucking with you and your relationships. The tactics you use at work don’t necessarily reap the same benefits in love.”

Namjoon sucks air up his nostrils, frustrated with Hoseok -- but he understands he’s right. He shakes his head before looking up into Hoseok’s eyes, his own eyes glossy with tears.

“I really fucked this one up, Hobi, I-” Namjoon shakes his head again.

“Apologize. Start there.” Hoseok starts, and Namjoon interjects. “But I already-“

“If you really care about her, do it as many times as it takes.” Both eyebrows raise on Hoseok’s face as he cuts Namjoon off.

“Also, know you love and respect your mom...but like, you can’t let her dictate the way you live your life anymore.” Hoseok squeezes Namjoon’s arm in assurance. “No disrespect, but you gotta do you, bro.” He smacks Namjoon’s arm.

“I’ll see you later!” Hoseok shouts, running to make it across the street before the light changes.

Namjoon shakes his head as he looks down, his hand balling into a tight fist.

✹✹✹

The cool winter wind curls through Namjoon’s hair, and he sighs as he looks at the ground coated white below him.

The plastic of the bouquet in his arms crunches as he kneels down, and he sets the flowers to the side.

He takes a deep pause before he wipes a few inches of snow from a gravestone labeled KIM. He sits there, hands on his knees as two silent tears fall down his cheeks. He quickly wipes them with his gloves as they almost freeze on his face.

“I-I’m...I’m on my way, Dad. The position is pretty much mine.” Namjoon starts, his voice trembling.

“Is that what you would’ve wanted?” He asks, unwrapping the flowers from their plastic and slotting them into a cement holder above the grave.

“But your work nearly...no, did. Your work did put you here, right?” He laments, his head falling into his palms, still frigid even through the thick gloves.

“Or...would you have wanted me to be happy?” Namjoon tilts his head, a heaviness on his chest as he lets out the words.

“There’s this woman you see...” He continues, looking down at the engravings in the stone below him once more.

Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut and a final crest of tears leave his eyes. He stands up, walking to the edge of the bluff he’s on before looking out at the frozen landscape.

✹✹✹

You sit on your couch, curled up by a neon fire crackling in a glass display in front of you. Your toes curl up as they fill with heat, and you polish off the rest of the wine in your glass.

Somehow, you were undeniably tipsy and had finished off half a bottle of the sweet, tart liquid. Your hand slides over the glass coffee table to the side of you, and the glass screeches as you place the cup down. You let out the beginnings of a yawn before you hear your doorbell ring -- making you jolt up out of your seat.

“Can I help you?” You press a button on a digital intercom labeled ‘lobby’ and you hear a voice ring out on the other end.

“Yes, there’s a gift for you, ma’am?” A male voice answers back, and your hand drops from the button. You roll your eyes before you hit the button to speak again.

“Fine, bring it up.”

✹✹✹

Your doorbell rings, and you take your time to stand -- slowly walking toward the door. You release the lock on the door and swing it open before leaning back on it.

“It’s from...” The man starts, before looking down in his phone again. “Ah. It’s from one Kim Namjoon. Sent with the utmost urgency, ma’am.” He nods, tipping his hat down before he hands you a huge black box.

You groan at the weight, closing the door shut with your foot.

You lug the box over to your coffee table, and place it down before your hand meets your hips. Air blows from your lips as you ponder whether or not you should even open the box. The indifference develops into a sigh while you massage your temples, moving and scooting closer to the table to take in the outside of the box.

You place your hand on top of the lid and sigh again, your fingers lifting it off before you set the top to the side.

You gasp and stand up, taking in what’s before you.

Thirty-six light purple roses are carefully arranged in a circular box inside, and the warm, rosy scent travels up your nose.

Neatly tucked inside is a shiny gold envelope, and you move to pull it out. You break the seal with your fingernail, pulling out a piece of light pink cardstock.

To: The Woman I’m Not Sure I Can Live Without

There’s a thin line between love and hate...but I can only hope that you keep your faith in love.

“Love means to commit oneself without guarantee, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will produce love in the loved person. Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love.”

The florists told me that the roses carefully arranged in this box for you are forever, but I hope our love outlasts every single one.

Hoping this message reaches you in the depths of your heart -- in a little corner of light -- where I hope you’ll be able to find a place to believe in me again.

-Lovingly, Kim Namjoon

Your hands tremble and you drop the letter -- your head falling into your palms. You collapse to the couch and softly sob out of frustration, more confused than ever.

✹✹✹

The next morning, you sigh as a bunch of people crowd next to you after you board an elevator car. You definitely didn’t get any sleep the night before, and you study the back of the woman’s head in front of you. Your gaze lifts and your eyes widen as you see Namjoon run to board the front of the crowded car. His eyes widen in response to seeing you, and your eyes swiftly meet the ground.

The elevator stops at the next available floor, and a few people cycle out of the car -- Namjoon being one of the first out.

A dozen more people wait outside of the car to enter, and Namjoon’s only choice is to move further into the back of the car near you. He crushes his lips together before he gathers the courage to stand next to you as the car fills back up. Someone squeezes near him -- and his arm pushes into yours.

“Sorry.” He whispers, keeping his sight focused ahead of him.

You become rattled at how close he is to you, a heat rising up your throat and into your cheeks.

He’s so close you can smell his cologne, and you subtly inhale it -- reveling in the brief moment of nostalgia. You follow it by swallowing a breath down -- your best attempt to cool your nerves. You blow relief from your lips as the elevator reaches his floor, and he files out of the car.

You’re able to steal a glance of Namjoon before the elevator shuts, and his eyes grow wide again in response.

✹✹✹

“Almost ready for dinner?” Taehyung asks you, powering his computer down. He takes a quick glance at his watch before looking over at your office.

You use a large, fluffy brush to swipe blush across your cheeks and you smile slightly to make the apples more prominent.

“How do I look?” You ask Taehyung, taking a slow turn. A creamy white dress is affixed to your curves, and a transparent chiffon choker floats around your neck.

“It’ll be nice to get out for dinner for once.” You mention as you pin twinkling diamond earrings to each of your ears.

✹✹✹

“How are you adjusting to the new workload?” You ask Taehyung, slicing through a piece of chicken below you. You take a bite, watching him formulate an answer.

“It’s a lot to take on...but I know in the long run it’ll pay off.” Taehyung shrugs. “Or...at least I hope it does.” He says, loading a few green peas onto his fork as he looks at you before shaking his silver locks from his eyes.

“Good mindset to have,” Your fork points at him, before you polish the food down your throat. “But. You don’t want to end up old and grey like me. And with no one to share it with.”

“You’re not old. Or gray!” Taehyung exclaims before clutching his belly in laughter. You join him in laughing, the wine spinning glee through your veins.

“Thanks for doing this, Tae.” You mention, tapping the back of Taehyung’s hand and watching a smile curl up on his lips.

“You deserve it. Truly-” Mid-response, he jolts as the watch on his wrist buzzes:

[Jiminie]: 7:58 P.M. Now.

He smirks a bit as he sees the message, but his brows furrow before he looks up at you.

“I have to take this.” His voice is asking for permission, and you nod in response -- waving him off.

✹✹✹

You look at your watch, noticing that thirty-five minutes have lapsed since Taehyung left you at the table. You lift the device to your mouth: “Call Taehyung.” The device rings for half a second before you’re served Taehyung’s voicemail.

The kick to voicemail brings your brows together on your head, and you try the sequence once more. Another fail. You sigh, slightly worried by the lack of response.

A sliver of fear causes you to rise from your seat to take a walk around the space. Decadent crystal chandeliers light up the space, but they’re dimmed to give ambiance to most of the couples huddled up in the restaurant for the evening.

You admit to yourself that you’re jealous, as one half of those couples could’ve easily been you a few weeks before everything went down between you and Namjoon. You sigh, rubbing your arms to relieve yourself from the pockets of wind coming through the front door each time it opens. Your eyes scan the restaurant, but nothing unusual sticks out to you -- and you still don’t see Taehyung.

“Did he leave me here?” You whisper under your breath before heading back to your seat. You admit you’re lightly pissed off, but you calmly sit back down at your table.

“So, how was everything?” A waitress arrives, and she starts collecting items from the table. “It was amazing...except for...well.” Your voice trails off as you look over to the other side of the table. “I’ve really gotta find him.” You mumble, pulling out your wallet. The waitress grimaces, collecting the last fork and placing it on her tray.

“Anyway...could I have the receipt, please?” You ask, looking up at the woman. She looks back at you, confused, and you return the look. “The bill’s already been paid, ma’am.”

“By whom?” You tilt your head, and the woman points over her shoulder before she steps to the side.

It’s Namjoon.

Namjoon walks toward you, a hand in the pocket of his white pants. A cream dress shirt hugs his frame in the right places, but it's tucked in to accentuate his slim waist. A white wool coat adorns his frame and reaches just below his knees, and his hips sexily cut side-to-side before he lands to stand above you.

“May I?” He asks, his deep voice rippling through your ears, goosebumps traveling through your skin.

You’re at a loss for words as you take his divine form in from head-to-toe, and he gestures toward the empty chair.

Shockwaves zip through your body, and you can only manage a nod in response.

Taehyung and Jimin grin at each other from a well-hidden corner of the restaurant as they watch the two of you -- their pinkies linked tightly together.

✹✹✹

Namjoon marvels at you as he sits, his hand loosening from his pocket. His eyes triangulate around your face, and you can tell he’s at a loss for words himself. He takes a deep breath in, looking down at the table.

How handsome he looks under the candlelight is something you can’t help but notice -- his tan skin twinkling under the flicker of the flames. You lower your eyes so you don’t get sucked too far into his charms, subtly shaking your head until you come to.

The both of you sit in silence for a few moments before he reaches for your hand.

“Joon-“ You gasp as the warmth radiating from him courses through your veins. He squeezes your hand before speaking.

“I’ve been selfish,” He starts, his soft brown eyes raising to meet yours. “It’s just that you’ve never been apart of the grand plan I had laid out for my life...” He sighs, and you can tell his thoughts are trailing off.

“I...I told you kissing me that night wasn’t a good idea.” Your chest starts to heave, and your hand begins to tremble in his. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me then. And now we’re here.”

“I know...I know...” His voice turns into a woeful plea, and tears gather at the edges of your eyes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

His head hangs down and he squeezes your hand again. You loosen your hand from his and he looks up in shock, watching as you look down to reach into your bag.

“I want you back,” He pulls his hands into a prayer near his lips, his thumbs tucked under his chin as he looks at you. You flare your nostrils to hold in your tears as you listen to him.

“If you have it in your heart...please forgive me.” He continues, tears gathering in his own eyes.

“I really liked you, Joon.” You get choked up, tears flooding down your face. You suck in air to calm yourself, using the handkerchief you pulled from your bag to dab at your tears.

Namjoon reaches across the table to wipe the fresh wave of tears falling from your eyes with his thumbs, and he looks directly at you.

“I have something to tell you.” His tone is serious, and you grab ahold of his wrist. He takes your hand and holds it again, massaging the back of it.

“I told Yoongi...” You can tell whatever he’s about to say is hard for him, and his eyes widen before he looks down. “I told Yoongi that he should give the CEO position to you. That you could lead it with more grace than I ever could. And that’s something that I’ve always admired about you.” His warm lips meet the palm of your hand, and a tear falls from one of his eyes.

“No, I-“ A hot tear shoots from one of your eyes, and you shake your head. He shakes his head in assurance, placing your hand on his cheek.

“You can’t do this on my behalf.” You gasp out, more tears pooling in your eyes. “You really wanted this.”

“So did you. And yes, I can.” He starts. “But why? Tell me why. You wanted nothing more.”

“It’s simple, really.” Namjoon releases your hand, sitting back in his chair.

“I was chasing a dream that wasn’t my own to make the people I loved happy. I’ve always done what my family’s wanted -- no matter the cost. But I was never happy. Not until I met you.” He says, his eyes focused on you. His eyes grow even warmer under the candlelight as he admires your features.

“The only thing I’ve ever truly dreamed about was falling in love.” He sits back up, taking your hand in his again. Your fingers slide in between his and your palms meet in a firm clasp.

“I’m guilty of it too, I guess.” You respond, searching his eyes. “I think I’ve always used work as an excuse not to go too deep...to not to fall in love too hard. But you broke all of my walls down, and then you left me.” You chuckle softly, drawing one out of him as well. “But now you’re here again. In front of me.” You shoulder raises and then falls, and you look at him.

“I guess it was fate that pushed us together like this.” Namjoon kisses your hand warmly, and you sigh at the comfort of the familiar feeling. His eyes scan yours, and you can feel more words are at the tip of his tongue. The words seem to dissipate from his lips, and he releases your hand.

“I guess...I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” You give him a slow nod as you watch him stand up, and you chew at the inside of your lip. He starts to leave the table, and you grab his wrist.

“Wait. Would you...would you mind taking me home?” There’s a lilt of desire in your voice, and he looks back at you.

✹✹✹

“Sorry, no heat in here -- don’t ask.” A cab driver mentions as the two of you hop in the backseat. You cross your legs and look out of the window as the car pulls off.

There’s still a marked silence between the two of you.

After a few minutes you can hear the whisper of wind coming through the car door, and the cool air makes you shiver. You ball your hand into a fist as your fingers and toes grow cold, and you rub your arms to gather warmth in your body.

You knew Namjoon was probably warm, but you were stubborn and you refused to give into him that easily.

Namjoon turns and looks at you coolly as you look out the window, and he taps your shoulder. You turn to face him, and your lips are a hair away from each other in the small car.

He looks down and your eyes follow his as he hooks his arm into yours before pulling you closer to him. His warmth surges through you, causing your body to melt into his. Your cheek meets his shoulder, and you warm your hand by rubbing one of his thighs. You squeeze the hard muscle and he can feel himself getting hard. You slow the rubbing as you notice him fidgeting, simply resting your palm on his leg. His racing heartbeat becomes apparent as your head slides down to his chest, and you smirk to yourself that you still had this affect on him.

“This is you, ma’am.” The driver mentions, looking back at the two of you. “Who’s payin’?” He asks, pulling up to a curb.

The car pulls up outside of your house, and you look up at Namjoon -- your lips close once again. A desire knots in between your legs, and you squeeze them to dissipate the sensation -- gasping at the sudden intensity of your lust.

“Um...um I guess this is me.” You say softly, looking from his lips up to his eyes. He returns the look, and you quickly break eye contact and get out of the car.

Namjoon whips his credit card into the reader before handing the driver fifty dollars in cash.

“Can you give me a few minutes?” He taps the man’s shoulders, and the driver looks at Namjoon through the rearview mirror.

“Good luck, man.” The driver nods, watching Namjoon exit.

✹✹✹

Namjoon catches you before you start to walk away from the vehicle, and he comes to stand tall in front of you. He looks down at you for a few moments, and neither of you break eye contact. The wind starts to chill your lips and fingertips, and Namjoon moves a step closer toward you.

He’s hesitant as he approaches, not sure how you’ll react. He places a hand on your shoulder, and it moves up your neck and toward your cheek. Your head naturally falls into his large palm, and his other hand moves to do the same. Both of his thumbs massage the skin underneath your chin -- both of your lips only a breath away from each other.

“I forgive you.” You whisper, looking into his eyes. His eyes fall in relief, and your fingers hook into the belt cinching his coat around his waist to pull him closer to you.

Both of your lips gently meet, the warmth melting your frigid lips.

Snow starts to fall, and each flake that meets your skin is no match for the heat rising from your cheeks. You relish in each others warmth, one always pulling the other closer -- your fingers embedded in the smooth fabric of his coat.

Namjoon taps the cab for it to leave, and you press your lips further into his as his soft thumbs rub up and down the column of your throat.

“It rained the first night we kissed.” Namjoon pulls his lips from yours and you giggle. He presses back into your lips halfway through another giggle leaving your mouth.

“Is that a sign?” You mumble into his lips, nipping at the lush bottom one. You dive back into him with your tongue as a familiar, insatiable thirst overtakes you -- his head tilting to the side to gain more leverage in the kiss.

✹✹✹

A trail of clothing lines the floor to the couch in your living room, and you’re perched atop Namjoon’s lap. His tongue dives into the silky fabric of your cream-colored slip, the moisture embedding the fabric against your nipple. You gasp, your hands rummaging around his hair as he does the same to your other nipple before lightly nibbling at it. The silk begins to stick to your form, the heat from the fireplace causing your body to collect small droplets of sweat.

You breathe into each other’s mouths as you slowly unbutton Namjoon’s shirt, his hands roaming underneath your slip and over your ass. He slides his fingers underneath the suspenders that hold up your stockings, and then moves to squeeze the cheeks of your ass firmly before slapping it.

You bite your lip -- gasping into his mouth before diving back into his lips. Something about his grip on your ass made you distinctly feral, and you grind into his crotch below.

“How did I get so lucky?” He gasps, only allowing you a small wind of his hips, and you bite into his bottom lip. He growls and pulls your panties to the side, feeling the slick heat between your lips.

“Fuck. You still get so wet for me.” His fingers continue to rub you and you whine, attempting to grab his wrist. You were on fire by now, and you run your hands over his hard, exposed chest before diving back into his lips, the only part of his body he was allowing you access to.

The length of his finger suddenly slips inside of you and you firmly moan into his lips. He pumps his finger inside of you and you squirm, hearing the slick sounds of your juices coating his finger. He slips a second finger in, using the two of them to stretch you.

“Ah...Namjoon...” A pert moan drops from your mouth, his fingers moving to pump into you again.

You relish in the sweet stretch of his fingers, his mouth moving to suck on your breast through the fabric. You grab his head as his drags his tongue from your breast -- up your neck and back to your lips. Need -- a deep aching need -- emanates from your lips as you make contact again, and he pulls his fingers from inside of you.

“Let me taste you.” He growls into your lips, and you gasp as he throws you on your back. He pulls you closer to him on the couch before dragging your soaked lace panties to the side. He immediately suckles at your drenched lips below, moaning into the sensitive skin. He swiftly burrows his face inside of you, his tongue flicking deep inside of your core. He rotates his head around your core, his masterful tongue dragging with it. You squeal as he growls into you, and you grip him at the roots of his hair.

“Namjoon, fuck-“ You feel yourself drip, throwing your head back over the edge of the couch. The feeling of his tongue was more intense than usual, the sounds of him eating you out sending electric zaps through you like a livewire.

He gives you a dark look -- lightly pulling at your lips as you watch him below, moving to trail cum-drenched kisses up your abdomen. He meets your lips with his, and you moan as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Namjoon’s now positioned above you and you reach below, massaging his shaft through his boxers. He groans, almost as if in pain, from how much he wanted you. He gasps as you pull out his weighty length, and sit up to tuck it into your warm mouth.

Your tongue slips over the wet head before you take him in as far as you can. He groans as you pull out and precum gathers on the tip. You hum at the liquid before you dig your tongue into the slit its pouring from -- devouring him again and again.

You release him from your mouth after a few moments, the entirety of his shaft glistening with saliva. You lay back on the couch and he parts your legs, looking up at you. He drives his shaft up and down your lips before he enters you -- and you wince as his firm head pierces you. He pulls back out briefly, blowing air out so he doesn’t fill you whole in one go. You line him up with your entrance, and you push him in -- gasping at the furious stretch. He groans in return, beginning to pump slowly in and out of you. You whine, placing a hand on his abdomen to slow his pace. Both of your breathing picks up, and he props himself up over you -- his lips joining with yours.

His hips start to wave into yours, and you whimper in pleasure as his pace increases.

“Does that feel good?” His length pulls in and out of you, the subtle difference in size from his pronounced head to his shaft intensely massaging your walls. You nod, so deeply concentrated on the pleasure.

“Faster?” He asks through a few labored breaths, his eyes intense on yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips meeting the wet heat collecting on his skin.

“Fuck...yeah.” You can only mewl out into his ear as he picks up his pace, his cock growing larger inside of you.

“Motherfuck-“ You whine, your legs moving to hook onto his shoulders. He fills you deeper, and the slosh of your bodies meeting below filling the room. How wet you are turns you on further and you tap his back, indicating for him to take his thrusts a tick faster. And so he does, his skin slapping hard into yours as you gasp, whining as you’re taken the deepest you’ve ever been. Your fingernails clamp into the rippling muscles on his back, and your senses explode as you clench around him, nearing your release.

You gasp as he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach, positioning your ass in the air. He pushes your slip up, and takes hold of the white garter belt affixed to your nude fishnet stockings. You squeal as he enters you from behind, his grip tightening on your belt to drive deeper inside of you.

“Faster.” Grits through your teeth, the end of the word ending in a whine. Something about not having him for weeks ignited a deep desire inside of you -- and you moan as his free hand digs into your waist. His large hand slides down to grip the back of your neck while he bucks into you madly, lewd moans repeatedly slipping through your lips.

“Namjoon I’m gonna-“ You squeal as he slams harder into you -- the neurons in your body exploding in euphoria. The pleasure radiates from your core and through the rest of your nerves as you still pulse around him -- your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Fuck!” Namjoon exclaims, his warm load releasing inside of you, and your head hangs down as you catch your breath. He pulls from the tight fit, a popping noise echoing in the air as he does so.

“God, I missed you.” He says softly, before he positions you on your back, laying himself back on top of you. He dives into your lips once more and you grab his jaw, relishing in his weight on your body. He luxuriates in your softness and warmth as he fixes his hard frame on top of yours, and you pull a leg up to wrap around his waist. He caresses you from the curve of your ass down to the back of your knee, looking at you with adoration in his eyes.

“Why are you here with me again? After everything?” There’s wonder in his whisper -- a need for some sort of unspoken assurance -- and you seal your lips to his. Your thumb glides over his cheek, and you pull back to look at his features.

“I’m only human. I can’t control how I feel.” You breathe in, stroking his soft locks. He glides his nose over yours, his lips still roving over your skin. He places a hot, opened mouthed kiss on your neck as he squeezes your waist, and you softly moan into his ear.

Namjoon lifts his head up, looking from your lips to your eyes. His toasty chestnut eyes grow larger, and he looks at you.

“I love you.” He says softly, and your chest heaves up and down before you kiss him again.

“I love you, too.” Coming up for air, you look at him -- still feeling as if you haven’t indulged enough in his plush lips. You kiss him feverishly, soaking in his confession.

Both of your swollen lips vibrate against one another as you look at each other, gasping for air as you pull away.

“What are we gonna tell Yoongi?” He sighs into your mouth, looking at you.

“The truth.”

✹✹✹

“Maybe I should take the position. Because then I’d be your boss.” You mention, pushing Namjoon down into his chair. You grip the arms of the chair, leaning down to kiss him. He pulls you onto his lap, smacking your ass.

“Are we really gonna do this first thing in the morning?” He growls into your lips, and you giggle. “We have like...an hour before people start arriving. So yeah. We’re doing this.” You grip the back of his neck and weave your neck to access his lips as his head moves from side-to-side.

“Maybe I don’t want to, Boss.” He teases through a growl, and you bite your lip -- pressing your forehead to his.

“Well...then...you’re fired.” You whisper, your tongue slipping past his lips and into his mouth. He sucks your bottom lip as he pulls away, studying your eyes.

“That’s retaliation.” His dimples pop into his cheeks mischievously, and you place kisses on his neck -- feeling him grow hard underneath you.

“Mmm...well he seems to disagree.” You mention, and Namjoon gasps, grinding up into your throbbing core.

“Fuck.” You mutter, feeling yourself get wet the more he grinds into you.

Footsteps start to float down the hall, and you hop from Namjoon’s lap. You look around the room for a place to hide -- but there’s nowhere to be found in a glass office. You decide to burrow underneath his desk, and Namjoon quickly pulls his chair into his desk after you do.

“Hey, Mr. Kim! How are things going this morning?” Namjoon nervously puts his elbow down on the table and picks up a pen.

“Oh, you know. It’s going.” He chuckles, his eyes subtly widening at the janitor.

“I feel ya, man. It’s real crazy-“ The janitor starts.

“Yeah, um, I’ve got work to get back to if you don’t mind.” Namjoon uses the pen to point around the office. “You know, before everyone starts filing in.” He nods, satisfied with the lie.

“Oh! Yeah. Sorry, man. I just get so caught up.” The janitor responds, sweeping a few specks from the floor.

You sigh in relief as you hear the janitor’s footsteps leave the room, but Namjoon looks down at you and shakes his head.

“Mr. Kim! Good morning -- you’re here early!” Jimin exclaims, dropping his briefcase off at his own desk. He notices Namjoon looks bright and glowy as he rolls into his office, and he smiles at him.

“How was your night? Anything interesting happen?” Jimin pries, his hand on his hip as he scours Namjoon’s face for an answer.

“You could say that, I guess.” Namjoon chuckles, twirling the pen in his hand around his fingers. You circle Namjoon’s knee with your pointer finger, and you feel his body stiffen.

“Mind if I brief you now?” Jimin asks, looking him over -- and Namjoon tilts his head. “It’s...just that I want to knock out the rest of the work you gave me before the end of the day.”

Namjoon chuckles; of course this was the one day everyone was early, and of course Jimin wanted to brief him now.

Right now.

Your palm glides over Namjoon’s cock, and you slide your fingers over his shaft through his pants. You cover your mouth with a hand, holding back a snicker.

“Um, sure.” Namjoon’s voice comes out in a tremble before he sucks in air. “I know. I know it’s an intense, stressful schedule you’ve got coming up.”

Namjoon fidgets in his chair as you pull his cock from his pants, wiggling it to observe its satisfying weight.

“First thing’s first. Min has said that overall, it’s been a challenging fiscal year, but that your product and the CMO’s complimentary marketing pulled us into the black.” He says.

“A real Hail Mary.” Jimin continues, swiping the screen of his iPad to the next slide.

“Fuck!” Namjoon exclaims as you take his shaft whole into your mouth. “I mean...that’s really great news.” He corrects himself, and Jimin crunches his eyebrows together in confusion.

Namjoon leans his neck to the side, his hand balling into a fist to try and contain himself. He gasps, your tongue quietly swirling around his length.

A light, satisfied moan escapes your lips as you pull his cock from your mouth, licking its length.

“So-“ Jimin pauses and looks up, his eyes locking with Namjoon’s. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Namjoon asks, biting his lip -- praying Jimin didn’t hear you. “I think that’s enough for today?” Namjoon raises the statement like a question, and Jimin raises an eyebrow at him.

“Just wait..one more thing.” Jimin says, reaching to hand Namjoon a portfolio. “It’s the paperwork.”

You flatten your tongue and take Namjoon’s length in whole again, and he leans forward in his chair for relief. His hips subtly buck up to get deeper in your throat, and he twitches in your mouth. His load spurts into the back of your throat and you try to hold yourself back from choking.

The thick, sticky cum drizzles from your mouth and lands on your white blouse, and you scrunch your face, mouthing “Fuck.” to yourself.

“To be honest, I can’t remember the last time we got through a brief uninterrupted.” Jimin comments. “But to each his own.”

“I won’t be needing this.” Namjoon sighs in relief after his release, picking the portfolio back up and handing it to Jimin.

“But it’s for your promotion.” Jimin tilts his head in confusion.

“I’ll explain later.” Namjoon responds, shaking his head.

✹✹✹

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You lament, dripping water from a faucet onto your shirt. You pick up a Tide pen from the counter, frantically rubbing it into the fabric.

You came to the unfortunate resolution at this moment that Tide pens didn’t get cum out of shirts.

You blow at the stain and then dab it with a napkin before accepting defeat.

You toss the damp napkins into the trash and exit the bathroom.

You quickly shuffle down the hall, attempting to make it to the staircase before anyone sees you on Namjoon’s floor.

Jimin walks down the hall, catching sight of the back of your body as you run into the stairwell.

He smirks in relief, shaking his head.

✹✹✹

Both you and Namjoon sit across from Yoongi’s desk, awaiting his return to his office. You dig your fingers into the free spaces where Namjoon’s fingers rest on the edge of his chair, and you look up at him.

“I truly hope Yoongi takes this well.” You whisper, both of your lips embracing in a quick peck.

Yoongi returns, quietly sitting at his desk and observing the two of you.

You look at Namjoon and Namjoon looks at you, the both of you searching each other’s eyes to see who should speak first.

“To clear the very big elephant in the room...do you think I didn’t know about you two?” Yoongi asks, folding his hands together on the desk.

“You...know?” You ask, your eyes widening as you squeeze Namjoon’s hand.

Yoongi leaps back in his chair, laughing out loud -- the satisfied laugh nearly sinister. Yoongi swipes a tear from the edge of his eye, holding his chest to calm his laughter.

“You two are so obvious. Not subtle at all.” He gasps out, still trying to calm his breaths. “I should fire you both for violating company policy.”

Yoongi bursts into laughter again as he sees your worried expressions, and he wags his finger through the tears.

“Luckily. L-Luckily, I own the company.” He heaves. “And I’m giving you a pass.” He blows out air.

“Well...well that was part of the news.” You say, squeezing Namjoon’s hand. “We’ve always wanted to start something that was our very own.” You continue, looking over at Namjoon, and he nods. Your lips open cautiously: “We’re both resigning as of today, our last day fully effective in two weeks.”

“You’re totally fucking with me, right?” Yoongi asks before he stands up. You shake your head in response, and Yoongi collapses back into his chair.

“I have to admit...I’ve never seen the two of you happier, if I’m being honest.” His head drops into his hands as he falls into processing the dire reveal. “You both came in here young. Bright-eyed and bushy tailed. But...I saw you both fade in real time as you became hard-nosed execs on behalf of my company.”

Yoongi motions over his face. “It’s like the all light went out from your eyes.” He admits, looking up to study the both of you.

“You were both pivotal in the success of this company over the years, and I can only thank you for that. If being with each other is what brings you happiness, that’s the least I can give you in return.” Yoongi’s voice trembles a bit, and he clears his throat out of embarrassment; he wasn’t one to be choked up.

“Just don’t leave and become my competitor.” He chuckles, coming around to the front of his desk. “Now get out of my office.” He motions, shooing the two of you.

You giggle at Namjoon, and the two of you rise up from your chairs. You approach Yoongi slowly, looking at him as he tries to hide his forlorn eyes.

“Can I hug you?” You ask, and before he objects you collapse into his arms. Yoongi protests as Namjoon comes around to hug him as well, and Yoongi laughs as he melts into the embrace.

✹✹✹

“Well, well, well. Now we’re both the boss. How do you suppose we have hot hate sex now?” You ask, your fingers twiddling through Namjoon’s hair as you’re nested on his lap.

Floor-to-ceiling windows line the walls as far as you can see, and Namjoon wraps his hands around your waist.

The two of you are in a new, empty office space, and your eyes rove over to the desks and offices waiting to be filled.

“The money from that Blackjack game you beat me in while we were in Vegas came in handy for this new building.” He whispers in your ear before he places a kiss on your neck.

“But still kinda mad at you for beating my ass in that.” He chuckles, his voice vibrating in your ear.

“Seriously gonna hate fuck you again remembering that.” He growls. You giggle as he tries to put his hand up your skirt, and you lightly elbow him in the abdomen.

“Stop being naughty. They’ll be here any minute.” You pull your skirt back down, standing up and leaning on the front of Namjoon’s new desk.

Jimin and Taehyung both walk through the door of Namjoon’s new office, and you smile at the both of them.

“Well, if it isn’t our pesky love fairies.” You cross your arms, and Namjoon circles to the front of the desk with his hands in his pockets.

“Are you two ready to start work?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Taehyung responds first, giving you a subtle bow.

“We already dropped our things off at our desks and fired up our laptops.”

“Can we get you anything?” Jimin inquires, his brows raising as he awaits an answer. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Neither.” You respond, and Namjoon reaches behind him to pick up two silver nameplates. He gestures for the two to approach, and he hands them the pieces of metal.

“Associate…” The title doesn’t register until he reads it again, his brows coming together in disbelief. “Associate?” Taehyung asks, his voice rising up.

You laugh as the two jump up and down together, glee spreading across their faces.

“You’ve both worked hard...in more ways than one.” You giggle, hooking your arm in Namjoon’s. He lays his head on top of yours to affirm your statement.

“Just to show you both that all of the late nights...and plotting was worth it.”

All of you laugh in unison.

The four of you link your arms over each others shoulders and giggle as you approach the large windows — admiring the dazzling view of the city below.

navigation: ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | finale | m.list | ao3

[tracle0]

Something was very, very wrong, and he was absolutely certain it had something to do with the fact that a heart was beating in his chest.

Loud, angry shouts echoed in the air, familiar voices clashing in fury. Someone stumbled on the ground, a few meters away, cursed and righted themselves, backing away from him. Beneath his fingers, the grass was cool and wet, painfully numbing his hands. Panic pounded at his ribcage, scraped at his throat, strained to free itself. It demanded an outlet for its energy, encouraged him to get up and run away, but refused to provide any reason for the fear.

With a throat too dry to scream with, he whimpered to himself instead, a tiny, pathetic noise. Amongst the shouting, it shouldn’t have been heard, and yet in a matter of seconds, someone approached him. “Keaton? Keaton, are you alright? Can you hear me? Keaton?”

Keaton. Vaguely, part of his head recognised that as his name, the word that he answered to, chosen after months of agonising and searching and responding to a name that was not his own. The rest of his head was pulling itself in a thousand directions, screaming, fearful, angry, confused, scared.

He peered up from his knees, where his head had been buried. Everything was white, smoky, a few dark shapes moving amongst the mist, jostling and shouting. Wincing away from the commotion, he lowered his stare to the floor, watching the white. It didn’t move like normal smoke – it coiled, crept, reaching out to him in a friendly, gentle way. After a moment of watching, he brushed a hand through it.

Touching it bought a new jolt of panic, confusion, fear, so overwhelming he was almost blinded by it. Jerking his hand away with a sharp hiss, he tried to slow his breathing to a normal level but found the smoke still snaking towards him, seeking him out, desperate to share its terror.

At first, he wanted to scramble away, but his head and body weren’t co-ordinating yet, and it was surrounding him from all angles. When it started to creep closer, enclosing him in a smaller and smaller patch, he instinctively twitched his hand, and the creeping tendrils were pushed away by an invisible force, leaving a small, round patch of grass clear for him to stay in. And stay he did, eye sockets pressed into his knees, heart pounding, thoughts moving far too quickly for him to keep up with.

Keaton. Him. His name. His body, stiff and awkward as it was. His hands, buzzing, burning, why weren’t they buzzing or burning? He could remember them buzzing and burning and something bad had happened.

What? What? What had happened? Where was he? Who was he? Keaton? The name tasted right, but unfamiliar at the same time. Why was he here? How was he here? He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be breathing. Was he breathing?

Someone. Next to him, the same voice as before, one he recognised but couldn’t place. Whoever it was, he knew he trusted them. Why? How? Doesn’t matter. They were saying something, had been saying something for a while, a low soothing mumble for his ears only, words that didn’t make sense yet, words that were trying to help him. The voice came attached with an image of someone tall, holding a long pole and grinning, as if having just delivered a terrible joke. Not helpful. Not useful. He ignored it.

How long had he been on the floor? How long had he been breathing, thinking, cowering? How long had his eyes been clamped shut for? It helped his breathing slow down. It helped his shoulders relax. He kept his eyes shut, hugging his knees, gripping his arms so tightly he could feel the outline of the bone.

Bone. Bone. His bones. Peeking through his skin, his skin coming undone, he had watched it unwind itself, oh god, oh god, what had happened to him?!

Around him, the shouting continued. Someone fearful, nearby, words translating into meaning in his head over the new wave of panic; “Get out! Go away! Leave him alone!”

Someone angry, further away; “You’ve fucked him! You’ve fucked him! This is your fault!”

Someone muttering, almost out of his range. “This isn’t right. This can’t be right.”

Someone speaking, right next to him; “It’s okay. You’re okay. Don’t worry. We’ll get you somewhere safe.”

A blink and the shouting was gone, the quiet murmur next to him gone, moved to a hushed conversation a few meters away from him.

“Is he alive?” The frightened voice, the person who had been shouting was asking, a much calmer, more feminine voice. He recognised it again, understood it was someone he trusted, didn’t know how or why. With a closer vocalisation, memories swarmed him; a dark and dreary seafront. Braided hair blowing in the wind as tired eyes frowned down at a folder. Ranting passionately together about something not very important. They were good things to recall, sweet moments in the confusion he was drowning in, even if they did raise more questions.

“He’s alive,” the first familiar voice said, a masculine voice. “I think he’s a bit scared.”

A bit scared. That was putting it lightly. Granted, the pounding panic had subdued into pressing anxiety, but he was still more than a bit scared.

“Didn’t expect this as an outcome,” the first voice continued, picking at his words. “Didn’t think he’d…”

“No, me neither,” replied the second. “It’s a miracle. Alhamdulillah.” A pause, a moment of quiet, a moment for his head to calm down a little, then again, “Is he… are you sure he’s alive? Definitely alive?”

“Ask him yourself.”

“I’m here,” Keaton said quietly, eyes still screwed shut, the words bitter and foreign on his tongue. The hum of sound in his throat made his pulse race, but he swallowed it all down. “I’m alive.”

Someone responded, but the panic was drowning out words again. There was peace in the blackness, calm in the quiet, even when it came from ignored speech and shut eyes. He took what he could get, kept his head lowered, kept his terror as low as it would go.

Blink. He was being guided to his feet, someone holding his arm, gently narrating what they were doing as he was walked somewhere. For a few steps, he let himself be pulled through the dark, but quickly found it was more dizzying to walk with his eyes shut than it was terrifying to look around. He could be guided into some of the white smoke, stumbling into a suffocating trap of unmanageable panic. He could trip and fall. It was safer.

Logic didn’t make it any less terrifying. Fear was not logical. Fear cowered at the tapping of tree branches at a dark window, and the shuddering settling of the house at night. Fear flinched away from the unfamiliar and unknown and hid behind a pounding heart. Fear coaxed and nurtured an irrational thought process that kept him hunched over, keeping himself as small as possible as he stared around.

The only relief was the white smoke was now gone, but that was barely a relief; now he could see everything clearly. Images sang at him, high-pitched and straining. Everything jabbed at him, demanding attention. Bush. Grass. Fence. Tree. Bench. Path. People. Stone. Stones, plural. Floating all around, every single pebble and rock that had been on the ground was held in the air, perfectly still, as if poised to fire.

Too much. He shut his eyes.

Blink. Opening them again as the panic started to die down, he glanced up quickly. Sure enough, the stones were still there, frozen in place. Watching. Waiting. The people with him – one tall and white, by his side, the other short and black, leading the way, both familiar, both unnameable – weren’t ignoring the rocks entirely, but also weren’t giving any indication that they were strange.

Maybe it was normal. Maybe he hadn’t properly loaded the world in his brain. Something was clearly wrong with him right now. His heart was still thumping in his chest. His head was still screaming in panic. So what if there were floating stones all around him? It was the least of his worries.

Their presence wouldn’t leave him alone. After a few steps, with his head lowered to the floor, he murmured, “Are the stones meant to be doing that?”

If there had been a conversation before he spoke, it died as soon as the first word left his mouth. “No,” the second voice told him, coming from the black woman. A name nagged at his head, out of reach, almost taunting him. “You’re holding them.” 

“Me?” His voice was barely louder than a breath. Eyes stuck to the closest stone, he flicked his wrist experimentally, dismissively, and sure enough, it fell to the floor. Every stone fell to the floor, in unison, leaving the air empty.

“There’s no other telekinetics around, Keaton,” she said kindly, casually, unaware of the explosion this new information caused in his head.

Telekinetic. Moving objects without touching them. Yes. Yes, that was what he could do. But to this extent? To this degree? To the point that every stone in the limited distance he could see had been held aloft, held still? That was surely too much. Past his limit. Past a limit. What limit? He had a limit? He had passed a limit. Passed a limit and watched his skin unravel to reveal the bones in his arms as a result.

Horror swept up his throat. The person at his side jumped as Keaton tore himself from their grasp, stumbled to one side and threw up, stomach acid burning his mouth and nose, eyes watering. He shut them again as if it would hide the fact he was sobbing.

Blink. He was in a vehicle, a van, being driven through the night. An endless whirlpool of panic frothed and spiralled in his head, unwilling, unable to stop. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t who he was. Who was he? A name, an ability, a wave of terror, that wasn’t what made up a person. There was more. He just couldn’t remember it.

Eyes open again, he was met with a wide array of small figures, mostly of rats, all perched on the dashboard of the van, watching him. For a moment, he stared back, then glanced to his right. Someone was driving him, someone was next to him. 

Stranger danger. A warning flashed in his head, delightfully normal and much quieter than the fear that pounded with his pulse, and it almost made him smile. These weren’t strangers, anyway. It was the pair from the park, unnamed but trusted, both engaged in a conversation that he chose to ignore.

Whilst they were distracted, he took the chance to study them, try and recognise them. Next to him, on the second passenger seat, was the woman. Her wide smile as she spoke was something he had many memories of, and the way she flicked a long braid behind her shoulder was comfortingly recognisable. She was dressed in a warm, fuzzy jumper, not unlike the material on the neck of his jacket, and looked tired. That didn’t seem unusual for her.

Next to her, on the driver’s seat, was the man, his eyes stuck to the road, listening. His long, blond hair was falling in his face. The sight of it pulled a memory, a moment Keaton had asked about it. Does that not get annoying? He’d gotten a tight smile in response, then almost deliberately, he’d shaken more hair over his eyes. Sweet memories. Confusing memories.

More notable than the hair was his choice of clothes. If a headache could be a person, it would look like him. Or, more specifically, it would dress like him; luring you into a false sense of security with a reasonable, if overly large sweater, then punching you twice in the face with trousers with such jarringly bright patterns they should be considered a hazard.

Lots to take in. Turning away from the pair before they noticed him staring, leaning his head against the window, a hand over his face, he peered through his fingers at the world passing by. His eyelashes blurred the streetlights into bright, spiking strands, dancing as he was pulled through the night. Did he know this place? This town, city, street? Its roads were flat, twisting around each other like snakes wrestling. It seemed quaint, familiar, out of his grasp like so many other things.

It was getting to be annoying that everything was staying away from him. After a moment, as the conversation died down, he dared to ask, “Where are we?”

“Oh, hey, you are awake,” the driver said, delighted. “Are you feeling alright?”

“No,” he said bluntly. The window was cold, numbing his knuckles, providing something to ground himself against the tide of panic. “Where are we?”

“We’re in Mika’s van,” the woman said, which didn’t help much. Although he had first heard her shouting, it seemed very unlike her to raise her voice much at all. Whatever had happened earlier, it must have been bad. “Heading back to the hotel.”

Mika. Not his name, the name of the driver. It slotted into place, filling at least one frustrating hole. There was barely time to relish in the relief before the next scrap of information clicked in his head.

The image of a hotel had very little attached to it – a few specific memories of this pair in a room, talking, laughing, arguing. Him, sitting at a desk, eavesdropping on them as he worked on something, the same sound replaying over and over and over. The two of them hunched over separate meals, leaning against each other as they ate. Friendly. Soft. Welcoming.

So why did the mere mention of a hotel fill him with so much dread, such an overwhelming feeling of wrongness? It drowned out even his panic, leaving him with just the sound of his thudding heart and the creeping sense he didn’t belong.

Blink. He didn’t notice the time pass, but the van was stopped, the engine still and silent. Someone was speaking to him, the still unnamed woman next to him. “When we’re in the room, we can get you some tea,” she was saying as if that would solve all his problems.

“We’re nearly there now,” she was saying.

“When we’re inside, it’ll be better,” she was saying.

“Can you get inside?” She was asking. It felt like a demand.

“Lynne,” came a gentle warning. He barely reacted to the name as it slotted into place. “Give him time.”

Keaton wanted to say yes. The part of his head that grasped at every fact he uncovered, holding onto them carefully and keeping them safe and secure wanted to nod, regardless of cold sweat that was making him shiver and the sense of foreboding that turned the air in his lungs into needles. Telling the truth would be making a fuss, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Or – no, that was the second to last thing he wanted, beaten only by the certainty that he would rather die than set foot in the hotel. Why? Why was this hotel so dreadful? What about it was making him hunch so small, so tight?

The van doors opened before Keaton could find an answer. Eyes snapping open, he stared at the building – all bright lights, walls of glass, white accents. Beyond that, out of his sight but he knew the details were there – a polished floor, the smell of industrial cleaning, cloying, clogging up the air. Vividly, hauntingly, the memory of a reception, a desk, a bell. Three images that made his hands buzz.  

“I can’t go in there,” he whispered into his fist. “Something’s wrong.”

Blink. “Wrong?” Came a confused echo. Mika, outside the van, holding the door open for Keaton. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” He kept his wide-eyed stare on the hotel in front of him, tried to keep his throat from ripping itself apart with the held-back screams. “But I can’t go in. I won’t.” A pause, and quietly, so quiet that he almost didn’t hear himself; “Please don’t make me.”

“We won’t,” came an almost instant response. Lynne’s voice was drowning in sincerity. “Of course not. What do you want to do instead?”

Blink. “I don’t know.” Seven of the rat figurines on the dashboard trembled, lifting a little, and Mika glanced at them, nervous. Forcefully, Keaton unclenched his fingers, settling them back down gently. “I don’t know,” he repeated, softer. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he was told, Lynne’s voice almost stern. “Take your time. Figure it out.”

Blink. He needed to be somewhere safe. Somewhere secure. Somewhere dark and quiet where he could curl up small and ignore the world. The answer brushed by his fingers, and he grasped it firmly. “Home,” he breathed. “Please, take me home.”

Blink. The van, rumbling away underneath him. He had no idea where home was, but he was being driven somewhere. Time had swept past him, leaving him in different moments with no idea how he had ended up there. He could only assume something had happened in the meantime. He could only hope this wouldn’t continue much longer.

Thinking into the future made his head hurt, but not as much as trying to dig into the past. The future was supposed to be confusing. The past was meant to hold facts, opinions, memories, not a murky haziness.

“What happened to me?” His mumble had to travel through his hands and compete with the rumble of the engine for attention. There was no chance anyone had heard it.

“You don’t remember?” He jumped hard at a response, fear flaring up in his chest. Lynne flinched next to him. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Moving his hands from his mouth to make it easier to be heard, he rested them on his knees instead, bouncing them up and down to expel some of the panicked energy. The trembling of the van under him provided a soft buzzing, nowhere near as insistent and urgent as he was expecting. His bones were stable under his skin and it felt wrong, but thinking about how they had peeked through his flesh, letting the meat crumble into dust as they grew more and more exposed – it made every disk in his spine shake.  “Don’t remember what?”

He was so distracted by the wrongness of his skin wrapping around him he almost missed Lynne’s careful words. “Four days ago,” she said softly. “You… You, uh…”

“What?”

“You died, Keaton,” Mika said bluntly. “You died.”

[missinghan]

broken umbrella ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : high school au; fluff

❖ word count : 1,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : a typical day in your life starts with having candies poured over your head and ends with breaking han jisung’s umbrella. 

❖ note : I wanted to write smth dumb okay-

one.

Jisung gives his desk a harsh kick, one that does no good in releasing his inner storm, only to wince in pain later because he’s an idiot. 

Classes have been somewhat less than boring these days, partially because his mind is occupied with thoughts of you half of the time and partially because…well, more thoughts of you. Oh wait, today is a little different than usual considering the fact that you did not give him a proper response. 

To what?

Putting it simply, he woke up early this morning to go over his routine more thoroughly—styling his hair, making sure that his tie isn’t sloppy-looking, and spraying himself with his brother’s cologne. He doesn’t usually care for any one of those things until junior starts and you show up. Call him desperate, or delusional, or childish even but it truly felt like fate when you two first encountered each other. 

“Yeah right, fate,” Hyunjin snickers loudly, swirling a strawberry-flavored lollipop inside his mouth. “You meant when you fell on your ass on the bus the other day and you accidentally grabbed her collar?”

Jisung feels his cheeks heat up thanks to his friend’s less than necessary comment. “Shut the fuck up, you’re just jealous.” It was great. Not only did he fall head over heels for you, but he also left a bad impression. 

Back to the point. All of his hard work this morning is reduced to nothing because of the rain. His hair is messed up, his uniform looks sloppy, and his shoes are covered in mud from skipping through puddles. Not to mention, he showed up timely enough to be there when you opened your locker, having various candies and sweets poured down your head, scattered all over the hallway. 

Yeji should have told him you didn’t like sweet things yesterday, damn it. Because he’s never seen you giving him that look before. The look that makes him believe you will make him experience torment and pain, begging for the mercy that never comes—make his life a living hell basically. 

“How did your plan go, by the way?” His friend asks out of boredom. 

“Fantastic,” he replies under his breath when everything is, in fact, not fantastic. 

Hyunjin tilts his head. “Did she know?”

“Know what? That I’m in love with her? I mean I wasn’t trying to be subtle or anything-“

“No, did she know that it was gonna rain today?”

Shrugging, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in exhaustion; forty-five minutes periods should be illegal. “Why does that matter?”

“Hey, Han!” 

Jisung turns his head to the voice and sees Felix sliding the door to his classroom open, uneven breaths as if he’s been running for his life while holding two umbrellas in his arms. He glances at his friend’s state with a grimace, head cocked to the side in confusion. Luckily, no one really spends recess in class except for loners like himself anyway. “What are you doing?” 

“Y/N didn’t bring an umbrella!” The freckled boy exclaims with excitement, only able to coax an amused hum from Hyunjin. “But you have an umbrella, and it’s still raining! Which means…?”

A comical silence falls upon the three of them. It takes Jisung approximately five taps of Hyunjin’s finger on the table to fully process his friend’s point. Realization lights up in his eyes like a candle but dies down with a pout on his face. “But she can just go with her friends?” he says with expressive hands, though a little disappointed. 

“I’m not gonna half-ass it if I plan on helping you,” Felix gives the two umbrellas, a white one and a pink one, in his hands a slight jerk, looking oddly proud. 

This time, Jisung catches on immediately; his eyes go wide in shock as though his friend has committed the greatest sin. “Yeji and Lia are so gonna kill you.”

two.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” Lia asks while hopeless rummaging through her stuff. “I swear with my own eyes I saw myself putting one in my bag this morning.”

Yeji shakes her head in defeat, tugging at the straps of her backpack. “I was pretty sure I brought one too. I even used it to walk to the bus stop this morning! Someone must have taken it during recess,” she sighs, dreading the pouring rain and grey clouds. 

It’s raining again. It’s only been raining today, the weather forecast did predict that it’s most likely going to last for a whole week too (not that you bothered checking). You don’t mind the rain, though. You like the fact that they make the world appear mistier, hazier like a fever dream. 

What isn’t good about the rain is the fact that your parents won’t be too happy to see you come home looking like a wet rat. Or the fact that you’ll probably get a really bad cold, and that won’t be pretty during midterms week. Or the fact that most students are absolute idiots and didn’t bring their own umbrellas either. Everyone is shoving each other for space under the canopy at the main gate so the rain won’t soak their clothes. 

You’re not having it. At all. 

“Yeji, Lia. I’m going home,” you purse your lips together and take a breath. 

Lia frowns at your particular solution. “Already? But you’re gonna get wet.”

“My house is a ten-minute walk away. Shouldn’t be too bad,” you say lowly in faint annoyance, eyes squinted from the discomfort of lack of space; these students have no manners whatsoever, you’re getting claustrophobic. 

With a determined huff, you pull the zipper of your jacket up and throw the hood over your hair. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Shadow suddenly looms over the top of your head, warmth radiates to your clothed arm. In the corner of your eyes, a familiar face comes into view and forces a heavy exhale from your lips. 

“Hey, do you wanna go with-“ Jisung pauses midway when you take off running, shattering his fantasy of living in a drama into bits without mercy. ���Y/N! Wait up!”

three.

“Come here! Or you’ll get sick!”

“Why the hell do you care?”

“Y/N, stop being so stubborn! You’re gonna catch a cold!”

“It’s none of your business.”

After walking down several blocks down the road, past nothing but empty plazas and mostly closed café, you even take an extra U-turn, going through a skeptical alley just so Jisung will get tired and stop following you. Your effort doesn’t not prevail so you give up eventually, deciding to take the proper turn to head home before it’s too late to prepare dinner. 

The poor boy can feel the rain drizzle down his black umbrella before falling onto his windbreaker, soaking through the fabric to stain his senses with a chilling sensation. He has already calmed every racing thought that ceases to ease his erratic heartbeat but no matter how hard he tries, there isn’t one second where he isn’t thinking about your well-being.

“Hey,” he calls out; when you turn around, he’s closing his umbrella and tossing it to the ground, leaving it to graze the tip of your shoes. “Take it and go home. I won’t bother you anymore.”

You roll your eyes before picking it up, mercilessly letting it flop right in front of him. “I don’t need it.”

Jisung clicks his tongue in irritation, not caring that droplets are falling from his head and his skin is crawling from the cold. Somehow, he’s starting to become baffled for no reason. Perhaps it’s because of your nonchalance about the current situation; you shouldn’t be so apathetic when he’s genuinely worried sick for your health.

His eyes are heavy with rain droplets so he blinks them away before glaring at you slightly. “You need it more than I do. Would you please stop acting irrationally, take the umbrella and head home? The rain isn’t stopping anytime soon.” His leg jerks up to kick at the innocent object; still isn’t enough to relish the turmoil hurling his innards.

He brushes past you, shoving your shoulder a little while expecting you to finally accept his offer. To his dismay, you once again grab at the poor, poor umbrella, and throw it at his leg with more force this time. When it drops to the ground with a small thud, his heart pauses awkwardly in disappointment. 

The sun is going down by the second but you can still see the faint outline of his scowl. “Go home, Jisung. It’s getting late,” you remark coldly, stuffing your freezing hands into your pocket. 

With a loud groan, he marches back to where you two were originally standing, a curse word lingers on the tip of his tongue. But he manages to swallow it back down before gently tugging at the sleeve of your jacket. “Take the umbrella at least,” he voices softly, the crack more evident than anything at the end. “Look, I know I’ve been nothing but a nuisance since we first met. I just really like you and I care for you okay? Go home, Y/N.”

“Please.”

You look at him after moments, your once hateful eyes finally glinting with something else other than general distaste and annoyance. It only takes one glance of his tired eyes to pierce through your phlegmatic front, leaving your raw emotions out in the open. Before Jisung can say another word or take notice of the rare warmth creeping in your gaze, you take his hand in yours and pull him toward a nearby apartment complex to not wait out in the downpour any longer. By the time that you’ve released the grip, he’s still staring into the nothingness, eyes slightly wide in shock.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you gonna go home?” he blurts out finally after snapping out of it.

“This is my apartment complex. But I must have dropped my card somewhere. So I can’t go inside.”

A sigh. “Is anyone home right now?”

“My phone is dead.”

Jisung perks up and his hand fishes inside his pocket. “You can use-”

You inhale deeply, looking away. “Enough is enough, Jisung. Go home.”

“You broke my umbrella,” he mentions, blinking rapidly to bat the droplets away from his eyelashes. “I can’t go home like this.”

Few beats of silence later, a middle-aged woman dressed in a beige trench coat walks past the both of you, two high school students pathetically standing under the canopy like wet rats; she swipes her card against the security lock and the glass door pops open without much effort. Sparing you the last look, she’s probably thinking ‘kids these days’ before heading inside with a roll of her eyes. 

Jisung hurriedly skips over to hold the door open for you, motions for you to walk in with his head. To his surprise, you comply but bring your steps to a halt to situate yourself in front of him. His lashes are wet and heavy; that’s when you realize how soaked you both are and how terribly cold the temperature it’s getting. Your hand reaches out to brush the raindrops away softly, shaking his heart to the core. 

The silence is graceful in the wake of the moment, the rain in the background just makes everything that much more cinematic. However, Jisung isn’t in the right mind state to fanboy over the fact that his drama fantasy is one step closer to reality. He wishes to cling to this moment forever because he just can’t get enough. He can never.

“I’ll get you a towel,” you pull away calmly, thinking how cute he sort of looks when his cheeks are three shades redder. “And a new umbrella.” 

His smile has never been brighter, you notice. Even when he’s out in the brutal cold and completely drenched from head to toe. And wait...have his eyes always been so pretty?

[borzhone]

“right here where you want me” by borzhone on AO3

You can read it here on AO3! I’m putting it here even though it breaks my italics formatting because I want friends. Come say hello! If you’d like to leave a comment, I’ll be SUPER happy if you tell me which part you liked best (specific lines or general events).  

T, Familial Strife, Bruno Madrigal Has OCD

He puts his foot down just the once.

It isn’t when they’re sixteen, seventeen, far enough through the miserable barrage of triumvirate puberty—imagine the three of them, edges blurring into each other in bone-deep connection, in unspoken language, in a four-legged race, and then imagine them awash with hormones; one made painfully aware of the consequences of her mood on everyone around her, one accustomed to greeting the ironclad fact of his own blight of a presence with a worn acceptance, and one who considers it her responsibility to manage the fitful anxiety of the other two—that is to say, it isn’t when the triplets make it far enough through puberty for lingering and longing looks between age-mates (not peers, for who could be peers with a Madrigal?), when the town’s gossips focus the lens of their matchmaking attention upon those they consider newly eligible, when older children take to furtive hand-holding and stolen kisses. Pepa storms her way through three or four boys in a year, seeking romance-novel passion but finding only those unable to withstand the oppressive heat of her reciprocation. Julieta has taken to looking at Augustín, who comes to her table more frequently than ever now that he’s old enough to do the harder work around town, with an eye more discerning than before, with a shrewd indecision. Bruno has no one at all, only the stares and the whispers and a certain pity that, of late, has begun to shrivel into resentment. He foresees several awkward and unavoidable encounters, green flashes in the moments of waking, of stiff dinners with nice young women and their nice old abuelas, of Mami’s pointed stare at a girl who smiles at him even after the delivery of yet another awful prophecy, and of one girl who asks him to dance only because she’s lost a bet. He does not avoid these occurrences, has learned better than to try. He meets them all with a blithe smile and a quiet smothering of his writhing, knocking hands. He bears up under pressure with all the grace he can manage, which, in the end, is very little indeed.

It isn’t at their twentieth birthday dinner, either, to which Julieta has brought Augustín and Pepa has brought some boy who will be gone in a week, damp and cursing, and to which Bruno has brought several rats, under the cover of his fine green ruana, who scamper down his leg and frolic in the empty dining chair that was placed so thoughtfully beside him. Mami offers to remove the chair halfway through the meal, once the message has really sunk in, and throws in a few lamentations for good measure: ay, how lonely you must be, my Brunito, after all we did to try and find you a match, ah, well, we’ll fill the chair another year. Bruno smiles his tired smile and changes the subject, asks Julieta if she’s been experimenting with seasoning. She hasn’t, but she knows well enough to launch into a discussion of guascas and cilantro, the growing cycles of herbs and how helpful Pepa has been in regulating the crops, as Bruno cultivates a non-presence, a certain glassy-eyed quality of being impervious to any and all attempts to perceive him, such that there may as well be two empty chairs at the table.

It isn’t at Julieta’s wedding, and it certainly isn’t at Pepa’s. He sits beside Mami in the pews, her strong, laboring body just starting to go soft with age, bracketing her frail, nothing son between the brick and the ever-present black shawl. He grips hard at his own wrist in each ceremony, crushes the instinct to knock even as it rages like fire inside him, a need-need-need to make sure that Julieta’s marriage will be good and that he won’t ruin Pepa’s day worse than he already has. This is their day. He will do nothing to draw attention to himself. He will do nothing to pull Mami’s eye away from the sight of her beautiful daughters, her precious brides—nothing that could be perceived as a loneliness, as a jealousy of his own no-one, as wanting all that attention for himself. He isn’t lonely, and he isn’t jealous. When it becomes unbearable he drums his fingers in quiet sequence on the bench, one-two-three, one-two-three, and that’ll have to be good enough.

It isn’t when they’re twenty-nine, Pepa and Julieta round with child at the same time and commiserating on a daily basis, Bruno sat between them and laughing at the cozy kitchen hearth in Julieta’s room. Julieta guides his hand to her stomach, and his eyes widen with shock when he feels the baby kick—there’s a person in there, a whole person, with a foot  and everything . Pepa’s baby will be big enough to kick soon, too, and the look on his face when he feels not-yet-Dolores kick at his palm will be just the same. When Mami reminds him that he could have this for himself, if only he weren’t so stubborn, so private, you hardly leave the house anymore, how can you ever hope to meet a wife from atop your tower, you think someone is just going to hike up all those stairs and propose,  he gives a quiet snort and remarks that it would be terribly selfish of him to run off and find a wife now, when these two babies will need a tío so soon, and everyone laughs and laughs.

They aren’t sure if Isabela will be given a gift, or a room. Well—Julieta’s not sure. Mami walks her proud walk with the Madrigal candle and smiles down at the little girl and tells her yes,  tells her I know you will. Bruno knows she will, too, but he pretends he hasn’t been able to see this part of the future when he’s asked. Let the kid be a kid for a few months more, yeah? She’ll be a kid after, too, of course, but it will matter less. She’ll be a Madrigal first. He plays with Isabela and Dolores every day, lets their small bodies swing from his thin arms, lets them tug at his ruana and beg him for a story. He teaches them to be gentle with rats, with baby Luisa as they take turns brushing her fine hair. Tries to teach them to be gentle with each other, too. And when he sees Mami give him that look,  that you-should-have-this-too stare, it isn’t then, either.

It’s when they’re thirty-six. It’s at dinner. He spent the day bouncing between the nursery and its bassinets and comforting Luisa, who broke her father’s finger in a game and took hours to settle even once she saw that Juileta had fixed it. He’s tired, nicely tired, not the exhaustion of a vision or a nightmare but the well-used fatigue of a day spent helping—selfish, he knows, to turn his attention inward rather than outward, to busy himself with Madrigal children rather than scrying the fates of the Encanto’s children, he knows, he knows. But Dolores never looks at him in awe or fear, and Luisa laughs at his salt-throwing right at his face with uncomplicated glee rather than whispering behind his back, and Isabela grows him flowers and tucks them into his hair, and Mirabel and Camilo gasp and gurgle at the sight of him, and, and.

And it’s dinner. Bruno walks into the dining room and sees the empty chair, the chair next to his chair, and Mami shushes Dolores when she tries to sit in it and he knows exactly what’s going to happen without needing to use his gift at all. She waits until they’ve eaten, at least. Not that Bruno can stomach more than a few rat nibbles of bread and the odd spoonful of ajiaco. She clears her throat. Pepa’s eyes find his, wild and pained, and he gives a minute shake of the head. No point in avoiding this one. Julieta pulls Luisa into her lap and strokes her hair, jaw tight.

“Bruno, I wanted us to eat together, as a family, before I began this discussion.” He chokes the urge to knock as it flares into bright relief behind his eyes, as it curls his hands into fists in his lap. He drums at the underside of the table, near silent, although Dolores’ hard stare at the wood reminds him that he’ll never be silent enough. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. He’s added a knock in the past five or so years; tonight, he adds another for good measure. One-two-three-four-five. There. One-two-three-four-five. That’s good.

“My son, I wanted you to see the joys of family, here in our home, and I wanted to remind you that you ought to have a family of your own.” Her eyes are so, so kind.

He sees the trap. Considers it. Places his foot daintily inside it, lets it close. “Well, yeah, but me, the kids… you know, we’re all family, right? Aren’t we all Madrigals?” Julieta cringes, and Pepa shoots him a look. She doesn’t understand why he invites such trouble upon himself. Neither does he.

“Yes, precisely, Bruno. We are Madrigals.” Mami’s smile is warm, joyous with shared understanding. “And as Madrigals, of course, we have a responsibility to our Encanto. We have a duty to our wonderful community. We work, yes, and we use our gifts in the service of others, but we must also see to it that future generations are protected.”

One-two-three-four-five. One-two-three-four-five. His thoughts jar off track—he wants salt—no throwing salt at the table—it’s right there, though—he feels a distant roaring in his ears. If he excused himself, if he ran up his thousand steps and ducked into the hidden caverns of his cliff-face room, how long could he hide out before he ran out of food? If he jumped from his seat and out the window, how far could he run before he hit those impassable mountains? Could he bribe Dolores not to tell the others where he was? She likes his stories, he could keep telling her his stories, just let him be a mile away, he. He can breathe just fine. He isn’t sweating. There isn’t a sucking pit of dread in his stomach.

“Bruno, I know you have been stubborn on this matter. It is my fault—I thought I could let you come around to the idea on your own. But you are starting to get a little old for the bachelor life, yes?” She nods at the empty chair. “It is time, long past time, for you to find a wife.”

He thinks she continues. Talking about—what—acceptable matches, maybe, he hears Rodríguez and dinner and puts it together in piecemeal. Mami’s right there, right at the head of the table, but it’s like she’s a million miles away. He sees motion at the corner of his vision and his eyes flick over to Pepa, stroking at her braid, knowing as well as he does where this is headed. She should leave. It won’t be good if she rains on the table. He should tell her to leave. Shouldn’t he tell her to leave?

He opens his mouth and a protest built grain by grain over twenty, thirty years tumbles out: “No.”

 Oh, now you’ve done it. Idiot.

Mami falls silent at the double offense, the interruption and the refusal. “...no, Bruno?” Her mouth twists into a sorrowful line. “I think that you are not hearing me, my son. I am asking you only to do your duty, do you understand? You are a good boy, I know  you’re a good boy,” and she does not say,  despite what they whisper of you in the Encanto, “and your gift has helped many in this town. You understand what it means to be a Madrigal.”

Isabela, eyes huge, shifts her gaze between Mami and Bruno and Mami and Bruno. She’s working something out in her little head. He’ll have to talk this over with her, later, make sure she doesn’t get the wrong idea.

Anyway. He’s committed, now, hasn’t he? May as well have the whole thing out.

“Mami, no. I know I—I heard you, and, but. No.” He tries for a smile, the weak animal smile that splits him open, shows no teeth. One-two-three-four-five.

“Brunito, I see now that I have let my love for you cloud my judgment. You say no, now, at thirty-six, when your sisters have already shown you what it is you must do? Look how happy they are, Bruno.” No one looks very happy right now, of course. Pepa has amassed a little pile of red strands in her lap and she’s staring murderously at the ceiling, just daring it to cloud up. Clear skies, clear skies, he mouths along with her. Julieta is braiding Luisa’s hair. Félix and Augustín alternate between staring at their plates and staring at each other and passing furtive glances to their wives. Isabela, Dolores, and Luisa fidget aimlessly, not quite understanding why they’re all still sitting here, only knowing they cannot leave. “Why don’t you want such joy for yourself?”

“It’s not—it isn’t like that. I, you know, nothing against kids, or even—conceptually—getting married, it’s just, um, no?” He’s still wearing that weak-tea smile, that fruit-juice smile. He is on his back, vulnerable belly pointed to the sky. Something in him wriggles and pulls tight, snaps—he reaches for the salt in a quick darting motion and throws a pinch behind his left shoulder. Better. That’s better.

Mami’s lips pinch together as she tracks the movement. “...this is about what they say in town, my son? The whispers? Ay, I try to correct them where I can, but who among us can be everywhere at once?” Her brows fold into a picture of perfect misery. One-two-three-four-five. “I  know they are wrong, and you know they are wrong.” Does he? Does she? “Your gift has helped so many. Even when we cannot avert disaster, we can prepare for it. You were given this blessing because the miracle needed a way to warn us, to keep us safe. The miracle of the Madrigals speaks through you, Bruno. Why will you not let it speak through your children?”

“Mami, listen to yourself. You can’t honestly believe—no woman is going to want to—not with me, okay? Not with me. They all think I’m cursed and they’re right, who would want a husband who—who looks into the future and can’t do anything about it, I could, I could see her die, right? And, then, what, do I tell her? Do I not tell her? How can you ask me to bring someone else into this?” His chest heaves, heaves, up in down in great big gasps. His hands slip into fists and he knocks, so terribly audible, under the table: one-two-three-four-five. Julieta and Pepa notice the new count and share a terrified look, a what-do-we-do look, but Bruno is lost to the torrent pouring out of him. “And, and to ask me to bring a kid into it? What—what good could I possibly do? What good thing could come from me? A curse for a curse, right? Some horrible, uncontrollable gift?” He does not look at Dolores, he does not, only of course he’s thinking of the way she cried and cried the night she opened her door, hands jammed uselessly over her ears and her brain on fire. “Worse, worse: a lovely gift, a perfect gift, and then I get their pity? Poor, broken Papi, it must be so difficult to have Bruno for a father—”

He cuts himself off, holds his breath still and quiet until he can get his gasping back under control. Ten long seconds of total silence, broken only by quintuple beats of knocking, almost ceaseless in the way they string together.

Fat droplets of rain start to hit the tiled floor.

“I will do anything for you, Mami. Anything for the Madrigals, for the Encanto.” He draws himself up in his chair, scrapes together all the dignity afforded to a shaking, twitching, knocking man, a man with salt and sand in his pockets, a man who looks into fire and sees the worst of all things and does not understand: not much, not much at all. “But I won’t do that. I will not.” He bites down hard on a juvenile you can’t make me. He stands.

“Please, please don’t ask me again.”

He flees, vision blurring, to the sound of thunder over Pepa’s head, to the roaring in his own ears, knocking on each post and picture frame as his sandals pound blindly down the well-worn path back to his door.

Mami doesn’t ask again, but in the end it doesn’t matter. A few more years, Mirabel’s fifth birthday, and the empty chair will make a different kind of reappearance.

[baku-no-alt]

tokyo drifting

bakugou x reader

cw: some cursing, street racing au, crime??????, if you don’t listen to the song inspo i’ll cry

Ooh, now you're lettin' go Heart beatin' faster, feet pushin' on the floor Ain't nothin' better 

Hashiyara - that’s what they call him. A street racer, a speed demon, a criminal. 

And here, in this part of Tokyo, they call him the king. Bakugou Katsuki has won more street races than anyone else in the district, probably in the entire city. 

Katsuki runs a finger along the top of his steering wheel; it’s black leather, like the rest of his interior. It’s dark as night inside the car, and the paint job on the outside of the Bugatti matched, save for the bright orange accents on the hood and roof. 

He waits impatiently at the starting line for his next opponent to arrive. Apparently, it’s fresh blood - someone new to the circuit. It doesn’t make a difference to him, he’ll crush them no matter what. 

Finally, he hears the familiar whirr of an engine, and his opponent pulls up to the starting line.

The car is pink, so bright that Katsuki swears it's glowing. 

"Tacky," he grumbles to himself. 

The window rolls down and he finally lays eyes on the driver who's come to challenge him in his own kingdom. 

To his surprise, it's a princess. 

You stare him right in the eye with your arm resting lazily on your car door. 

Katsuki sucks on his teeth, rolls his eyes and looks away from you. But he glances back again when you move, and he glares at you as you raise two fingers, open in the shape of a V, to your lips. Your tongue hangs out over your fingers and you scrunch your nose and wink. 

And, most infuriating of all, you laugh at him when he grunts in disapproval. 

Katsuki can almost see the confidence (arrogance?) rolling off of you, like you're wearing it as a perfume. And it pisses him off. 

Angrily, he rolls his window up, unable to stomach the sight of you anymore, your laughter ringing in his ears. He takes a deep breath, willing your face out of his mind. He lets the breath out in relief when the starter walks between the two cars, arms raised. 

Katsuki lays one hand on the gearshift, and the other grips the steering wheel so tightly that the veins in his wrists start to bulge. His eyes are trained on the starter, and everything seems to go quiet - the calm before the storm. 

The starter throws down his arms and in a fraction of a second, Katsuki’s foot slams down the pedal. The roar of the engine fills his ears and his heart races, the exhilarating feeling of flying down the road sending him into a familiar adrenaline rush. 

His nostrils flare as he shifts gears, each powerful move of his arm sending his Bugatti faster down the road. It’s a simple race, a straight shot down a deserted highway, about 5 kilometers. 

With the roar of the engine and the rush of his blood in his ears, Katsuki is surprised when he can still hear your joyous shrieking because - is your window still down? 

It is - and you’re catching up to him, hair whipping around in the wind, a wild smile plastered on your face. He tries to keep his eyes on the road but he keeps glancing in his rear view mirror, watching you smirk as you shift gears. The way moving the stick shift forces you to throw your entire body into it makes him snort. 

Katsuki wants to be angry - he does, you’re being a dumbass - but the anger that he usually feels bubbling in his chest is nowhere to be found. 

You get closer, and he forces his attention back to the road. There was no way he was going to let a newbie beat him on her first try. The finish line is in sight, he just has to be faster than you for another 10 seconds or so.

You inch closer - you’re next to him, just a few behind now, with about 5 seconds to go, and Katsuki smiles, knowing you don’t have enough time to catch up to him before you both cross the finish line. 

The screech of tires grabs his attention and he glances over, just quick enough to catch you staring back as your car drifts sideways. He pushes his foot down against the pedal harder when he realizes what you’re trying to do; you’re trying to force him to slow down by pushing your car sideways in front of him. His Bugatti speeds up just enough to pull out ahead of your trap and you circle around to right yourself, tires screeching against the cement. 

Katsuki crosses the finish line with time to spare and you follow him a few seconds later. He exits his car and you do the same, and he shakes your hand briefly. His eyes travel up and down your body once, for just a fraction of a second. 

“Well ,it was worth a shot,” you say, winking at him again, “I guess you’re still the king.” 

Katsuki shrugs his shoulders, shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking down at the pavement. “That’s what they call me, I guess.” 

A few men from his crew come over and clap him on the back and congratulate him, showing him the money they brought in from the betting pools. Katsuki drowns them out as they sing his praises - it’s always the same shit. He takes a look in the duffel bags they have, and runs his fingers through the wads of cash. 

“Hey,” your voice cuts assertively, almost possessively through the chatter. You grab his hand and shove a piece of paper in it. “Call me when you’re ready for a re-match.” 

You walk back to your car and Katsuki watches you leave. The sound of your laughter still rings in his ears. 

Maybe the king wouldn’t mind having a queen around on the streets after all. 

You know that I get it, I'm on and I'm in it If you try to take it, the clip get extended I'm back on my bullshit, like Jordan, no Pippen If this is my life then I'm Tokyo drifting (uh)

~

tagging some of my favorite hoes even tho none of them asked lmao: @mindninjax @lookslikeleese @rat-suki @bakatenshii @theygottheircages @blahkugo @yukiimanic

[marcykinsmaki]

Since you write for all games can you write a s/o who at first couldn’t stand byakuya, mondo, kazuichi, and fuyuhiko but they comfort the s/o after a trial and they go from rivals to friends to lovers <3? Up to you if the guys disliked the s/o at the beginning too! If that’s too many characters the ones that really matter to me are byakuya and kazuichi! Thank you!!

HEYYYYY IT’S FINALLY DONE AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAANDAMDALKMDWAD cough cough cough. anyway. i only wrote byakuya because this piece is almost 5k words i hope you like it please love it anyway here it is.

Byakuya Togami x Reader.

Words: 4,365 (long)

CW: Mentions of suicide, heavy angst in the beginning, some suggestive moments.

Rating: Mature

--

You have to be kidding. This can’t be real. I thought he was bad before, but this? This is an entirely new low. He’s a jerk, a complete asshole who does nothing but make everything harder for everyone and laugh in our faces about it. Saying shit to hold us back, to make us confused and scratch our heads while he holds something we don’t. But messing with a body. A dead person’s corpse, for the sake of what?

“The motive of my actions is irrelevant.” I stared at him with a gaping jaw. “The thing we should be doing is figuring out the true killer. We know it isn’t Genocide Jack and now we know that it isn’t me.” Like that makes me feel better. He looks over to me, the sting of tears growing behind my sinuses. “Please, Y/N, keep yourself together. You’re going to catch flies if you keep that mouth open so wide.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and my hands grip themselves into tight fists, my body shaking with rage.

“Y/N, it isn't worth getting angry at.” Kyoko interrupts me before I could do something. “I think we’re all upset at this reveal, but we have to continue. It was an intrusion that no longer stands in our way. Let’s continue.” She replied before continuing on.

Eventually, Mondo slipped. Makoto caught his lie and called him out. The rest of the trial was a haze. We all watched Mondo get strapped to the motorcycle, ride into the cage and eventually come out as… that. Some sick fucking joke that is. We all stood after, looking at each other as we tried to hold ourselves together.

“Chihiro was a good person.” I finally broke the silence. They all looked to me. My eyes were locked onto the floor. I couldn’t stand to face anyone. “He didn’t deserve someone like you to be touching him and moving around his body so we could all get slaughtered for your stupid half second decision. And for what?” I muster up the courage to face him. “What was running through your head that this was a good idea? You know that you would’ve died, too. You’re all for other people speaking on your behalf or whatever stupid thing you have going on,” I began to step forward towards him. “, whatever God complex you fucking deal with. You are so far up your own fucking ass that you were willing to drag us all down for your dedicated fanboy shit? You hate when people mess around like low lives yet you built your own coffin, dug your own grave, locked yourself in your stupid little box, and buried yourself.” I eventually was face to face with him. The room was still silent. Even Monokuma didn’t say anything. Byakuya stared at me with the same unnerving judgemental gaze he held for everyone. “Stop circle jerking with yourself and get with the fucking program. People’s lives are at stake here, Byakuya. Take a drill and screw that into your head. I’ll even do it for you if you need help, because obviously you can’t see that we’re all hurting. I know you don’t give a rat’s ass, but you are a fucking asshole. And I hope one day that big ass ego dildo falls out of your gaping rectum.” I spat at him, turning and exiting the trial room. He looked disgusted by the time I turned to walk away, the silence failing to fall again as I walked out, tears streaming down my face and the pain in my chest and throat from the stress of this all finally settling in. I began to sob as I walked out and straight to my dorm. Chihiro was a good friend. He didn’t deserve this bullshit. I felt bad that Mondo died and his trauma or whatever, but Chihiro was just an innocent boy in a killing game that he didn’t deserve to be in. None of us deserved this. I found myself in my room eventually, the hallway down to my room seeming smaller than normal. I swing my door open, slamming it shut behind me and locking it. I quickly approach my bed, my body breaking down as I fall onto the mattress. My chest hurts from the sobbing, tired and exhausted from the excuses. My hearing diminishes and I relax, falling into a deep sleep.

“Y/N? … Y/N.” I hear a soft voice calling out to me. I slowly come-to and my eyes flutter open. A soft hand is on my back. My eyes fix to the figure standing in front of me. Hina. “Hey, you’re awake! Thank goodness, I’ve been standing here for like 10 minutes trying to wake you up.”

“Oh.. hey, Hina. Sorry, I guess I was just really tired.” I slowly sit up, looking up to her. She shrugs with a big smile on her face.

“No biggy. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. New floor opened up and we were all waiting for you, but no one wanted to check… just, you know.” She shrugs.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Sorry, again. I’ve just been stressed lately.” Pain settles in my throat, a hand raising to rub my neck.

“Will you plebians please hurry up?” A familiar voice sounds from behind Hina. I notice my door is open now, my eyes shooting up and Hina turning to see… Byakuya. We stand in tense silence for a few moments. “Don’t stare at me like dead fish, hurry the Hell up so we can get this done and stop being lazy.” He calls out to us again from my door, staring me down with an intense gaze before turning to leave us alone again. Hina turns back to me.

“Jeeze, I hate him so much.. Why is he always like this? Can’t he just be a team player for once?” She huffs. “Anyway, let’s hurry up so you can eat something. Not good to explore on an empty stomach!” She holds a hand towards me with a smile. I nod, reaching up to her and helping myself up, still in my clothes from yesterday and not bothering to change. Doesn’t seem to bother either of us.

--

After getting something to eat, I walk up to the next floor, reassuring Hina that I’ll be fine on my own after several minutes, watching her leave with Sakura. I began to walk out on my own, looking around and passing a random hallway I’ve yet to explore as I feel someone grab my arm and pull me aside, putting a hand over my mouth and nose, holding me close to them in silence. I struggle, and feel a hand grab onto my hips. My cheeks heat up.

“Quit struggling. It’s only me.” A calm, yet annoyingly familiar voice sounds out again. Byakuya. I quickly stop, my heart still racing. He can’t kill me now.. Way too early. He peels off his hands from my body. I quickly turn around with rage.

“What the Hell was that for, asshole?!” I retaliate. He chuckles a bit, only making me angrier.

“Keep that vulgar language out of your mouth. It doesn’t suit you, ruins your face.” He teases. I’m so confused, why is he acting like this? “My motivations for doing that isn’t important. What we should be doing is exploring the rest of the floor.” He nods, walking away as if nothing happened. I shake my head, trying to make some sort of excuse, turning the corner to give him a piece of my mind. But before that happens, he’s already too far gone for the effort to be worth it. I sigh to myself, just continuing forward and searching. I mean, what… what? Why? Suddenly he’s being all handsy with me, giving me no reason? Wonder what happened the last time he said that. Whatever.

--

Another body. Another trial. Jesus. My heart drops to my stomach. I was never really close with the two of them, but you can’t help but feel bad that after all that chasing and that fiasco that this is the outcome. A frown finds its way to my face. I feel someone tap on my shoulder. 

“Y/N. You will be accompanying me on my investigation.” Byakuya spoke behind me. I could feel his presence suddenly get closer to me, instinctively turning and backing away. He has a smirk on his face. “I’m not taking no for an answer, so wipe that petty look off of your face, Y/N. Please.” I immediately shake my head a little in disbelief.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? You’re going to be conducting the investigation with me. Now.” He refused to explain further, as always. I’ve gotten used to this, but him saying the word please. I never knew it was part of his vocabulary voluntarily. I follow behind towards the first body, my heart beating in a way I never knew it could before. At least, not for someone like this. I must be going crazy. I must be hearing things. Someone pinch me. “Hello? Must you be incompetent right now? We have a case on our hands and we need to finish it, L/N.” He almost snarls at me. I roll my eyes and join him, a smirk taking over his face for a split second only he and I could see. I feel the same invasive heat flooding my cheeks, unable to stop the red blush filling my face afterward. I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay? You look really…. Red.” I hear Aoi speak behind me. “Are you hot-”

“No, Asahina, they’re coming with me. Thank you very much, I can assure you that they are fine.” Byakuya interrupts her. She huffs towards him, puffing her chest out with dominance.

“Whatever. Please stay safe around him, Y/N. He can be… dangerous. I don’t trust him that much.” Hina looks to me with a concerned expression.

“I can handle myself, don’t worry. I won’t let him do anything.” I reassure her. She smiles and nods, as I return to Byakuya’s side. I feel like a damn puppy, walking by his side and coming to his beck and call.

“Well? Get to work. I don’t want to be here long.” He speaks softly to me. My body stiffens, nodding as I go down and begin my investigation. The rest of this goes on in silence, his eyes burning holes into the back of my head. It sent chills down my spine when I would look up to him from the ground, which he actually made me do, but was completely unnecessary. He just looked me up and down, and shrugged, every single time I asked if I was done. He physically would not let me leave. I never understood why he did that, and I don’t think I ever will, but eventually, we had succeeded, a wide smile on my face from finishing.

“Finally! God, I thought I’d be on the floor all day.” I sighed, joining Aoi and Sakura’s side, which I had made good friends with by now, being a kind of trio at this point since the first trial. But before I could join them, to our collective dismay, Byakuya cleared his throat.

“I didn’t say you could leave.” He kept his eyes off of us, refusing to look at me, having this long look of betrayal on his face. I sighed.

“Sorry, Hina; Sorry, Sakura, he’s been like this since the investigation.” I apologized profusely, the two looking at Byakuya intensely as I joined his side. He looks over at me one last time before we all went onto the elevator, going down to the trial room.

--

The trial was long, and the execution was brutal. Kinda funny, but brutal. I quickly join Aoi and Sakura after, Byakuya giving me a dirty look. I shrug it off, joining the girls for some quick after-execution down time, Aoi quickly suggesting donuts and tea,  Sakura making sure she doesn’t go overboard, knowing how she can get with this stuff. We laugh at each other, and I swear I see someone out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head, and in a split second they’re gone. But I’m used to seeing things after stuff like this, just my brain messing with me.

... Right?

Later that night, I returned to my room after about an hour of talking out our feelings with the other two. I’m just hanging out, resting my eyes until I drifted off, only to be interrupted by my doorbell ringing. I sat up, stretching a little, scratching my head and approaching the door. I open the door, and it’s suddenly flung open, which makes me step back in defense.

“Don’t fret, it’s only me. You should really be more careful of who you open the door for, I could have been a wild maniac coming to rip your throat open.” He makes his way into my room, without even asking. Which for him is in character, of course. I groan, rolling my eyes all the way back into my head, hoping they’d stay there. “Oh come now, don’t act like you aren’t surprised.”

“Trust me, Byakuya, I’m not, now what do you want?” I close the door behind him, staring at him with intense fury. 

“I’m here to propose something.” He turns to me, arms crossed against his broad chest. I sigh, shifting my weight to one leg, my eyes now being washed over with exhaustion.

“What.” The words fell out of my mouth carelessly.

“I wish to form an alliance with you.” My eyes widen. The same smirk returns from before. He knows how to get under my skin. He began to approach me, slowly. I back up at the same pace.

“An alliance?” I tilt my head a little. He nods.

“You help me in my every day life, like an assistant, and you help me during investigations,” He continues towards me, me not paying attention as I suddenly feel the heel of my foot against the door. We were already at a distance, him continuing his approach silently, and soon getting close enough to where he places a hand next to my head. “, and then I’ll gift you with certain information and grace you with my presence and willing conversation.” He speaks in a lower tone now, a rasp in his voice and rumble in his chest I’ve never heard before brushes against my ears. The unwelcome yet obscenely familiar warmth comes to my cheeks. He chuckles, bringing a hand and brushing some hair that’s sitting in front of my face. “Do you think you can do that for me, Y/N?” I squint up at him, trying to think of a way to escape. He looks at me with some tone under his eyes that I can’t read. After a few passing moments, I finally answer.

“Fine. Yes, whatever, can you leave me and take your weird antics with you?” I spat. He squints.

“Be ready to get up earlier. When you serve me, you must address me as Mr. Togami. Otherwise, you can just call me Byakuya. Please present yourself nicely, you are beginning to represent me, now, so your expectations are even higher coming from me.” He assures me, finally letting me go, backing up so I can step away from the door. I quickly grab the handle, opening the door oh-so-graciously for him. “Be up by 7, at least. And be in the cafeteria by 8 to 8:30. Sharp. I don’t tolerate tardiness.” He nods, exiting finally. I slam the door behind him, grunting loudly to myself. Thank whatever God is watching over me that these walls are soundproof.

--

8 a.m. came faster than I wanted it to. I was up by 7, out of the shower by 7:15, ready by 7:45. I arrived earlier than expected, Byakuya looking up to me in the cafeteria from the open book in his hands, us being the only ones in the room. I approach nervously, hoping this is up to his expectations. Why is my heart beating so fast for a man that doesn’t give half a damn?

“Good morning.” I fill the open air. He looks back down to his book. I squint at him. “Good morning.” I repeat. I’m confused. I stand staring down at him, and after a good while I finally realize what I’m missing. “Good morning, Mr. Togami.” I force, rolling my eyes. He frowns into a disappointed look.

“Finally. Good morning to you, too. Watch your tone next time.” He snaps back at me. “Do you know how to make coffee?”

“Kinda.” I shrug. He sighs.

“Thank God they are competent enough to give us the proper technology for it to be easy. Go and figure it out. Keep it plain black. No creamer, no sugar.” He doesn’t look back at me. I make myself keep up the tolerating demeanor. I approach the kitchen and finally manage to make something. I bring it back and hand it to him. I see him mumble something before he takes a sip. I cross my fingers, not wanting to deal with his whining.

“Not bad. Go fix something, the others will be here in about an hour and I don’t want to be here for it. We’ll be off after we eat.”

I make myself some breakfast and finally get to sit and eat, finishing before the others get here as to not piss Byakuya off more than he already is this morning. I put our dishes away and return to him, as we retreat to the library.

“Mr. Togami?” I decided to comply to his commands for now, it’s easier for him to respond to me. Ego.

“Yes?” I hear a pleased twang in his voice. It strikes me surprised.

“Why am I doing this again?”

“Doing what?” He doesn’t look back at me as I walk behind him.

“This whole thing. Getting up at 7 in the morning, dressing up all nice, addressing you as Mr. Togami, being your servant? Is this really all necessary for an alliance if all you’re going to do is sit there.”

“I know things you do not, being the head of the Togami Corporation. You will sit there and be pretty for me and do as I say,” The pretty part made my heart skip a beat. God, we’re barely two hours into this and I’m already catching feelings for a spoiled brat. “, and I will assist you during investigations and let you in on bits of information.” He nods, swinging the library door open, failing to hold it open for me as I catch the door before it closes on me. I quickly follow behind, as he reaches down for a book sitting neatly next to a chair already pulled out by a random desk. “Glad we’re on the same page now. You’re free to do as you wish in here.” He looks up to me for a split second as he sits in the chair, crossing his leg and the air around us is still with silence much more. I sigh quietly, rolling my eyes internally as we spend a majority of our day in the library.

--

The next days are mostly the same. I started to read new books and would run small errands for him. I would try to make small conversation, but not a lot worked. He’d smirk at some of my jokes (that he tried to mask), and reply sometimes, but he wasn’t a very social person anyway. Another body discovery passed, and it was heart wrenching. This investigation was more painful than the others, seeing one of my close friends pass away right under my nose. And for Aoi for be lying for her? Behind my back? I get she’s as upset as me, and we don’t have to experience another execution, but it… gets under my skin more than I expected. Aoi looks to me with sorrow after the trial, but I just shake my head as I exit the room with teary eyes. I’m backstabbed… again? Twice, in the same day? They explicitly kept it a secret from me. Why? I shut out Aoi’s voice behind me. I stormed to my room, slamming and locking the door behind me as I enter. It’s been a long day. Byakuya’s been giving me shit all day for not being fast enough. Sorry I didn’t know Sakura killed herself, asshole. I flopped onto my bed. The only thing that kept me safe during these times. I had a moment or two to relax and let myself cry before I heard my doorbell ring.

“What.” I call out carelessly.

“Do you think you should be talking to me like that?” Byakuya speaks from behind my door. I know that tone, so I push myself up and open the door for him and let him into my room, but he stands there. “Well?”

“Do you think you should be talking to me like that?” Byakuya speaks from behind my door. I know that tone, so I push myself up and open the door for him and let him into my room, but he stands there. “Well?”

“No. Sorry, Mr. Togami.” I mock. He shrugs and enters.

“Good enough. Sit.” He pulls up a chair and places it next to my bed. He sits on the chair, waiting for me. I sit on my bed, looking up to him with puffy and teary eyes.

“Why are you here.” I stress.

“Because Aoi is whining to me about how bad she feels for lying to you. She begged me to come in here and convince you since I’m the only person I’ve let you see. She said I’m your friend for whatever reason.” He shakes his head. I keep my eyes on him as he speaks. “Anyways, can you please take care of her? She’s pacing all throughout the hallway for no reason. I’ll be waiting in here.” He leans back, waiting for my departure. I stare at the door, slowly pressing myself towards it and opening it, looking past it to find Aoi. She turns to me with a broken smile, tears falling down her tan cheeks. She sniffles.

“Hey.” She speaks to me silently. Almost in a whisper.

“Hey.” I return it.

“I’m really sorry, but I couldn’t tell you. I promised her. And I know it would have gotten us killed and you all would have suffered, but she was hurting being here. I hope you can forgive me.” She looks at me with glassy eyes, puffy from crying. I stand there for a moment.

“Yeah, sure. I’m sorry for flipping out on you instead of listening to you.”

“Hug?” Aoi began to open her arms for a hug. I nod, walking to her and hugging her tight. She whispered into my ear lowly. “You know, I think Byakuya has a crush on you or something. Or maybe he’s obsessed.” She giggles. The same nervous feeling returned to my heart. I shake my head.

“Absolutely not. What makes you even think-”

“Maybe the fact that he treats you nicer than the rest of us. Has more patience with you. Speaks to you in a less serious tone. Actually talks to you for more than 5 words without insulting you. Wants to spend time with you a lot. I don’t know, I’m just saying, maybe you should think about it being a possibility.” She shrugs, pulling back to look at me with a glint of hope in her eyes.

“Hmmm, let me think about it; a big ego-centric dude with daddy’s money and balls big enough to lie to his classmates whos lives are in danger. No thank you.” I pull away completely now, smiling. She smiles back.

“Oh come on. I don’t like the dude that much, sure, but it’s super obvious. The way he looks at you, it’s insane. Now go on, your prince charming is waiting, Y/N~” Hina winks, turning and walking back off to her room. I shake my head, returning to Byakuya in my room. He’s sitting in the same position as last time.

“Welcome back. I’m assuming it went well.” He stood, approaching me. Maybe too close. Hina can’t be serious..

“Yeah. We made up and stuff.” I nodded, crossing my arms.

“I’m sure you did. Same time tomorrow, Y/N. And please, call me Byakuya now. You’ve graduated from Mr. Togami.” He walks by me to the door. My jaw drops, turning to watch him.

“Oh wow, thank you so much, Mr. Togami, how can I ever repay you for such a lovely promotion. I have been training so hard for this my entire life. I am eternally grateful.” I stare into the back of his head. I swear I hear a chuckle before he walks out of the door, softly closing it behind him… that’s new. I shake off the thought by moving before it could even come to me. Exhaustion catches up to me, and I yawn as I sleep to the next day.

--

A.N.// I got really lazy. I’ve been writing this for weeks and I’m exhausted. So sorry I didn’t write more friendship content but I wanna keep this moving so here we go.

--

The biggest trial of our lives come. Junko Enoshima herself has revealed herself to us. She’s even more egotistical than Byakuya, and that’s saying something. She parades herself around like her shit doesn’t stink and basically blames this killing game on us. Which is entirely untrue, no matter how she words it. But after a good while of debating, looking between all of my friends, and determination to survive, we persevere through her antics and take her down, leaving us only to leave to the outside world that awaits us, no matter how fucked it may be.

“Finally, I never thought we’d make it this far..” Aoi sighs, the final seven of us approaching the gate.

“Seriously, I thought we were toast back there…” Yasuhiro’s still a little shaky from it all.

“Well, we’re here now and we’re finally escaping, so let’s focus on that first. Y/N, come, please.” Byakuya adds, only to look at me. Toko is giving me the death glare. If looks could kill. I turn to Byakuya and approach him. He’s looking back at me to someone. I try to look back, but before I can he grabs my chin and guides my face to his, pressing a kiss to my lips. A deep, unexpecting one, in fact. I can feel the smile on my lips, the same mischievous smile he’s always held. I slowly return it, and Toko’s now screaming up a storm as Aoi holds her back.

“Don’t worry! Totally not saving your guts right now! Just forget about me!” She sighed frustratedly, Toko crying her head off. We finally part, my chest pounding away like a heavy drum as he stares into my eyes.

Byakuya Togami, an ego-centric asshole who kisses people to overwhelm them when he has feelings for them he won’t admit to himself. What an enigma of a man.

//

OKAAAAYY OH MY GOD IT’S FINALLY DONE. thank you so much for your request!

[katsuki-cutie]

Do You Really Love Me? - | Tomura Shigaraki X Reader |

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Request - Hiya! Can you write yandere! Shiggy with a s/o that loves him, has a healing quirk and she really cares about him? Even though in the past he's been creepy and violent fluffy please :))) Its nice to see more people writing for Tomura cuz he's very cute.

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Genre - Yandere | Angst | Dark

Warnings - Stockholm Syndrome / Reader excusing absuive behaviours towards themself / Abuse / Strong language / Yandere / Shiggy being mean and abusive / toxic relationship / mention of heavy mood swings / dark themes / manipulation

Summary - Shigaraki has finally broken you and now living without him seems like your idea of hell.

Authors Notes - I agree, Shiggy is cute! I wanna give him a cuddle tbh! I made the reader in this kinda obsessed with him 😳 Hope you like it!

{ Please Read Warnings Before Proceeding! }

‘just a few more minutes’ your eyes scanned the room as you waited patiently for your love to return home. Oh you loved him so much. It was a love for him that no one else would ever understand - he was your every thought, he was the reason for every breath you took, he was the reason you lived and breathed still. He took care of you, no one else could take care of you like he does.

A few footsteps. ‘He's here’ your mind raced excitedly. You could even hear him scratch his probably sore neck. You hated when he did that, you really hated it. It meant that he was hurting himself and your quirk itched to help him but he refused every time.

He opened the door and you nearly pounced on him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your head into his chest. “Oh I missed you so much!” You whispered, on the verge of tears. 

“Shhh, shh now” he chuckled, petting your head and unhooking your tight grasp from around him. 

“How was work?” You wiped your eyes from tears. 

Ever since he'd taken you. In your eyes, rescued you. Your mood would swing like a wrecking ball, he was the only thing that made you feel emotion really, even your favourite foods or films weren't enough - instead you'd huddle against him, intently looking at him. You were obsessed with him. You were broken to become obsessed with him. 

“Tough - come here” he muttered, pulling you roughly in front of him. He sat down at the table and showed you his bleeding and bruised arms, a few more sores on his back too. “Fucking rat shit heroes” He voice bounced in pitch, making it hard for you to decipher his emotion. 

“Let me help! I hate them! I hate them all!” You yelled, wanting to scream, wanting to scream at the people that had hurt your love. You used to scream for the heroes to help save you, to find you living with this monster who had taken you from your free life. Funny how people change and how people can change a persons perspective. 

You gently kissed Shigarakis wounds, the skin beneath them healing almost instantly. 

“Why can't I come with you? I wanna help you - I wanna keep you safe” You knew that you shouldn't question him but you were desperate. So blinded by your love for him that you didn’t care about the consequences.

“You know the answer to that question - don’t ask again, you know why you’re here, you have to stay safe for me, there are bad people in this world and I will die before I let anyone come near you” He gripped your arm, fingernails digging in to your skin as he stared at you. “Get to bed, you’re tired”

You curled up in one of his shirts, sobbing into the fabric. You hated when he hurt you, it reminded you of what he used to do, it reminded you of a time when you didn’t love him.

He slipped under the covers next to you, pulling you into his arms. “Shh, shh now” you buried your head into his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I- I just love you so much” upon hearing your desperate voice, he chuckled, his voice raspy.

“That’s alright sweetheart- it’s all alright”

[blueberrypossum]

Just in the Nick of Time

Dastardly Danny x Reader

Hiya guys! Did I totally write about Danny saving you on a motorcycle from @bootyyy-shaker9000 and @greaser-wolf posts? Yes. Yes I did. I love writing these kind of scenes and I hope you guys enjoy!!

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️: There are inappropriate words and violence.

(I will be placing your friend’s words in pink so then the reader's words don't get mixed up.)

“Okay, I think that was just a little too easy.”

“Hey, don’t jinx us.”

Your friend held the window to the abandoned factory as you crawled through it, once your feet planted on the dumpster, you took a hold of the window frame and watched as they climbed through. 

You’ve both been staking out this place for weeks, following an opposing group of thieves that had recently robbed a bank. One thing that was easy with your job was that you didn’t steal from public places, but from other thieves and criminals, making the criminals run away from the law without an award, and no one suspecting you or your friend of having the prize. 

Your friend finally made it through the window and you hopped off the dumpster you both were standing on, your shoes splashing into a puddle as you landed on solid ground. You took in a huge breath, taking in the moist and breezy wind of the Hidden City.

You pulled out your phone and quickly texted Dastardly Danny, saying that you had a wonderful surprise and to meet you a few blocks from here.

You slinged your backpack over your shoulder as you both made your way down the alleyway, the flickering dim lights of the city casted a faint dust of yellow over you. Your fingers barely scraping over the brick wall as you checked to make sure the guards that were posted out front were still there. 

Your pocket vibrated and knew it was a text from Danny, but it would have to wait.

You raised your hand to stop your friend as you spotted the two yokai’s; a grey ram and a purple reptile stood still at the front of the warehouse. You brought your black covering closer as you turned to your friend.

“Okay, we’re going to wait until the daily van comes around and distracts them.”

“Ahhhh Y/N…..”

“Shhhh, you know to whisper.”

“Not when they already know we’re here!”

You were so worked up about getting out that you barely noticed the huge shadow that was casted over you, almost like a blanket. You instantly turned to see the huge lion yokai that loomed over you, his yellow and busted up teeth matched the mixed up lights that hung above. 

“Haha. Ah shitt RUNNN!” You called out and you both scattered in opposite directions as his golden paws came slamming in the spot you both squatted at mere seconds ago. 

You booked it past him, your legs carrying you down the long street as you heard the henchmen scream orders at each other. Your eyes barely caught your friend making it out, their figure disappearing into the night as they headed down twisted alleyways. Your heart prayed that they would be okay and raced away once the thieves gave chase towards you instead.

The backpack gravely weighed you down as you swerved into a tight alleyway, your body and the bag barely fitting as you pushed in between the red walls.

A yelp escaped your lips as a huge hand wrapped itself around your arm and turned to see the glowing eyes of the reptile, his mouth opening to let out a long hiss.  

“Let go!” You screamed and your mouth instantly went for his hand, your teeth sinking into his fingers. The yokai grunted and his grip on you eased just enough for you to shake him off and to continue on through the crack, a laugh whistling out of your throat as you made it fully through. As the henchmen chatted about how to get through, your eyes scanned around you to find a way out.

The alleyway leads you to a small, squared area, where the only way out were doors to buildings, the way you came, or a ladder leading up to the rooftops. The yokai’s started to punch and kick the bricks out of its structure and with each pound, fear started to tickle down your spine. Since you didn’t want to see if the doors were unlocked and wake up an upset homeowner, you turned tail to the ladder as the yokai’s started to make their way through the destroyed alleyway.

Of course you didn’t bring any weapons with you on this mission, your friend told you that they were just mindless idiots. 

You made your way up the ladder and the chase began with you sprinting across the flat rooftops and the three yokai’s after you. You heard one of them radio in about some van and you could hear the screeching tires of a car coming down the street below you and you let out several curse words as you hopped over another building. 

Luckily for you, you weren’t the only one who heard it. 

The reptile had caught up to you and his hands seized your backpack and pulled you back, the bag slamming into his chest along with your elbow. 

The purple yokai wheezed as you made contact with his stomach again with your elbow and then your heel against his foot. You continued onward once he buckled and you could feel your lungs start give out as you jumped to a lower building, and then lost every ounce of air when the ram landed on your back, sending you both down. 

A wheeze escaped your throat as you rolled over and then dodged a punch from his black hoof. Your hands scraped across the concrete roof as you tried to get onto your feet, but the lion yokai lept behind you, his claws digging into the backpack as he threw you through the air like a ragdoll. 

You held onto the straps as his claws ripped through the fabric and sent you flying off the roof, your body hopping off a hanging tarp from a crafting store, and rolled out onto the street, your bag barely giving you a soft landing. 

You groaned as pain rippled through your body and the street under you started to vibrate. Your eyes opened to see a pair of bright headlights starting to race towards you from a few blocks away, but that wasn’t the thing that made the ground under you move. 

You barely had time to roll over as you saw the motorcycle make its way through the alleyway near you and onto the street, the dark colors blazing against the hanging lights as the yokai tipped his large hat up. You watched as Danny extended a hand to you as the van raced closer, the lights illuminating his smirk.

“Hop on, toots!”

You couldn’t help but smile as you took his hand and he lifted you up effortlessly onto his bike, your arms wrapping tightly around him as his foot slammed onto the gas, the warm breath of the van barely touching you as you both took off. Even with the car chasing after you, you took in Danny’s comforting scent as you held on tighter, your fingers digging into his sides. You honestly thought for a second that you wouldn’t make it, and with your bruised ribs and your pounding head, you knew it would be hard to run. 

“How are ya holdin up? Where’s yer friend?”

“We got separated, and the empty lungs and busted up chest feels lovely.”

The rat yokai took a hard right, his tires barely being able to handle the friction and an eerie screech echoed through the night. You leaned yourself against him, his coat flying around you as the van continued to follow you throughout the city. A sigh escaped your lips as he ran his hand over yours for a split second before he had to make another quick turn. 

“Oh I’m so glad I texted you! After this, we are going to your favorite restaurant, my treat,” you screamed to him, a small gasp followed as the bike did a small bounce over a hill. The rat yokai chuckled as he looked back at you, his eyes narrowed due to the blistering wind, but they gleamed with excitement.

“I should be saving you more often then, doll,” he commented back and then went off road, the dark gravel of dirt and rocks was painted behind you as Danny took you both towards the shipping docks, the van stopping just for a split second and then continued to pursue. 

The chunks of earth nicked against your legs and you winced at the small but piercing pain. 

“Ah, Danny, sweetheart, you do have a plan to lose them, right?” You asked as the van was dangerously getting closer to the back of the bike, you could almost make out the yokai’s in the van. Your boyfriend’s head looked from left to right and then a double take as a devilish smile crossed his lips. 

“Yes I do, hold on, darling!” He hollered as he pushed further into the pedal, his hands working the handles as he led the van into the crowded part of the shipping docks, stacks of metal and work equipment littered the area. You let out a yelp as you lowered yourself into him, your eyes instinctively closing as he raced you both into rows of storage units, the roaring of the van getting closer as you buried yourself into him. The rat’s heart melted as you pressed yourself against him, but it also hardened at the sight of you scared and how bruises had already started to settle against your skin.

Oh yeah, he was going to make these yokai pay.

He moved his motorcycle ever so slightly to the right, his eyes finding the lever he had been seeking out throughout the whole shipping area. As you both passed it, his tail slapped the rod until it switched to its opposite side and Danny looked up to watch as the storage container being helped by a crane was dropped from its holding. The rat pulled his bike back to do a wheelie as the van was crushed beneath the weight of the metal, the cries of the yokai barely being heard as the front wheel of the motorcycle screeched against the sheet metal of the docks. 

Danny slowed the bike down until it came to a stop and you opened your eyes, shock spreading over your face as you took in the sight. Your grip on the rat loosened as he steadied the weight of him and the bike on his leg. You both were breathless as you watched the van catch on fire, but no one was running out of the vehicle. 

“Phew! Guess you can call that a close call, huh, toots?”

You rolled your eyes as you leaned back onto the bike, your tense muscles slowly started to let go of the stress and you could feel the full amount of pain your body was receiving.

Danny kicked out the kickstand and turned over towards you, a small smile of happiness crossing his stressed and dirty face as his mind finally accepted that you were safe.   

He then turned to you and reached out, his thumb barely grazing over your face as you leaned into his touch, your own hands encircling around his wrist. 

“I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispered into your face and you both leaned into each other, your face going into his shoulder and his over your head as you both took in each other’s weight. 

After several minutes of resting and enjoying each other’s presence, the rat lifted himself off of you.

“So, what exactly did you get from these goons?”

You pulled the backpack off of your shoulders with a hiss and laid it into his lap, your hands leaning onto the bike as you pulled your phone to text your friend that you were safe along with the code you both created so that if one of you were kidnapped after being separated, you with know since you didn’t place the code.

Man your life was weird.

Danny opened the bag and let out a low whistle at the loot you had collected. Stacks of hundred bills were piled onto each other along with golden and silver belongings that yokai’s had placed into their banks. The rat pulled out a diamond about the size of a golf ball as you giggled. 

“That’s not even half of it.”

You winced as you touched your bruised eye and didn’t even realize that a trail of blood had traveled down your face from a gash on your head. Your body was sprinkled with dark marks and a slash mark was on your arm from the reptile. But, you’ve never felt more alive, as you took in the soggy smell of the harbor and watched as fog collected around your feet, you genuinely felt like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. 

Danny watched in silence as these emotions crossed over your face, as your nose twitched slightly and your fingers continually twitched due to them being black and red. But he has never seen you so deep in your prime, how these were your golden moments, the excitement, the adventure, the sheer thrill that glowed around your body. 

You were a literal heartthrob, and you were worth more than the treasure he held within your hands, you were worth more than any bank vault or rich man’s home. 

He planted a kiss on the top of your head as he handed the bag back to you, his body turning to get back onto the motorcycle. 

“Alright, love, let’s go home,” he said and you let out a breathless laugh. It had felt like the night had just started, and now it done. But, when you climbed back onto the bike, the fire from the van raging behind you, and with Danny looking at you with pure devotion, you knew that this was just the beginning. 

[skiller0dani]

Fever Lust | Timothee Chalamet

M A S T E R L I S T

smut requested requests info wanna be on a Timmy taglist? click here

btw I listened to ‘Ignite’ by K-391 and it really set the mood for this piece. and bad news but I’m gonna CLOSE requests for the walking dead. I’m just not writing anything good, and I’m not proud of what I’m writing. I’m gonna finish the walking dead requests I accepted, but I probably won’t accept anymore for a while. sorry, thanks for understanding xx

You had tried to keep the full extent of your anxiety to yourself, Timothee already worried enough about you. You had met him at a cafe, he stopped in every morning for a coffee before he went to film. You sort of knew who he was, but you didn’t know the full extent to his fame until you started hanging out with him. The cameras flashing as you stepped into his car, and the dark blush over his pale cheeks as he politely waved off questions. You felt your anxiety spike right then but you kept it at bay the best you could, you had an enormous crush on him and you wanted to spend time with him. Normally you would let your anxiety scare you back into your hermit hole apartment, but you really liked Tim. You didn’t want to stop spending time with him, so regardless of the trembling of your palms or the anxious beating of your heart you slid into his car next to him. You were still wearing your uniform and apron from the cafe, you smelled like coffee and donuts. A police officers wet dream. You blushed once his door was closed and he sent one bashful smile your way before starting the engine. “Wow.” You breathed as he carefully pulled out of the parking lot, careful not to hit anyone surrounding the car.

“It’s not normally this crazy, I swear it’s because I’m with a girl.” Timothee laughs, a flash of worry in his eyes when he sees the pale fear stricken expression on your face. Once most of the cameras and people were left behind you, you felt your heart rate slowing. “Why would that matter?” You ask him, suddenly self conscious. He was sat in a dark jacket and jeans that hugged his legs so perfectly, he smelled like spearmint and cinnamon, and his curls were perfectly messy. They gave him that adorable boyish look. While your hair was in a frizzy ponytail, you were in old worn out shoes, greasy jeans, and a wrinkled t-shirt with a creme apron on and matching ball cap styled hat. Timothee looked like a teenage girls masturbation fantasy while you felt greasy and disgusting. He smiled as a nervous chuckle left his lips, “last time I was out publicly with a girl I’m not related to, was my ex-girlfriend. They probably think we’re dating.” Timothee explained and the mere thought sent heat rising to your cheeks. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “as if you’d date a frumpy coffee girl.” You laughed, and while you were joking Timothee hardly took it that way.

“Don’t say that.” He said, a shadow falling over his face as he turned the corner towards a neighborhood of nice looking houses. You pinched your eyebrows together, most of your jokes were self-depreciating jokes. “Say what?” You ask, your heart feeling squeezed in your chest. Had you made him angry? Did you say something wrong? Bile turned in your gut as you fought off the urge to throw up, something that only happens when you get really anxious. “Don’t put yourself down.” Timothee said, his lips curved down in a small frown as he pulled up to a medium sized house. You didn’t know what to say so you simply exited the car and followed him into his house, he’d asked you to come over for dinner tonight after work. Once the door was closed, you felt your chest being crushed as you looked at him. “I’m sorry.” You blurted, taking him by surprise as Timothee turned to look at you. He took a step towards you and concern fell over his features when he saw your misty eyes. “For what?” Timothee asked, his voice soft as he looked into your eyes. The intensity of his stare caused your heart to quicken in your chest, “upsetting you in the car.” You breathed, desperately fighting the onslaught of tears.

Timothee shook his head, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “You didn’t, I just hate when you put yourself down. You’re beautiful.” Timothee said softly, his eyes looking genuine as he watched your expression change. He releases you and shrugs his jacket off, tossing it over the back of a couch before striding to the kitchen. You nervously toe out of your shoes as you remove your hat and apron before following him. Timothee flashes you a smile and you feel your heart go crazy in your chest, “what are you hungry for?” He asks, leaning back against the counter. Your immediate response to his question is ‘poison’. Yet another sad, somewhat self-depreciating joke. You bite your tongue, remembering how he reacted to your self hating humor last time. You eventually shrug with a bloom of red on your cheeks as you smile at him. Timothee hummed to himself before reaching for his phone, “I’m too tired to cook. Pizza?” He asks and you nod immediately. Although you’re not sure how hungry you are- you still feel somewhat nauseous. When his focus is on his phone screen you feel your heart beginning to race, what if he likes you? Like has feelings for you? While that would be a dream come true because you’re pretty sure you’re in love with him, you know it would end in flames.

You’re not an actress, or a model, or even pretty. You’re a girl who works in a cafe with crumpled clothes and a messy room. While Timothee is young, successful, put together, and responsible. You feel like an immature teenager compared to him, if he had feelings for you he would grow tired of you really quick. It would break your heart to lose him but you know sooner or later it’s going to happen. His ex-girlfriend is Lily-Rose Depp for fuck sakes, how on Earth are you supposed to compete with her? You’re nowhere near on the same level that she is, she’s like a goddess, and you feel like a mole rat compared to her. You’re pretty sure if you had to compete with your reflection, your reflection would win. You felt dizzy as you slammed your hand down on the counter, effectively drawing Timothee’s attention after he’d ordered the pizza. His eyes landed on you and his hands were holding you up immediately, concern washed over his face. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asked, but his voice sounded like it was underwater as your heart raced faster and faster and all of a sudden it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes fluttered as you slid against the kitchen cabinets to the ground, your fall broken by Timothee’s hard grip on you. Panic was settling in his eyes and you saw his lips moving but heard nothing but a loud ringing in your ears.

You felt frantic as you grabbed two handfuls of his shirt, your eyes wide and you felt damn near out of control as you held onto him. Timothee pulled your head into his chest and you fought against him at first but then you relaxed against his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around you. You heard his heart hammering against his chest as you slowly calmed down to the steady sound of his breathing. Timothee was shaking as he held you tightly, and he wasn’t entirely sure he knew what just happened. All he knew was that you scared the shit out of him. Once you’d relaxed enough to speak you pulled away from his chest and leaned back against the cabinets. Timothee stayed crouched in front of you, his hands still gently holding your arms. “What just happened?” He asked, and you felt guilty when you felt how hard he was trembling as he held you. “I-I had a panic attack.” You say softly, feeling incredibly ashamed and embarrassed. You refused to meet his eyes as he looked into your eyes, you had no idea what was going through his head. Timothee let out a long breath as he settled against the kitchen island, sitting across from you. His legs tangled with yours as he watched you, “talk to me.” He mumbled and finally your eyes drifted up to meet his.

“What happened just now?” You know what he’s really asking, he wants to know what brought the panic attack on. But by telling him you’d basically be admitting your feelings for him which nearly brought another panic attack on- Timothee seemed to notice that. His hands reached for yours, and when you felt his fingers gently lace through yours the oncoming panic attack settled before disappearing. “You can tell me anything.” Timothee promised and you swallowed a dry lump in your throat before nodding slowly. You closed your eyes and steeled your nerves for what you were about to say next. “I-I like you Timothee, a lot and I just know I can’t compare to Lily-Rose Depp. I would never expect you to have feelings for me, you’re used to dating actresses and supermodels. I’m just some ordinary girl who wakes up late and smells like coffee beans, I started thinking about how heartbroken I’m going to be when you realize I’m not what you want-” You didn’t realize you were crying until Timothee pressed his lips against yours, and softly wiped your tears with the pads of his thumbs. Any other words you were going to say died in your throat as your entire body melted against his. The kiss was slow and gentle, and you could feel how much emotion he was pouring into it.

“If that’s what you honestly think then you couldn’t be more wrong.” Timothee breathed once you’d parted, his forehead resting against yours. You stayed silent as his eyes looked into yours, his hands holding yours tightly. “I know how I feel about you, and I don’t want Lily-Rose, or a damn supermodel because they don’t come close to comparing to you. You’re real, you’re you. You don’t put on a facade for other people or act like a different person for the cameras. You’re just you, and you’re so beautiful. You’re insanely cute, I love watching you make my coffee because every time you catch me staring at you your entire face turns red. It’s so easy to make you blush, you make me dizzy with nerves. I’m always a nervous wreck when I’m around you, I’ve never felt so addicted to anyone before but sometimes when you’re not around I seriously feel like I’m having withdraws without you.” Timothee admits, and it sets your heart on fire as you watch him with wide, watery eyes. His hands come up to cup your cheeks again as he presses his lips to yours once more. Your hands find his shoulders as he slowly pulls you into his lap. “You are exactly what I want, I’ll spend the rest of my entire life proving it to you if that’s what it takes.” Timothee whispers, nudging his nose against yours.

Making a split second decision you frantically press your lips against his, in a much more rushed kiss- laced with desperation. Your hands hold his shoulders while Timothee’s hands choose to wander as they slide delicately down your back to firmly hold your hips. Your lips press together and languidly move against each other as your tongue probes into his mouth, and you’re not sure where this act of bravery is coming from. Timothee groans softly against your mouth as you grind down against his hardening bulge. He places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you back to look at you, “do you want this?” He asks breathlessly, loving the look of your flushed cheeks. You searched his eyes for hesitation but all you saw was unbridled want being held back with every ounce of self control he has. “I want you, all of you.” You breathe and that’s all he needs before his hands hook under your thighs to haul you up with him as he stands. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he presses kisses to your lips and cheeks. “Bed or couch?” Timothee asks, and you feel your whole body buzz with desire. You can barely think with his hands holding you up by your ass, and with his lips pressing against any inch of skin he can reach. You need him right now.

“C-Couch.” You pant, not wanting to wait while he carries you up the stairs and he smirks. Timothee turns for the living room before dropping you down on the couch, his pupils blown wide with lust. “How could you ever think I don’t want you?” Timothee asks, coming down to over over you as you lay on the couch. You stay silent as he presses his lips against to your collarbones through the fabric of your t-shirt. He reaches for the hem of your shirt before carefully pulling it over your head. He groans when he sees your breasts in your bra and his hands come up to squeeze them through your bra. “Fuck baby,” He groans, leaning down to press kisses to the swell of each breast. You moan softly as your head rolls back, enjoying the sensation of his lips on you. Timothee reaches back to unclip your bra, giving you plenty of time to stop him. You don’t. He pulls it off and he growls softly as he looks down at you, a possessive look in his eyes as he watches you. “Mine,” he hisses as he leans down to take a nipple in his mouth. You moan loudly as your hands wind in his hair, you lay back as he lavishes your chest with his lips and tongue. You feel the heat spreading down in between your legs, your entire body feels like it’s on fire.

Timothee slides one hand down to your jeans, “can I take these off baby?” He asks against the soft skin of your breast and you nod frantically. Timothee smiles against you as he slowly undoes your jeans and starts pushing them down your legs. He pulls away to untangle your jeans from your ankles and then he sits back against his heels to just stare at you. You squirm under his gaze, “what?” You ask nervously, feeling insecurity clawing it’s way into your brain. Almost as if he can sense it, Timothee presses a kiss to your lips. “Just can’t understand how I got someone so beautiful laying underneath me.” He breathes against your lips and your heart skips a beat while a wave of desire washes through your body. “A hundred girls would love to be where I am, while I’m pretty sure nobody is jealous of you for getting...me.” You say softly, beginning to feel unsure of yourself again. Timothee growls at your statement, his hands dipping into your panties and his fingers finding your aching clit. “Do you remember when we went to that outdoor mall, and I was angry the whole time?” Timothee asks, taking you by surprise. You try to concentrate on his words as you throw your head back in pleasure when he begins to rub slow circles on your clit. “Uh-huh.” You breathe through a moan. “I was angry because there was this group of guys who couldn’t control their goddamn thoughts. I saw them eye-fucking you, practically undressing you with every glance in your direction. Couldn’t keep their eyes off your perfect breasts, or your tight little ass. It drove me fucking crazy baby, this is my perfect body.” Timothee growls possessively while sliding 2 fingers deep into you.

You moan loudly as your fingers curl around the couch cushions tightly. “I just wanted to press you against the wall and pound into you right there, right in front of them. So they would know who you belong to. You have no idea how sexy you are.” Timothee hisses, his fingers quickly thrusting into you, bringing you closer to cumming. You feel the heat rising as you begin to pant but just before you cum he pulls away from you, “the only place you’ll be cumming is around my cock.” Timothee breathes into your neck and you begin to pull at his clothes, hating that he’s still fully clothed. Timothee leans back and yanks his shirt over his head before desperately fumbling with his belt while you kick your panties off. You drink in his bare chest, feeling the throbbing in your pelvis, it’s unbearable. Timothee finally kicks his jeans and boxers off, his hard on standing tall as your eyes lock on it. You feel your entire body tingle when you see his hard leaking cock, you need it inside you. “Timmy, I need you now.” You groan, reaching to pull him towards you. His frantic lips finds yours for a quick, passionate kiss as he leans you back. “On the pill?” He asks, breathless and you nod immediately. Timothee presses his head against your opening before gently pushing in, groaning at the feel of your tight walls constricting against him as he stretched you open.

Once he slid fully into you, you moaned loving how full you felt. You wrapped your arms around him as he pulled out of you, before gently sliding all the way back in. “Harder Timmy,” You panted and you felt him smirk against the skin of your shoulder as he pressed kisses there. When he pulled out again, only the tip was still inside you except this time he slammed back inside you. You cried out as he began to slam into you, the sound of skin slapping filled the room. Your head was thrown back as your hands clawed at his back, you know you’re going to leave red scratch marks. Timothee pounds into you and you cry out against him as he drives into you, “I’m gonna cum.” You moan as he reaches down to thumb your clit. Timothee’s lips press against your neck before moving to whisper into your ear, “cum on my cock baby.” He breathes and as soon as the words leave his lips- you’re exploding around him. Your entire body shudders and goes stiff as you cum harder than you ever have before and he’s not far behind you as he spills into you. You two sit there, him still inside you, just enjoying the afterglow when the doorbell rings.

You both chuckle, you completely forgot you ordered pizza. You move to stand up, but Timothee places a hand on your shoulder as he pulls out. “If you think I’m gonna let you answer the door with flushed cheeks, messy hair, looking all sexy and freshly fucked then think again,” Timothee says, a protective tone in his voice as he pulls on a pair of jeans before pressing his lips to your forehead. “Gonna give the pizza guy a damn hard on and then I’d have to do something that would probably land me in jail.” Timothee says as he turns to answer the door, causing you to giggle. He grabs his jacket and throws it on before answering the door and as you watch the light of the moon spill in through the front door and onto his face you realize something. You watch his lips curve into a smile and you spot the bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face, the only giveaway that he was just fucking you into oblivion. You sink further into the couch as the revelation occurring in your heart renders you speechless, you’re falling in love with him.

***taglist*** @sflowervol6​ @90sthemedsunsets​ @newletas​

[ichor-and-symbiosis]

New Year. (Shigaraki x Reader; SFW)

The machines whirred to life all around the sterile hospital room, disrupting the silence with evidence of Tomura’s continued survival.

He was so pale, so deathly quiet as he lay prone among bloodied sheets. A multitude of tubes pumped Ujiko’s dubious swill through Tomura’s veins. Even under a medically induced coma, you could still see evidence of his suffering. His hands were locked in white knuckled fists across his damaged chest as his eyes moved in rapid motions beneath closed eyelids. And the breathing, so sharp and deep. Ujiko assured you that these intermittent moments of rest would allow Tomura some respite from his endless torture, but you could clearly see that this was a lie.

You sat beside him and sadly examined your lover’s injured body. This was your first time seeing him since the day he made you promise to stay away from this very room until the treatment was complete. You tried, you really did. But no one could blame you for your weak heart or your loneliness.

You wondered if he missed you, too. Or was he too ensnared by constant pain to remember you? Was there nothing but hatred and emptiness left in this poor man, whose suffering was etched into his skin as splitting cracks and dried rivers of blood pooling in the crevices?

It was frightening to think about. The uncertainty of who Tomura would be after Ujiko finished with him scared you. Yet here you were, yearning to reunite with him in whatever way you could.

You checked your clock. 11:43 pm.

The PLF was holding a giant celebration to kick off the new year. Now, more than ever, they had a reason to celebrate. It would be a year of new beginnings, new leadership, power, wealth, and sacrifice.

You didn’t give a shit about any of that right now. Not when Tomura was all by himself while everyone else enjoyed themselves.

You’d probably tell me you’re enjoying the pain, you thought as you looked at him with rueful fondness.

The heart monitor beeped in response. You reached out, hand hovering beside his cheek for a moment, afraid to disrupt his weak grasp on peace. But the warmth emanating from his skin drew you in. You simply needed to feel the life within him. The back of your two fingers gently touched his pallid cheekbone and trailed slowly downward. Tomura’s breath hitched as the beeping grew erratic for a moment, before dipping away into a steady rhythm. His eyes continued to race. It disturbed you.

“Tomura,” you quietly whispered. For what reason, you weren’t sure. Maybe some part of you felt like he could still hear you, like he could wake up any moment and tell you he was so tired, and he would reach out to you with that stubborn look on his face until you opened your arms for him, welcoming him. Always welcoming him.

The loneliness gripped your heart once more. “It’s going to be the year of the rat, you know,” you softly said, smiling to yourself as you traced the curve of his bottom lip. You could feel the solid tension of clenched teeth as you caressed him. “Pretty fitting, don’t you think? An entire year dedicated to you.”

The joke fell flat without his sarcastic retorts. You stared at his face for what seemed like an inappropriate amount of time, searching for any sign of consciousness. There’s so much blood. I should have brought something to clean him with. I didn’t know. I didn’t know!

You checked your phone again just to calm your nerves. 11:50 pm.

“Everyone has been working hard,” you continued, feeling a sense of strength return to your voice. “Not Dabi, though. Of course. He’s too busy chasing chickens.” A pause, followed by a renewed urgency to fill the stifling silence. “Spinner and Mr. Compress keep track of meetings. Twice and Toga keep each other in line. They're all managing … although I doubt you were ever worried about that.”

His eyes forcefully turned to your direction, the taught skin of his eyelids rising and falling with the disturbing motion. Here you were, trying to have a heartfelt conversation with your boyfriend, and he was acting like a creature straight out of a horror movie. Truly your rat of a man.

Your fingers continued their aimless exploration, careful to avoid his wounds as you stroked familiar spots that always seemed to please him. You smoothed your touch over his jaw in slow, soothing motions, and it almost felt like some of the tension melted away.

11:59 pm.

You brushed his hair out of his face and dug your fingers through the dirty white strands to reveal his forehead. Your hand caressed the side of his head as your thumb trailed over the rough ridges marring his skin. Your phone was poised in your lap while you watched the countdown.

12:00 am.

A foolish part of you thought something might happen. But no, the monitor beeped away and Tomura remained dead to the world.

You leaned over and kissed the exposed part of his forehead. “Happy new year, Tomura,” you whispered, lips brushing against his skin. And you kissed him again for good measure, selfishly desiring this morsel of contact.

A sudden spasm rocked through Tomura and sent his heart rate into a crescendo. You jolted away from him and settled back against your chair, waiting patiently for the tremors to stop as you wrung your hands and forced yourself to breathe evenly, lest you spiral into a frenzy of worry.

His body fell limp without warning. You would have been terrified if not for the comforting sound of his heart beat steadying itself again.

You were afraid to touch him. But you couldn’t help it. You had to place your hand over his fist, over the hand that was still whole, despite sinewy muscles shining through peeled flesh. "I’m trying to stay strong for you,” you said. "So please continue to stay strong, too. If not for me, then for yourself. All of this … is for you. Only you.”

This is not what he would want to hear. He hated when you deflected your feelings with empty reassurances. Shut up about me, he would say. Tell me the truth.

But he already knew the truth, didn’t he?

He saw the fear and desperation in your eyes when you begged him not to do this. He saw your muted resignation when he finally convinced you that this was for the best. You were hurting, always hurting because of him, but you were strong enough to bear this burden if it meant being with him until the very end.

You lightly squeezed his fist. Everything will come to an end soon. You just had to be patient and endure.

You looked him over one last time, committing the best of him to memory. The strong heart beat that refused to be silenced, the powerful movement of his chest as he forced himself to breathe, the stubborn set of his brow —

Your king will return to you, you realized. For better or worse, he will emerge victorious, as he always has.

“I love you, Tomura,” you told him, your voice no longer meek and quiet, but firm and resolute. "No matter what you become.”