#Imagine if Dimple was actually allowed to curse as much as he wanted in the anime

[eudikot]

HELP??? This scene is so much funnier in the manga

[laurfilijames]

Slow Burn- Part 3

Pairing: Modern AU Fili x female OC Prim

Words: 2,582

Warnings: mentions of sex, male-receiving oral sex, nudity, orgasm. Alcohol, smoking, cursing.

Summary: Fili and Prim are done torturing each other, but not before one last agonizing encounter at a dinner out with his family.

A/N: I solemnly swear this is the last tease before it actually goes down. Part 4 is gonna be a doozy.

——————-

The day crawled. Dinner wasn’t until 8 o’clock and the anticipation for tonight would truly be the end of her.

Prim flew through her chores, only to allow more time to think about what would happen later, nothing she did able to distract her enough.

Her temper from last night still boiled within, adding to her desperation for Fili even more.

She felt reckless out of lust for him, pent up so badly she would likely orgasm at a simple touch from him.

Prim assured herself she just had to make it through dinner, knowing it would be agonizing to be near him, talking to him, hearing him laugh, and that he would likely be playing hard to get once again, but God it was going to be so worth it.

She had the idea of sending him a text-something simple, just to encourage him to want her a little bit more and make him feel as eager as she was.

You’re mine tonight.

Direct and to the point. She smiled to herself, imagining what he would come back with, hoping it would be as indecent as the thoughts in her head now.

About half an hour had passed before her phone buzzed and she eagerly pulled it out of her back pocket, hoping it was Fili responding to her.

Her stomach fluttered. It was.

Do you want a ride to dinner?

She almost threw her phone across the barn.

Was he fucking serious?

She exhaled deeply and reminded herself that he was doing this on purpose and she would need to do her best to keep her composure tonight.

But goddamnit did he piss her off.

She waited to reply, needing to come up with something that would take him down a notch and cause his mind to think of nothing else other than fucking her for the rest of the day.

Eventually she sent;

No thanks, but I will ride you later.

It was finally time for dinner.

Reservations were made at an up-scale restaurant, one that took weeks to book into and Prim could never afford.

It was of course Bilbo’s idea and insistence that they go there, having pulled some strings to get them a last minute table, wanting to celebrate Kili and Tauriel moving in together in proper style.

Although she wasn’t thrilled about how much her dinner was going to cost her, Prim delighted in being able to wear a luxurious dress that left nothing to the imagination and knew would leave Fili floored.

She was still pissed at him for ignoring her confession of wanting him last night and was determined to dismantle his nonchalant demeanour toward her.

She smiled to herself as she slipped the champagne coloured, silk dress over her skin and adjusted the thin straps on her shoulders.

Prim turned to admire the open back in the mirror, the cut hovering over the dimples above her bum and the material accentuating the curve of her hips.

She couldn’t wear panties with it, making her feel all the more confident and seductive. The neck hung low, but didn’t reveal any cleavage, the only exposure of her breasts being her nipples peaking into the material.

She left her makeup simple and her hair in loose curls that collected around her shoulders.

After spritzing on her favourite perfume, Prim slipped into a strappy pair of heels and prayed Fili could no longer resist her when she looked like this.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he first clapped eyes on her, loving that he would be forced to keep his composure in public.

Arriving at the restaurant, Prim paid the cab driver and stepped inside the lobby, jazz music and the chattering of people filling her ears. The hostess led her through the crowd of tables to the patio that overlooked the bay, pointing her to the table where her companions were already seated.

She took notice of the many gazes that fell upon her as she walked through the place, but her favourite so far was Kili’s, who practically spit out his drink and hit Fili’s arm to draw his attention to her.

Prim smiled as she approached, trying her best not to laugh when Fili abruptly stood and nearly knocked his chair over. She purposefully ignored him and went first to Bilbo- his arms outstretched to hug her and kiss her on both cheeks.

“Well don’t you look expensive!” he flattered.

Thorin followed suit, telling her how ravishing she looked. Next, she embraced Tauriel, Prim telling her how stunning she was and how thrilled she was for her and Kili.

Kili wrapped his arms around her in the way he always did and said into her ear,

“You’re about to kill my brother looking like that.”

She matched his huge grin when she pulled away and raised her eyebrows in agreement with him.

“That’s the plan,” she said cheekily.

Fili stood patiently on the other side of his brother, waiting his turn, his expression stoic.

Prim finally took him in, looking devastatingly handsome in his black suit and black dress shirt that was open a couple of buttons at the top, revealing his blond coils. He was so calm and collected just as he always was, all the while she felt like she was about to combust.

He reached one hand out from his pockets and placed it on her hip, leaning in to kiss her cheek, his stubble-coated face brushing against her in a way that sent a shiver down her spine and she longed to know what the roughness would feel like against her more sensitive skin.

“You are stunning,” he praised as he pulled away from her, his eyes steely and serious.

“Thank you, Fi,” she replied, audible only to him.

They stared at each other for a moment before Bilbo cleared his throat, prompting Fili to pull her chair out for her to sit.

Fili’s breath tickled her ear as he leaned forward to tuck in her chair and whispered to her,

“I hope you meant every word you said in those texts,”

She inhaled sharply and bit her lip while nodding in confirmation. Before she could respond he pulled away from her and took his own seat beside her, so close his leg threatened to brush against hers.

She could’ve begged him then to touch her, to make contact with her body, knowing tonight she would push whatever boundary it was that was keeping them from having each other regardless of what it took.

Fili was in awe of her. He always was.

He’d been anxiously waiting for her to arrive to dinner, bouncing his leg in anticipation and distracted from the conversations at the table.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the texts she’d sent him earlier, he’d been hard and aching all day in anticipation of being with her, fucking her, claiming her.

But the wait was worth it. When Kili hit his arm and he turned to see her gliding through to them he felt like she had him under some sort of spell. Like she could control him in any way she wanted, and oh, would he let her.

She radiated sex. It oozed from her.

She glowed with beauty and confidence and he wanted to place his lips on every part of her, be with her. Love her.

Fili certainly noticed the way other patrons in the restaurant were staring at her, but instead of feeling jealous he felt proud.

She was perfect and she was his.

The air felt charged between them when she finally greeted her way through his family and over to him.

He watched her body respond to him when he placed his hand on her hip and brought his lips to her cheek, her breath hitching and her nipples hardening under the silk material that covered them.

Fuck.

He allowed himself to imagine for a moment hiking her dress up and pushing inside her, right there against the table.

He knew there was nothing between her naked body and that dress and he felt the heat in his blood rush through him and down to his cock.

Thankfully, Bilbo cleared his throat before Fili could let his thoughts progress any further and he pulled Prim’s chair out for her to sit, inhaling her scent as she sat before him.

She was intoxicating and he couldn’t resist another chance to make her ache for him. Gripping the back of her chair, he pushed it in toward the table, leaning forward to murmur in her ear,

“I hope you meant every word you said in those texts,”

He watched her body stiffen, and he thought again of her earlier promise;

You’re mine tonight.

She nodded yes, her lip tucked in her teeth, and Fili wanted to abandon their dinner right then and take her home to let her fulfill those words and finally give in to every urge they had denied each other of.

Dinner was great. Their conversations flowed easily as they always did, finding themselves once again in their own bubble, lost in each other. She had a way of making him laugh more than anyone else could and he was never happier than when he was in her presence. She was caring and beautiful in every possible way, and the way she adored and was adored by his family helped solidify every reason why he loved her.

Still, his mind kept going to the things she could do to him, how her lips that were curled up into a smile now would look wrapped around his cock. He wasn’t able to decide what he wanted more; to make love to her slowly and carefully or rough and persistant.

She looked at him with a heavy want in her eyes like she was able to see his thoughts, images of their bodies finally wrapped up together, making him feel even more unstable. He rubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to gain control, but not before his brother took notice of his agitation.

“Are you two okay?” Kili asked, conscious to the fact they were both clearly flustered and worked up.

“Fine!” they chimed in unison, Fili giving Prim a knowing look and fidgeting in his chair once again while he watched her grip her thigh in restraint.

He couldn’t take it anymore. They were both guilty of being selfish and stubborn for too long, constantly playing with their feelings and emotions. He should’ve told her from the beginning how he felt, but it didn’t matter now, knowing this taunting game they were playing was ending tonight.

But that wasn’t going to stop him from teasing her to the edge one last time.

The entire night was like one agonizing session of foreplay. Everything Fili did caused arousal to bloom deep in Prim’s stomach and she began to find it difficult to carry on a conversation with anyone but him.

“Excuse me a moment, I’m just going to grab a drink.”

She stood and made a bee-line for the bar, needing to clear her head of Fili, but it was impossible. She couldn’t stop thinking of his hands all over her, his lips following suit, him filling her and providing her with unrelenting pleasure.

“Can I have a shot of vodka, please?” she asked the bartender, knowing it would do nothing to calm her but needing to make an attempt.

She downed it, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat, exhaling deeply with her eyes closed.

“I’ve never seen you this unsettled before,”

Prim nearly jumped out of her skin, unaware that Fili had followed her.

“Fili!” she gasped, “Christ, you scared me!” her hand clasped her chest.

He chuckled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,”

She stared into his eyes, cursing him internally.

You are the reason I’m so unsettled, she thought.

“I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me.” she lied, carding her fingers through her hair.

“Are you sure? You seem...frustrated, tempted,” he leaned into her, pressing his hand against her exposed lower back to pull her close,

“aroused.”

Damn him! she cursed in her head. He was going to break her.

“Not in the slightest,” she challenged him, trying her best to prove his words wrong. Prim placed her hand on his chest and allowed it to linger there before she moved to straighten his lapel.

“Hmm. If you say so,” he disputed.

His eyes traveled back and forth from her lips to her eyes as if he was toying with the idea of kissing her, a retaliation to her move last night.

Instead he released his hand from her back and faced the bar, ordering a bottle of Prosecco for the table.

Prim took the opportunity to break his cockiness, brushing a piece of his hair that had fallen out of place back around his ear, the sensation making him close his eyes and set his jaw as her fingers trailed down his neck.

She touched her lips to his ear and whispered,

“If you don’t believe me then you’ll have to find out...”

His eyes flashed open and he turned to look at her just as she began to walk away, sending him a mischievous grin as she sashayed back to the table.

It took everyone ages to eat their dessert.

This was complete torture.

All Fili wanted was to be away from his family and to have an opportunity to be alone with Prim. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to execute the rest of the evening, unsure if she would want to be at her place or his, but knowing she wanted to be with him wherever it was.

The waiter finally came around with the bills and Fili happily paid for Prim’s meal along with his own which she of course protested but eventually allowed him to treat her.

They all walked out into the growing night, saying goodbye before going to their respective houses, leaving Prim and Fili standing on their own.

Now that they were by themselves, Prim felt comfortable enough to light a cigarette. Even though she didn’t smoke often she knew Thorin and Bilbo frowned upon it, yet Fili never seemed to mind, even occasionally joining her in one.

She leaned against a railing as she exhaled smoke into the darkness, curious as to what Fili intended for the rest of their night.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her first, his voice husky.

She stared at him intensely as she took another drag from her cigarette before answering,

“Nothing much,”

He laughed and shook his head, “You’re impossible,”

“Well are you going to tell me what you’re thinking then?” she retorted, tipping her head to the side, interested in his answer.

He took a step toward her and plucked the cigarette out of her fingers, taking a long drag before extinguishing it on the railing beside her.

He then stood before her, the most serious look on his face and she shuddered when he placed his hands on either side of her face.

“How incredible you look. How amazing you are. How good you’ll taste...” he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, his mouth teasing to make contact.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” Prim asked, barely able to form the words.

“Mhm,” was all Fili could get out.

———————

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch1 | knj

(verb) flank - 

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 4.7K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, feelings of guilt, brief description of sexual acts. ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: glad to be putting this gem back up into the world. please do let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for this, i’d be happy to oblige! this was one of the first things i’ve written, and so i hadn’t quite found my style yet, but it’s not that bad??? i pretty much have the whole story planned out, but i want to take my time with it. this is my lil baby, and i wanna treat it right uwu this starts off with a lot of angst and tough emotions, but there will be eventual smut!!! huge thank you to my supportive spouse who is in the military and has helped out with some of the realism aspects of this story. hope y’all like it! enjoy!

- minty <3

It’s raining today. Again. The clouds hang low, like a weighted blanket covering your whole world. Aren’t those things supposed to help with anxiety? If only the clouds comforted you, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to go to… therapy. The word stings in your brain. Another cruel joke of the universe: the un-comforting weighted cloud blanket, and the need for you to go to therapy to ease your pain about a dead therapist. 

The light of the day is beginning to leave as you walk towards the address the man had given you the day before. You really should have been nicer; he really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you really should have asked his name. Mentally kicking yourself, you vow that you’ll do it tonight. After all, this is the only other time you’ve left the house by yourself this week. It was nice to not have the Casualty Assistance Officer breathing down your neck for once. There has to be some good in that. Hell, this little outing might actually be helpful.

The old government building is dull, like both the sky and your feelings. If you died right now and were reincarnated into an object instead of a being, the building in front of you would probably be the best fit. Shades of brown and grey cover tired and worn brick. Government funding has tried its best to keep it presentable but truthfully, it’s barely holding on. It’s definitely seen better days. The more you think about the similarities, the more pathetic you feel, so you push on ahead and push the thoughts out of your mind. The door creaks as you walk in the cold and dark foyer and it all just... makes sense. As empty inside as you are. Jesus, you’ve never been this morbid. There are no lights on other than one at the end of one of the hallways, and you hesitantly step towards it. You don’t like the thought of what that light is going to expose. 

As you reluctantly enter the beam of offensive fluorescent light, someone takes notice of you. Already? They’re walking towards you, hand extended. You’re busy blinking back at the new bright sensation as you reach your hand out to introduce yourself. After blinking back the harsh light, you can see the little folding chairs placed in a circle in the room. Great, you think, just like AA. 

The man before you seems to be in his late 30s, a little on the short side, with a little bit of hair recession. As you finish your short bow to the man, he says in Korean “Yes, someone told us you might be joining us tonight.” as he sends a meaningful look over to one of the chairs in the circle. You follow his gaze to see the man from yesterday grinning up at you, dimples on full display, this time in civilian clothes. After sending you a goofy little wave, he pats the chair next to him and not so smoothly motions for you to sit there. 

���Go ahead,” the older man says, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

You walk toward the empty chair, and take in how truly different he looks in plain clothes. His KATUSA uniform was extremely flattering to his large frame, but this is just downright cruel. The black beanie he’s sporting looks way too good on him. His short sleeved v-neck shirt is a little tight, revealing the finely defined shape of his chest and his arms. He catches your eyes lingering on his body, and you quickly look down as you feel a blush creep up. You tell yourself to just pretend nothing happened, and it’ll all be fine. 

After you sit down, you open your mouth to ask for his name, but he does the same, your voices awkwardly echoing each other. Realizing what happened, your cheeks grow even warmer and you can’t help but turn away as you both share a laugh. You shake it off and give him your name, family first and individual second, attempting to at least make eye contact with him. 

“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sangbyeong Kim Namjoon, but please don’t feel the need to use titles or honorifics with me. We’re equals here as far as I’m concerned. I’m really glad you decided to come tonight.” 

So, it is him. You can’t even begin to believe it. He looks so different than he did in the tour pictures you saw only a few years ago, but as you look up at him knowing what you know, it all falls into place. Some things for sure didn’t change one bit- his button nose, his deep and smoldering eyes, and the signature dimples really should have given it away. His smile is still just as genuine and reassuring and gleaming and... beautiful?

You immediately squish the thought and offer him back a tight smile. You’re not going to let him know you know who he is. It would probably only make him feel weird and you’ve already been so awful to him. You’re not going to allow yourself to make a big deal about this, and you’re definitely not going to allow yourself to... like him. 

“Look,” you start, “I appreciate your concern. I... I just don’t think something like this will help me. At least not right now.” You sigh, studying your shoes as a distraction. Your hands busy themselves fiddling with your necklace. There’s no way you can be here sitting this close to Namjoon. 

As if he can read your panicked thoughts, Namjoon leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his warm breath on your jaw, and with a hushed and more gravelly voice, he says, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Hell, I didn’t say anything for almost a whole month. It just... felt good to listen. You’re not going to be forced into anything. This is going to go at your speed and be what you’re comfortable with. I promise.” With that last sentence, he places his large, warm hand on your knee. 

Shit. You suddenly feel your entire body ignite. What is this? A bolt of lightning rushes up your spine. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. No, this isn’t happening. Your legs begin to tingle. This can’t be happening; this is not allowed. You swallow hard. 

You don’t want to be aroused. You straight up shouldn’t be aroused. This is messed up. Really messed up. You blink some sense back into yourself and cross your legs away from him which thankfully removes the cursed hand.

You’d imagined being touched by this man for a pretty considerable amount of time some years ago; you had filled your head with countless fantasies, knowing they’d never come true. You’d read countless imaginings of his other fans and admirers. This man had fueled so many hidden desires within you. You’d thought of his hands exploring your frame, his strong arms throwing you around, his plush lips leaving marks along your inner thighs...

Thinking of him had been your guilty little pleasure, even something your husband had liked to playfully tease you about. To actually have him here next to you in the flesh, though, was still somehow unfathomable. Why now, you mentally screamed to the god you didn’t believe in. The universe’s cruel jokes just won’t end, will they? What can you possibly even do about this? You can’t sit here and allow your panties to be wet when your husband hasn’t even been buried yet for fucks sake. God, you’re so ashamed. You’re just going to have to keep him at a polite distance. That’s your only option.

You don’t speak through the meeting. But Namjoon was right, it is kind of nice to hear other people’s stories. Even though it’s only been a week since you found out, there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts you can relate to with these people. You’ve found out why Namjoon comes to these meetings every week. That was a question you didn’t want to linger on, much less learn the answer to. You didn’t want to imagine him experiencing a loss like this. Even when you weren’t convinced it was really him, seeing that same pain in another’s eyes only made yours hurt worse. 

One of Namjoon’s fellow soldiers had died in a training accident, and the whole fire team was there doing group therapy. They spent most of their time remembering the funny things he would do to cheer everyone up during their long ruck marches and their annoying and boring bouts of equipment cleaning. Private First Class Derek Williams was the goofball of the group, and he was definitely well loved. Namjoon’s eyes never fully lit up when everyone’s anecdotes hit their punchline.

As the meeting draws to a close and people begin filing out, the group leader comes over to the both of you and asks Namjoon how his thoughts have been over the past week. It’s interesting that the man takes special interest in Namjoon. He nods and just casually replies, “I keep thinking it should have been me instead.”

His relaxed confession is absolutely shocking. Why would he say that? The older man seems to be as surprised as you are.

“Namjoon-ah, please don’t say such things,” the man urges. 

“I know how it sounds, I really do. I’m not going to do anything crazy, and I know it’s a pointless thought,” he shrugs. “It’s just how I’ve been feeling.” 

The older man nods. 

“Go in well-being, Namjoon. Please, call me if you need to.”

You find yourself walking out together. The sky is now fully dark and there’s an added chill in the air, urging you to pull your scarf up a little higher. At least it’s not raining anymore. It’s not usually this cold in Daegu at this time of year; you’re practically begging Spring to come. Although you’re in stride with each other, Namjoon feels like he’s a million miles away.

 “Hey,” you begin, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m sorry about your friend. He sounded like a really nice guy.” 

“Yeah, he was. Thanks. I’m sorry about your husband too. You seem to miss him a lot.” 

“Yeah, I do. Part of me still doesn’t believe he can really be gone. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a daze for the past week. All the paperwork I’ve had to sign. All the logistics. It’s all a little overwhelming so I… just kind of shut down most of the time. Our dog is still looking for him around the house, too, which is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Oh, shit. I couldn’t imagine. I have a dog too and... I don’t want to think about how confused they must be. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

You both stop walking, because you realize you’ve allowed him to walk you all the way to your car. He didn’t even ask.

“Speaking of my son… I... actually need to go walk him. He’s been inside all day and it’s finally stopped raining. Huskies need exercise... So...”

Namjoon lights up a little. “Do you walk him on post?”

“No actually, we go to Duryu Park. He likes the ducks that gather at the pond. Although they probably won’t be doing very much at this time of night.”

“Hey, why don’t we go together?” he asks, “It’s dark out and it’s not a good idea for you to be by yourself.” 

“Excuse me?” you snap. He doesn’t know you’re a brown belt, but he sure is about to.

A flustered Namjoon begins stumbling over his words. “I’m just saying, you’re like really small and someone could easily—“

“Namjoon,” you laugh. “I think I can handle myself.”

“No, uh, what I’m trying to say is that there’s safety in numbers, you know? It would be difficult to fight off bad guys while keeping hold of your dog...” He has a good point. You’ve never walked Draco this late before. You don’t want to admit it, but your recent lesson in mortality has left you a little more than uneasy, especially now that Namjoon has made you think about it.

He continues his word vomit, mistaking your furrowed eyebrows for reluctance instead of consideration. 

“Look, I’m sure you’re very intimidating but—“

Oh my god, you can’t take it anymore. 

“Namjoon!” you exclaim and he finally, finally stops the verbal deluge. “Fine.” 

He seems astonished. “Really?”

“Yeah, meet me by the bridge that leads to the little island in the middle of the pond in like... 30 minutes. We usually do two laps around the water. And...” you pause, “thanks.” You’re a little annoyed at how persistent he can be, but he is really considerate.

His eyes sparkle in the light of the street lamps and you notice his gaze linger on your pursed lips. He does a... weird little hop and finally fully smiles at you. You’ve forgotten how utterly striking his full smile can be. Jesus Christ, how many teeth does this man have? His cheeks have become even more round and his eyes shrink into little half moons. Your stomach does somersaults as you bask in the glow of his happiness. Ugh, not again.

��Okay, I’ll see you soon!” he says, hurrying away. You don’t notice him glance back at you, and that’s probably a good thing.

You get in your car and put your forehead against the steering wheel. Why can’t you just say no to this man?

___________________________

You walk up to the start of the bridge with your pup in tow, who is obviously very pleased to be outside and at his favorite park to boot. The street lamps don’t cover much, but you can just make out a leggy figure standing next to a small white fluff ball. You’d forgotten he said he had a dog too. As you get closer, you see he’s got the leash handle around his wrist, because both his hands are holding two white cups with steam pouring out of the top. 

“What’s this?” you ask, as he extends one of the cups to you. Your dogs are busy sniffing each other, ears back and tails wagging. 

“Hot chocolate! It’s really cold out and I noticed you shivering when we got out of the group therapy building and I was going to get you coffee but I didn’t know what kind you like or how you take it plus it’s late and caffeine might keep you up all night and I didn’t want to—“

“Namjoon,” you cut him off before he explodes. “Thank you.” you reply, taking a sip of the hot drink and relishing in how it warms you up. You look back up at the handsome man, who is beaming down at you, enthralled in your pleased reaction. Warmth is beginning to spread through your body, and as your eye contact with him deepens, you begin to wonder if it’s just the hot chocolate. You can’t help yourself. “You do know that there’s a lot of sugar in hot chocolate though, right?” 

He furrows his eyebrows and panic soon consumes his face.

 “Oh! Right! I’m sorry I—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I’ll be fine, promise. And if I’m not and you end up keeping me up all night, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.” you deadpan, which takes more effort than usual because now, you’re picturing him… keeping you up all night.

He starts laughing and you can’t help but to join him. He has a good, hearty laugh, one that makes his entire face light up. It feels really good to be laughing with him. 

“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, “this is Moni!” gesturing down to the adorable American Eskimo at the end of the pink leash. 

You squat down to formally introduce yourself to Moni. You let him sniff your hand as your dog takes the opportunity to sneak some kisses on your face. 

“Bananas, stop!” you light-heartedly scold, but your pooch doesn’t get the message. He seems encouraged instead, and you are given no mercy by your big fluffy boy. 

Namjoon just laughs at how adorably frustrated you are. After he’s had enough entertainment, he extends a hand and helps you back up. This is the first time you’ve touched skin to skin, and your body is keenly aware of it. His hands are softer than you thought they’d be, and really warm. With how cold it is, you wish you could keep holding onto his strong yet elegant hands. Even after he’s released you, a symphony of tingles play in your legs, betraying you once again.

“Shall we then?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head down slightly so he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. Why does he have to do that? He can’t look at you like that. It’s illegal. Not allowed. He’s torturing you, and surely he has to know that. Or is he oblivious? He’s probably not even trying, because he has no reason to. He doesn’t even need to try. Which is kind of the problem, because you can’t exactly tell him to stop being so damn hot.

You can only answer him by tugging on your leash with a “let’s go!”

Over your walk, you talk about favorite places to eat in town and the different attractions you’ve come to love during your stay here. He talks about one of his best friends who grew up here in Daegu, so he knows all of these nice little spots only a local would typically know. You don’t have to wait for him to say Yoongi’s name before you know who he’s talking about, bringing up a hint of stinging remorse at your secret. He says they’re still in contact as much as they can be, but it tends to be difficult when they were both doing their compulsory service. Yoongi had finished his obligation, and is back in Seoul working on music. For his time, he was stationed right outside of Seoul working with the Korean Military Police, so he never really had to totally put down his work. He talks about Yoongi like they’re brothers, and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. Namjoon doesn’t even try to hide how much he misses his friend.

He asks about where you grew up, and the question is kind of startling. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell him, but you’re surprised that he wants to know.

“I grew up in Georgia, in the United States. It’s in the Southeastern part of the country.”

“Ah okay, so you grew up close to Atlanta?” he asks, full of curiosity. 

“Kind of! I was about a 4 hour drive from there. I grew up closer to the ocean.” you say, and notice his eyes light up when you mention the sea.

“There’s a guy in my unit,” he begins, “who did his training in Georgia. He said that there isn’t much there other than Atlanta...” he says, quickly noticing your bemused look. He catches himself and finishes, “but in hindsight he was likely biased.”

“He probably trained at Ft. Benning. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him for thinking that at all,” you say, “He’s actually kind of right, if that’s all of Georgia he got to see,” you continue, laughing a little.

“Well, what do you think of Georgia?”

“Hmmmm. I think I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The area where I grew up was close to the beach, but there was also a lot of agriculture. My grandma even had a peach tree in her backyard. She’d let me go back there and pick a peach and eat it if I had behaved that day. Peaches are my favorite, so it was a pretty good motivator.”

“Georgia is known for their peaches, right?” he asks, but his tone tells you he already knows the answer to that. You had always thought people were exaggerating at how smart he is, but you can’t deny the fact any longer.

“Yeah, we’re even called the peach state. Peaches, pecans, sweet onions and peanuts all grow well there.” you say and he nods with understanding. 

“So what about the town you grew up in?”

“The town was pretty small, my high school maybe had 500 people in it. But the bigger city by us was great. A lot of different types of people. A lot of good food. God, I miss southern food a lot.” you gasp, grabbing his bicep with your free hand, “Namjoon! You haven’t lived until you’ve had good collard greens!” 

“Collard greens? I’ve never heard of that,” he says, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“It’s a side dish we eat down south. It goes with just about everything, but it’s best next to fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese…” he muses, letting the English words roll off his tongue, “I really want to try more American food. I’ve had plenty of hamburgers, but I want to try everything. PFC Williams always let me try his lunch if I asked him. He brought this thing called potato salad one day… that was an interesting experience.”

You sigh, “there’s much more to American food than just hamburgers and potato salad. Too bad there aren’t any real authentic American food restaurants here. Although, there is a Johnny Rockets on the other side of town. Is that where you get your hamburgers?”

“Yeah… it is. Chain restaurants are cheating though, right?”

“Yeah, basically. If you want real American food, you’ve got to get a real American to make it for you. I thought I really liked Korean food until I moved here. Americanized Koean food is not half as good as the real thing,” you assure him.

“I could have told you that,” he teases, giving you a light bump with his shoulder. “Do you have a favorite restaurant in town?”

You discuss the places you have come to love in Daegu, from restaurants to parks to shopping areas to museums. You both realize you enjoy art, although he prefers looking at it while you enjoy making it. The conversation ventures to Pollock and Monet and Van Gogh and you go on about how you just don’t get Picassos. He just lets you just rant about how much you hate his works for probably too long, until you’ve run out of breath and are forced to take a break.

“Wow, that bad huh? What did he ever do to you?” Namjoon chuckles.

“He destroyed my corneas with his kindergarten level bullshit, that’s what.” you snap, which only makes him laugh more.

“So it’s safe to say that you hate Banksy too, then?” 

“No way!” you say, “Banksy is a genius!”

He just continues to chuckle, clearly amused. “I will never understand you, woman.” 

“Are you trying to?” you quip before you can stop yourself, and his laughs die down. Oh, no. That was so direct. Way too direct. He’s got to know you’re into him now; he’d be a moron to not pick up on it. Your stomach is doing somersaults again, but not the good kind this time. You’ve known him for less than two days, so why did you think that was a good thing to say?

You chew your lip, worried of what he might be thinking. Or worse, what he might actually say. After an excruciatingly long silence, finally, it happens.

“Yes. I am.” 

What does that even mean?! Your thoughts are beginning to spiral again, and thankfully, he continues, albeit way too nonchalantly. 

“And honestly, it’s been really enjoyable to do.”

It’s been... enjoyable? Has he already forgotten how you met? This man must have a death wish if getting verbally murked by a strange woman in public was something he considered to be ‘enjoyable.’ You’re immeasurably grateful he isn't looking at you right now, because it’s nearly impossible to hide your astonishment. 

“So…” he begins slowly, “I hope you’ll continue to let me.”

What do you even say to something like that? Namjoon is so much nicer than you ever expected, and that fact is only making things more difficult for you. You’ve had more enjoyment in this one walk than you’ve had this whole week, but there’s about a million different reasons why you should stay away from him. If you only could have met under different circumstances, this might be something you could explore. Honestly, you would still love to explore the possibilities with him, even here and now, but the thoughts of your husband are difficult to push away. 

You recoil at that and curse yourself. 

They shouldn’t be pushed away! It’s not fair to your husband or to his memory. It wouldn’t even be fair to Namjoon! You can barely give yourself a hundred percent right now, much less a new friendship. On top of everything, you’re going to have to go back to the states in less than 6 months, which is an eventuality you’re not looking forward to facing. 

The only sounds now are the soft contact of your shoes against pavement, the tinkling of metal dog tags, and the cold breeze rustling the trees around the four of you. You were correct about there being no ducks out this late, and you find yourself missing their chatter. Anything to distract you from this confrontation would be welcome right now. As the silence grows longer, it becomes more and more difficult for you to respond. You’ve never been great with words, but what do you have to lose besides looking like an idiot? Besides, you’ve already done that. Like, yesterday. You take a deep breath and offer up the most broad explanation.

“Namjoon, I just can’t be a good friend to you right now.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for.” he simply replies, not missing a beat. Why is he being so stubborn? You’re going to have to elaborate. Forget trying to not make a fool out of yourself. He’s a good person, and he deserves your honesty-- at least most of it.

“I can’t be a good friend to you ever. I’m too consumed in my own baggage right now to help you carry yours. Plus, I’ll have to return to the States soon. I just… don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“That’s… not what I’m asking for,” he says again.

Frustration building up causes you to sigh at him. You’re going to need a little help from this infuriating dimpled tree-man, so you make him give it to you.

“What are you asking for, then?” you inquire with a little sting in your tone, leaving him with no room to continue being vague.

“I am asking to continue spending time with you. That’s it. I enjoy your company.” he says. This answer is still unacceptable to you because...

“I literally yelled at you in a parking lot yesterday, Namjoon,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was…” he trails off and scratches his head, “kind of my fault.” 

“You can’t be serious. You… didn’t know.”

“That might be true, but I still hurt you, and I’d like the chance to continue making it up to you. At risk of sounding really cheesy… Part of my job as a KATUSA is to be a symbol of the friendship and mutual support of our two fine countries... To learn from and assist each other... I don’t see why we couldn’t do that too...”

“That… really was cheesy, Namjoon,” you chuckle.

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips around in your chest. When he speaks again, he draws out the first word, clearly in a teasing mood now.

“Okay, but… did it work?” he teases with a sly grin as he side-eyes you.

Part of you wants to tell him no, but he does deserve honesty after all. At least mostly honesty. You want to reveal to him that you know who he is, but you’re unsure of the words to say. He seems eager to stay in your life here, for whatever reason. Compared to what you’ve just been through, nothing can really hurt you again. So what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have anyone else to spend time with. 

“Yeah,” you confess. “It did.”

“So,” he begins, “does that mean you’ll let me show you the museum you haven’t been to yet? There’s this once piece in there that is spectacular. You have to let me show you.”

After a considerable silence, he looks at you with soft, begging eyes and lets out a soft “Please?”

“Okay, Namjoon. You got it.”

You cannot say no to this man.

“Saturday then? In the morning? We’ll want to beat the crowd, especially if you want to explore the whole thing!”

“That works for me. You know, I’m actually looking forward to you being my personal tour guide.”

“Great! I guess you really must be from Georgia. You’re sweet, just like a peach.”

[ggukcangetit]

Chocolates & Laundry Do Not Mix - JJK fic

title: Chocolates & Laundry Do Not Mix [Prequel to Crime & Punishment]

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: PG 13

warnings: language, y/n uses a pillow to deal with her frustration, not much else?

word count: 3.5k

summary: when your best friend, Namjoon, asks if a junior from his business ventures class can live with you till his lease comes through, you don’t think much about it. But one month with Jeon Jungkook proves to be extremely difficult because of how little the boy says but how much he seems to topple over without much effort.

a/n: this is the first fic for jungkook’s birthday! happy birthday to the bestest, most lovely, wonderful, soft-hearted boy out there. we love you, koo! wishing you happiness always <3

Before Jungkook

Namjoon is a great guy. He’s smart, funny, considerate, thoughtful, kind, and definitely one of the best looking guys out there. You love him, you really do. But there are times when you wish you could roundhouse kick his dimpled ass out of the window. And this would be one of those moments. 

“It’ll only be for a couple of months, y/n.” Namjoon sat down on the grass, his long legs stretching out in front of him. Seokjin reached over you and handed him the last neatly packed chicken wrap he had brought. “The lease at his old place ran out last week, and the place he’s going to move to doesn’t allow tenants before August. You’re the only one of us who currently doesn’t have a roommate.”

You frowned, the wonderfully seasoned chicken inside Seokjin’s wrap not really registering in your system. “Seokjin can’t?”

“You do know that I just graduated and will be moving to a different city in a couple of days, right?” He shot you a look and promptly flopped onto the grass dramatically.

“What about Yoongi?” 

“He’s moved in with his girlfriend.” Namjoon quirked an eyebrow. “Do you not read any of the messages in the group chat?”

“Jimin? Hobi?” You were desperate at this point.

“Hobi lives with me. And Jimin lives with Taehyung right now. But the two of them are planning to move into a new apartment before classes start in the fall and Jungkook will be staying with them after that! So what do you say?” Namjoon stared at you expectantly. “Can Jungkook crash at your place for the summer?”

If it were up to you, some random junior from Namjoon’s business class would not be crashing at your modest apartment while you slaved your ass off working part-time so that your job prospects would be minutely better at the time of graduation. But then - you stared at Namjoon’s inquiring gaze and Seokjin’s knowing eyebrow raise - it was never really up to you, was it? No. Somehow, all decisions in your friend group had become a matter of collective responsibility. Yoongi wants to buy a new sound system? Well, it must be compatible with the latest AR gaming technology so that Seokjin can come over and use it whenever he wants. Hobi’s ordering a designer jacket for his birthday? It can’t be orange because Jimin wouldn’t be caught dead wearing orange. 

And the list goes on…

What it ultimately came down to was that Jungkook would be staying at your place over the summer. If you said no, your friends would definitely understand… But you would feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the year. So-

“Thanks for letting me stay here, y/n.” Jungkook wasn’t what you had expected. Although you had received very contrasting, even conflicting, descriptions of him from your friends.

“He’s a shy guy,” Namjoon said while walking his bike out of the university courtyard. “Doesn’t speak to a lot of people easily.”

Seokjin, naturally, had said something completely different. “He’s the toughest guy I know. Dude could easily bench press us all at the same time.”

That had left you a little worried so, of course, you decided to speak to Hobi. “Jungkook? Haha! That guy’s really something else! He barely sleeps at night because he’s playing video games! And he’s a snack monster!”

Your mind immediately went to the basket of snacks you kept at your apartment. There was no way this guy would touch your stuff, right?

“Jungkook’s a total prankster!” Jimin giggled while sipping his iced tea. “You should see the stuff he and Tae get up to sometimes!”

“It’s no big deal.” Your reply lacked the minimal amount of enthusiasm required to not be considered a big deal, though. If Jungkook picked up on that, he didn’t say anything.

Week 1 with Jungkook

The first couple of days went by without any issues. He seemed like a quiet guy who kept to himself - so far Namjoon’s description had been the most accurate - and you supposed two months with him around wouldn’t be terrible.

That’s where you were sorely mistaken. Suddenly, you found the fridge full of banana milk cartons - not a few bottles, mind you, but a few cartons of banana milk. Every single cupboard in the kitchen was now stuffed with protein supplements, low carb snacks, and the entire country’s supply of instant ramen. Now, you didn’t have anything against instant ramen per se - heck, you really enjoyed the beauty of a quick delicious meal at the end of a long day - but this was pushing things a little. Because for every single instant ramen packet placed in the kitchen, something of yours had to be displaced rather dramatically.

For instance, you had woken up early one Tuesday morning, craving chocolate chip pancakes like nobody’s business. The chocolate chips were kept on the middle shelf of the third cupboard from the left - as they had been since you had moved in a year ago. You knew exactly where your things were placed and, having the unassailable confidence of an only child who has never had to share their space and now lives on their own as well, you opened the cupboard door without looking up. This was clearly not as smart a decision as you had imagined because a ton of instant ramen packets came cascading down on your head. 

Jungkook came rushing out of his bedroom, alarmed by the sound of loud and colourful cursing coming from the kitchen. “Is everything okay?!”

The look on your face was probably one Seokjin would have laughed at until he had tears in his eyes. But Jungkook, completely unacquainted with your temper and the peculiar things that set you off, looked like he had just found out that he was allergic to both banana and dairy. Actually, he looked more like Hobi the day he had come home to find Jimin and Taehyung working on the latter’s art project which had resulted in the most tragic paint spill on the most beautiful white carpet in the history of college roommate sagas. 

“Oh shit! The ramen- I’m so sorry, y/n!” Jungkook ran towards you to try and help. Unfortunately, he was both hesitant to physically check if you were okay and eager in his desire to make things alright, resulting in a collision which sent you hurtling towards the ground in what would have been an extremely nasty fall. To Jungkook’s credit, he had some insanely rapid reflexes and managed to catch you before you hit the tiled floor and cracked your skull open. 

There was a brief moment between when he wrapped his arm around your waist and when your brows furrowed in annoyance, where you caught a whiff of his apple-scented shampoo and noticed the tiny mole on the bridge of his nose. 

Cute.

You wriggled out of his hold and fixed him with a look that, hopefully, conveyed that you were supremely displeased with his ramen placement without actually having to tell him off. 

“S-sorry about that.” The look had done its job. Jungkook quickly gathered up the fallen ramen packets and stuffed them into the nearest drawer - which then could not be closed.

“How much ramen do you have…?” Your annoyance was replaced with sheer curiosity at this point.

“Oh, uh… I won a gaming contest and the first prize was a year’s worth of instant ramen.” He scratched the back of his neck self-consciously, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment.

You sighed. “Come on, let me show you the extra storage space behind the shoe cupboard.”

Week 2 with Jungkook

Jungkook wasn’t a loud and inconsiderate roommate. In fact, after the ramen debacle of the first week, he had been coexisting with you quite beautifully. Sometimes you would cook dinner, curse at the fact that you had to cook dinner, and then secretly cherish the absolute delight on Jungkook’s face as he ate the dinner you had cooked. Other times, he would tap into his self-proclaimed noodle know-how and whip up some sort of deluxe instant ramen dish, which always turned out to be heavenly and it was all you could do to stop yourself from moaning in pleasure while you both slurped the noodles.

Then, of course, were the times when you ordered takeout, and somehow attracted all the ravenous souls present on the group chat. It didn’t matter whether it was sushi or tacos or fried chicken or pizza or chinese or even a batch of mini donuts from the tiny shop opposite your apartment - all six of them invariably came knocking a few minutes before the food was delivered.

“Gguk, how’s the summer internship going?” Yoongi was holding his third slice of pizza, sitting on the floor with his legs spread haphazardly. This was one of the rare times when he had dropped by for a random friday hangout - his friday nights were usually reserved for his girlfriend. 

Jungkook looked up from the game he had been playing with Taehyung and Seokjin. “Oh, it’s fine. The usual internship bullshit.” He let out a small winner as his car flew past the others just before the finish line.

“This damn game is rigged,” muttered Seokjin. “How come nobody but Jungkook ever wins?”

“That’s because you suck, Jin!” Jungkook ducked out of the way as Seokjin reached out to punch him. “Face it, racing games aren’t your thing.”

At the other end of the room, Hobi was dozing off at the dining table while Jimin and Namjoon played their 9th game of Go Fish. Yoongi bit into the pizza and motioned Taehyung to get him a beer from the fridge. 

“We should go clubbing.” Taehyung’s impulsive and, frankly, terrible ideas were usually a result of a three-game losing streak. If there was anyone who hated losing more than Seokjin, it was the raven haired guy with soft curls falling on his forehead, staring at all of you with his piercing gaze.

“I’m exhausted. I had classes from 9-7 today,” said Namjoon, waving his hand dismissively.

“I work on Saturdays, Tae. You know that.” Seokjin got up and stretched his arms above his head. “I’m going to head out now.”

“The rest of us can go then.” Taehyung was nothing if not persistent. 

“Hobi’s passed out already. And Soya’s waiting for me at home. So I’m going to drop him and Joon at their place, and then head back myself.”

These negative responses did nothing to deter Taehyung’s determination to go clubbing, which meant that you found yourself smooshed into the back of an uber with Taehyung and Jungkook as Jimin sat shotgun. Not only did you absolutely hate clubbing, but the fact that both Jungkook and Taehyung were very well-built, muscular guys, meant that you basically had one butt cheek of space to sit on.

“You okay?” asked Jungkook, before the four of you walked into the club.

“My left butt cheek is asleep, but otherwise all good.” He giggled at your response, gently laying a hand on your back so that you wouldn’t be separated from the group.

An hour later, you were completely certain of three things.

First off, there was nothing in the world that could make you enjoy clubbing. Not the location, not the music, and not the people you were with. Secondly, the three boys you were with not only had devastating good looks, but also managed to shake up the club with their crowd-pulling dances. Jimin’s style relied heavily on his seductive hip movements while Taehyung was destroying everyone with his smoldering expressions. Jungkook, meanwhile, was running completely on an adrenaline rush, and matched Jimin and Taehyung move for move, adding a sexy amount of aggression to the dances as well.

And finally, Jungkook, despite his muscles and dancing and adrenaline, liked to cuddle when he was extremely exhausted and had someone in his vicinity. That someone happened to be you that night as you came back to the sofa to find him curled up into a ball, his mouth slightly open as he slept peacefully. Your mistake was trying to place a blanket on top of him because you soon found yourself being pulled into his embrace as you became Jungkook’s personal cuddle pillow. You could say that you struggled for a long time, trying to break out of his grasp but he was just too strong for you, so you eventually gave up and fell asleep while cuddling with him on the sofa.

But then you would be lying. 

Week 3 with Jungkook 

Not that you would ever admit it, but Jungkook had a very pert bottom. As bottoms go, his was definitely somewhere in the top tier. The general consensus on campus was that Jimin and Taehyung were the usual contestants in the battle of the first-rate bottoms. But those of the general consensus had clearly never seen Jungkook in skin-tight jeans, kneeling on the floor while trying to reach for the remote that had fallen under the sofa. 

“You’re zoning out again!” Seokjin was seated opposite you and snapped his fingers in front of your face. “You know I hate being ignored, y/n.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you…” Your cheeks colored as you tried to rid your mind of the images of Jungkook from that morning, reaching for the highest shelf and flashing a beautiful strip of impeccably shaped abs.

“Tell me you aren’t daydreaming about Jungkook’s ass.”

“I am not daydreaming about Jungkook’s a-” You closed your mouth quickly, slapping Seokjin’s arm for good measure. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Work’s so boring and you’re so predictably entertaining, y/n,” he grinned and bit into the chocolate cupcake in front of him. “I miss seeing you everyday.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you grumbled.

“Nah, but seriously, Jungkook’s a solid guy - pun completely intended.” You rolled your eyes as he snickered at his joke. “You two would be good together.”

“You’re well aware of my stance on people setting me up, right?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“No one’s setting you up. I’m just saying -” Seokjin popped the remaining half of the cupcake into his mouth - “if there’s potential, you shouldn’t stop yourself.”

Unfortunately, any potential that may have been present, completely fizzled out when you got home that afternoon. You had made one thing perfectly clear the day that Jungkook had moved in with his stuff - your snack supply was completely off-limits. Yet here you were, staring at a near empty basket while Jungkook lounged on the sofa with chocolatey fingers and an empty chips packet lying on the table. 

Pert bottoms definitely did not trump snack supplies - as Jungkook found out the hard way when a pillow came crashing down on him with the wrath of all your ancestors combined.

“Y/n! What the fuck?!” he yelped, ducking from your well-aimed blows.

“My snacks! They’re off limits! Asshole!” You punctuated each word with a smack of your pillow.

“Stop! Stop!” He grabbed the pillow from your hands and threw it as far as he could. “I’m sorry! I was really hungry and there wasn’t anything else at home!”

His stupid big doe eyes were just too damn sincere and you felt yourself deflating and sinking into the sofa. After making sure that you wouldn’t attack him again, Jungkook sat down beside you, nudging you softly with his shoulder. “I was going to go to the asian store once they open in the evening. Do you want to come with and help me replenish the snack supply?”

You huffed in annoyance but gradually rested your head on his shoulder. Jungkook had lived with you long enough to know that that was a yes.

Week 4 with Jungkook

Choosing movies to watch over dinner was always something you struggled with. Not when you were alone. No, you knew exactly what you wanted to watch. Your Netflix suggestions were appropriately lined up with crime dramas and sci-fi thrillers. It was only when there was someone else watching with you that the situation became contentious. Namjoon had a penchant for documentaries, and Hobi and Jimin liked watching musicals. Seokjin refused to watch anything even remotely close to a horror film, and Yoongi and Taehyung always voted for heavy art films. And Jungkook-

“I am not watching Titanic.” You settled into the sofa with your bowl of pasta, reaching forward to grab the soda can on the table.

“Come on, y/n! It’s a classic!” Jungkook whined. You had realised that the boy whined a lot over little things like movie selections and waking up before 8 am. “A tragic tale of true love.”

You snorted into your food. “True love would’ve been if they’d both survived.”

“You’re so cold.” There it was, the infamous Jeon Jungkook pout. It didn’t make an appearance often, but when it did, you found yourself growing weaker and much more likely to give in to whatever stupid thing he wanted.

“Fine. Put it on. But don’t blame me when I end up scrolling through Instagram the entire time.”

“I won’t,” he grinned and sat down next to you. The sofa dipped considerably and you found yourself sliding towards him involuntarily. It wasn’t that this position was uncomfortable - you were actually really fond of unwitting physical contact with your friends. The only problem was the way your heartbeat quickened every time the unwitting contact was with Jungkook. 

By the time the movie was over, Jungkook’s nose was running. It was no secret that he cried during sad movies but you still loved teasing him about how easily characters brought him to tears.

“Damn, look at you crying over Jack and Rose. They’re just fictional characters and Rose didn’t even die! What would you do if I was in their place? Would you cry over me too, Gguk?” You nudged his shoulder playfully.

“No.” His reply was firm and you wondered if he had been offended this time.

“No? Why not?”

“I’d never let that happen to you.”

You could safely say that you had never bolted to the bathroom as quickly as that moment, splashing your cheeks with cold water to bring down the flush.

This wasn’t the only time Jungkook had left you completely speechless, however. He ordered takeout much more than you did, not having time to cook much because of his internship. And his takeout orders usually consisted of either pizza or fried chicken. On most days, you were done with dinner by the time he got home and ordered takeout.

On one such day, you looked up from the spreadsheet you had been working on, your stomach clearly unsatisfied with the grilled cheese sandwich you had eaten a couple of hours ago. Making your way to the kitchen, you rummaged through the contents of the fridge, huffing in annoyance as you found nothing suitable for your current hunger-related dilemma.

“Do you want pizza? I’ve finished but there are a couple of slices left.” Jungkook pushed the box towards you and turned his attention back to his phone. It was a veggie supreme - something that Jungkook always ordered.

“How come there aren’t any olives?” you asked, knowing that that particular pizza store always put olives on their veggie pizzas.

“I asked them to take out the olives.”

“Why? I thought you loved olives.”

“I do. But you don’t eat olives.”

Your mouth hung open for a moment. “But you ordered the pizza for yourself…”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want the olives to stop you in case you wanted to have a slice.”

He hadn’t looked up during the entire conversation but you could see the way his cheeks turned pink and how he kept tugging at his ear. You, yourself, felt your heart soar and bit into a slice of pizza - trying to stop the shit-eating grin from spreading on your face.

After Jungkook

It turned out that Jungkook didn’t need to stay at your place for more than a month. Jimin and Taehyung had somehow convinced their landlord to allow them to move in a month ahead of the designated move-in date, which meant that you were once again living alone. 

It was weird. There was a lot of space in your cupboards once again and the fridge didn’t always smell of chocolate shakes and overripe bananas. You were also free to choose whatever movie you wanted to watch with dinner. But something still felt amiss…

You sighed and reached for your basket of snacks, frowning as your fingers swiped at thin air. Your eyes widened as you glanced at your previously well-stocked supply of snacks, noting the distinct lack of at least 75% percent of its contents.

“JEON JUNGKOOK!”

please leave a comment if you enjoyed this story!  tagging @holynamtiddies​ , @hauntedlilies​

[prettywordsyouleft]

Bothered

Prompt: #129 for @syuperseventeen​ – “Please, forgive me.”

syuperseventeen said:

Hi! Could I please request #129 for the drabble game with S.Coups of SEVENTEEN? Would love a bit of angsty office!au (enemies-to-lovers, maybe?) if possible otherwise anything else you can write is fine! 😊

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol (SCoups) x reader

Genre: enemies to lovers / office au

Warnings: none

Word count: 1576

You stopped mid-sentence, your gaze boring into the man at the far end of the table, your mouth falling ajar.

You couldn’t believe it. Had Choi Seungcheol just fallen asleep in the middle of your presentation?!

Blinking rapidly to regain composure, you smiled hastily, attempting to pick up with the same enthusiasm you had held this entire time. Yet, your attention drifted towards Seungcheol multiple times, causing you to stammer and sound less capable in delivering what you had been working day and night on for weeks.

You would kill him for this.

If there was one thing that was established within the office you worked at, it was that Seungcheol and you regularly butted heads. He was in charge of sales and you ran product support. You should be able to work harmoniously together to ensure the best products and deals reached the hands of your customer base.

However, there was nothing but animosity between you.

After thanking the other members of the meeting for joining you this morning, you collected your things and stalked towards the exit, slapping the back of his head with your file folder as you went by.

Seungcheol should’ve been thankful that was all you did to him right now.

It didn’t take him long to venture out of the meeting, and your current task was brewing yourself a cup of camomile tea to calm down the rage that surged throughout your body. You wouldn’t stoop to the level of screaming at him today.

No, you had done that twice already this week and wanted to attempt to show some level of professionalism for the remaining hours you had in the office today. Still, as you waited for the water to boil, you wrung your hands together, in hopes that would settle the need to wrap them around Seungcheol’s neck instead.

You didn’t need to look up to see it was him when someone entered the staff kitchen a moment later. He chuckled softly. “At least you have a strong hand on you.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“Why, worried you might start screaming again?” he teased, smirking to himself as he reached for a clean cup to place under the coffee machine. Seungcheol then cocked his head to the side. “Nice presentation, by the way.”

You scoffed. “Like you heard it.”

“I haven’t slept that well in weeks! I ought to thank the person who helped me get some much-needed shuteye. Your voice is great for sending me off to sleep. Maybe I should record it so I can play it before bed each night.”

“I cannot believe you!” you shrilled, balling your hands up in hopes to settle yourself before you exploded. “I worked so god damn hard on that and you don’t even have the decency to just sit there.”

“But I did, I didn’t leave the meeting like last time. See, improvements.”

You were passed the point of caring, your calming tea all forgotten about now. “You owe me an apology!”

“Please, forgive me for I have sinned,” Sungcheol proclaimed dramatically, his eyes crinkling up with amusement. “Look, Y/N, it’s not something you needed to speak forty-seven minutes about. You could have just emailed the statistics to everyone instead of wasting their time.”

“Wasting time?! That’s what you do! I asked you for a predicted sale trends report a week ago. Where is it?!”

“Somewhere under the pile of actual work I need to do to keep my department running. If you needed it, you should have-”

“If it wasn’t going to end me in jail, I’d kill you.”

Seungcheol grinned, picking up his coffee. “Ooh, that sounds like fun.”

“Fun?! You’ll be the death of me!”

“Well, then, we’ll die together in that sentiment, won’t we?” he offered before clucking his tongue in farewell, grinning as he left the room.

You screamed in frustration, dumping the tea down the sink before reaching for something stronger.

There would be no way to calm your nerves now.

You were amazed to last four days out of the next week without butting heads with Seungcheol. It was only two days the following week and then you felt as if you suffered daily by something he would instigate.

The problem was you bit the bait each and every time.

“Have you ever stopped to think he’s doing it on purpose?” Joshua mentioned over lunch and you looked at your manager, nodding heartily.

“Of course, he is. No one is that irritating incidentally.”

“No, I mean, with a specific reason.”

You rolled your eyes. “Seungcheol’s quest in life is to make me miserable.”

“Or something else.”

“Like what?” you wondered, blinking slowly at Joshua’s knowing look. You hissed and shook your head. “Are you kidding me?!”

“What, you’re an attractive, hard-headed woman. And Seungcheol is as competitive as they get. You spark a whole lot of banter in him.”

“And he enrages me with pure contempt.”

“Y/N, take a moment to lessen the annoyance and look beneath the surface. You do it too. You wouldn’t speak to Wonwoo in Logistics like you do Seungcheol.”

You agreed. “Because he’s not an asshole!”

“No, because he hasn’t risen your blood pressure above anything amicable. Yet you have a crush on him. Why?”

“Have you seen the guy, he’s gorgeous!”

Joshua shrugged. “And Seungcheol?”

You stopped, allowing yourself to contemplate for a moment over your arch-nemesis’ appearance. He looked strong, as if he worked out regularly. When he smiled at another co-worker, you had once noticed his dimples and found yourself thinking about them for the rest of the day. In fact, when you started here, you had found your eyes travelling towards Seungcheol quite a lot.

You cursed inwardly, even if he was an asshole, he was an attractive one.

It didn’t matter if he was sculpted by the Gods himself, however. There was no way you’d find him someone you’d want to lock lips with now. He infuriated you relentlessly.

You couldn’t allow someone that toxic into your life.

Except, was he really toxic? If you were truly that offended by him, wouldn’t you simply avoid him at all costs?

You blinked out of your unsteady thoughts when you heard Joshua laugh. “Like I said, Y/N, don’t you think there’s more between you both?”

It bothered you to no end. Joshua’s words played over in your head for the rest of the day and by the time you had finally managed to wrap up your tasks for the day, most of the other workers had left.

Groaning loudly at the thought of having dinner even later now, you collected your belongings and stood up, tugging on your coat. When you went to step off, you realised someone was still in the office with you. Seungcheol smirked. “Do you always zone out and think you’re the only one around? Imagine if your sweet Wonwoo heard you groan like that.”

“Must you bother me now?” you grumbled, though with your increasing heartbeat, you began to feel flustered. You closed your eyes in hopes to ease the experience but when you reopened them, Seungcheol was even closer.

You inwardly began to curse out Joshua and his impractical help.

“Why not, you seem to enjoy it.”

“Do I?”

“Well, don’t you?” he asked as you both headed towards the elevator. You looked at him stopping beside you and swiftly turned to the stairwell entrance, hoping if you took the three flights of stairs you could justify the reason for your heart beating this rapidly.

What you didn’t expect was for Seungcheol to follow you. “I didn’t take you one for exercise, Y/N.”

“What did you take me for then?” you huffed, wishing you hadn’t worn your highest pair of heels today. You gasped when the man passed you and then blocked the path forward, teetering in your heels as you cursed out loud.

He smirked. “I’m hearing it all today, huh?”

“Would you just stop bothering me?” you pleaded and Seungcheol’s brows furrowed together. “All day you’ve been bothering me and I’m just tired of it all.”

“I’ve spoken to you less today than all week, do you really hate me that much?”

“Yes,” you immediately answered and then sighed. “No. No, but I need-”

“Need what?”

Sizing him up, you threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. It was instantaneous, the way his mouth caressed yours and his arms wound around you, pulling you closer to him. You sighed into the kiss and that allowed Seungcheol the opportunity to deepen it, the pair of you turning toward the wall for leverage. You didn’t even care that the railing was pressing into your back, too focused on the way Seungcheol was stealing your breath away.

Gasping for air, you separated, staring at one another as you caught your breaths. Seungcheol smiled warmly. “You needed that?”

“More than I realised,” you admitted and he chuckled.

“Maybe you hated that you hadn’t taken a taste yet. You only ever bite so far with my attempts.”

You gaped at him. “You mean…”

“Why else would I make our office life so interesting, Y/N?”

“You better not stop being an asshole just because I kissed you just now,” you instructed and Seungcheol smirked. The emphasis on his swollen lips made you groan and reach for another kiss.

When you pulled away, he nodded softly. “Who knows, maybe I’ll find new ways to rile you up.”

_________________

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[andy-loves-corgis]

All of The Lights - Ch 9 (TRR AU)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: lots of pining.

Rating: M (I can’t make them not curse I guess…).

Word count: ~ 4,000

Notes: I’m a bitch and I have no right to ask for forgiveness, only thank those who are still putting up with my bullshit!

WARNING: Read the Prologue! Every chapter has TWO timelines, Before (about a year before the Prologue) and After (two years after the prologue), if you don’t pay attention to that you might get confused!

Iris

And I would give up forever to touch you

BEFORE

There were voices muffled by the clatter of pans and cutlery at the kitchens, but somehow Savannah’s voice seemed to rise above all the noise pointing at the TV.

“Just look at her.”

Drake did, it was a sequence of pictures from the past couple of weeks, all the royal functions Riley attended alongside Liam, Leo, and Madeleine; the three women on the morning show were analyzing if Riley was there with Liam or just as a maid of honor for Madeleine. In each photo Riley sported her noble grin, he knew it was the fake one because when she smiled fully you could spot the smallest of dimples on her cheeks.

“She looks miserable.” Savannah continued looking for his reaction.

“No, she doesn’t” Drake brushed her off and finished his orange juice in one big gulp before getting up. “Riley is a big girl; she can make her own decisions.”

“Are you going already? I thought you didn’t have classes at all today”

“Well, first…” he kissed the top of her head “… I still work, and Liam texted me to meet him this morning.”

“Oh, because you’re soooooo important!” Savannah laughed rolling her eyes.

Drake pushed another croissant in his mouth and left the kitchens, feeling in the air that the cold was preparing to go away. The competition season would start soon, and he would hate to wake up in the early hours of the morning – as he used to during this events-, to cold weather. He spotted Liam with his black zip-up jacket waiting for him, with a couple of men from the Royal Guard; Drake took his time to pull up the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Hey. Thought you wanted to talk” Drake said greeting his friend.

“I need to blow off some steam, thought it would be good to go for a run. Are you out of shape?” Liam teased.

“As I remember, we did the Army training together, I was the fastest on our squad.”

“Nah, I let you win,” Liam said, and Drake laughed.

“Start running, then. Your highness.” Drake challenged him with a smirk.

After 20 laps, Drake notices signs of fatigue in Liam.

“Come on!” Drake teased, turning on his back but still running ahead of Liam.

“Jesus, what are you made of, Walker?” Liam laughed, throwing his head back almost in exhaustion.

“Whiskey and one-night-stands.” Drake laughed and stopped as soon as they reached their starting point, both leaning on the wall to even their breaths.

“Yeah, about that…” the prince took a big gulp of water from his bottle and turned to his best friend. “What happened at Leo’s bachelor party?”

Drake looked puzzled.

“Did you blackout?”

“No, not at all, actually” Drake knew Liam was trying to keep it cool, but he could see right through him. “You were alone with Riley for some time… did she say anything?”

“Liam, I spend a lot of time alone with Riley, I really can’t see your point…”

“Did something happen?” Liam wasn’t bothering to hide anymore.

Blinking a few times, Drake finally understood where the conversation was heading.

“I won’t bother to answer you, Liam.” Drake stopped leaning on the wall “Riley and I were friends since we were kids.”

“You know she’s completely off-limits, right? Even if we wore broken up, it’s Bro Code.” Liam tried to sound casual.

“Like when you slept with Erika?” the color was drained from Liam’s face when Drake finished his remark.

“You already know what happened” his answer was strained. “She was playing you and took advantage of the fact that I had too much to drink that night after a fight with Riley.”

Drake preferred to believe his longest friend.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I caught both of you naked in bed and never told Riley, that alone could remind you the WE are friends too.” Liam stayed silent after this. “I don’t know if my answer was enough for you, but I have work to do.”

“I… forget what I said, Riley has been weirdly good-behaved, she just makes me unsure…”

“That’s… your problem, Liam.

Drake shrugged and shook his head. He knew he shouldn’t give the literal back to the prince, but it wasn’t like he could handle another minute of awkwardness.

Concentrating was hard in the first hour, he kept reliving the moment where he opened the door of the room Erika was staying, how she was curled up on Liam’s chest. The surprised look on her face, from her to Liam; how she begged for forgiveness.

After three hours he figured he wouldn’t get any work done, so he decided to find Riley and see if she wanted a ride to Valtoria, he was scheduled to select the horses there for the next competition; he wasn’t surprised to find her along with Savannah at the dancing studio.

“I thought I smelled Tiger Balm,” he said as soon as he opened the door. “Should you be doing that already?”

Savannah was sitting on the ground with 3 pairs of ballet shoes and a sewing kit; Riley was right across her in a perfect split.

“You always liked the smell” Riley smiled dodging his question. “See… if you sew an elastic instead of silk, it will allow you more movements.”

“What are all these shoes?” Drake asked.

“Riley gave them to me so I could practice for the presentation” Savannah gave him a toothy grin.

Drake side-eyed Riley, the girl just clenched her jaw, sat back, and got up.

“Oh my, I just forgot I had to meet Maxwell… See you soon, bye!” Savannah exclaimed sensing the change in the atmosphere.

Drake waited until he heard the door closing behind his sister

“We had an agreement on gifts,” he said to her back as she pretended to look for something on her gym bag; he heard the clinking sound of her painkillers shaking in their bottle, she shouldn’t have been training so soon.

A long exhale followed.

“I bought them to myself, but it doesn’t seem like I’m going to wear them anytime soon, does it?” she was in a sour mood grabbing the orange bottle more forcefully than she should.

“I’ll count them as birthday gifts.”

“They are just fucking ballet shoes, Drake!” she turned with her jaw clenched, her blue eyes glimmering. “Helping Savannah is literally the only thing I’m holding onto right now.”

Her fists were balled on the side of her body and her whole frame was slightly shaking.

“Riley” Drake changed to a much softer tone. “Is everything alright?”

She closed her eyes for a second too long.

“Define ‘alright’.”

Drake didn’t say anything else, his hands just circled both of her upper arms and pulled her to his embrace, he felt in his chest as she inhaled and exhaled deeply, containing her tears. Even as a child, Riley hated crying in front of anyone.

“Hey, New York is just around the corner, ok?” Drake said and a sob escaped her mouth. “Soon you’ll be oceans away.”

Her sobbing was uncontrollable now.

“I’m not going.” Her voice was muffled by his chest.

“Wait… what happened?” he took a step back and his heart clenched at the sight of her watery eyes.

“I burned my acceptance letter two weeks ago, it was just bullshit, Drake. Everyone knows I can’t escape this place.” She forcefully wiped a tear that rolled down her cheek.

A small part of him, a part he would hardly acknowledge, was relieved to hear she wasn’t leaving; although, there was another part of him that was dying to see her like that. He always imagined Riley as an exotic bird inside a golden cage.

“You shouldn’t have done that!” he pulled her back to his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Things are going to be fine; I can’t tell you how, but they will, even if I have to make them be, ok?”

She sniffed on his chest.

“´k”

“Hey, let me take you back to Valtoria tonight, I’m headed there anyway” he moved back just a little to see her quickly drying her eyes.

“Yeah, that would be good, thanks.” She gave him a small smile.

“Be ready at 6 pm”

Drake left the room with a strange feeling at the pit of his stomach. Getting back to his office, he tried to concentrate on the paperwork for the next competition; stopping a little early than 6, he scrolled through his Instagram and something caught his attention, a smile spread on his face as he realized how he could lift Riley’s mood.

For some unknown reason, his legs were shaking while he waited for her outside his truck, it got worse once he saw her leaving the castle, wearing just jeans and no makeup on.

“Ready?” she asked, she sounded a little more cheerful than in the afternoon.

“Yeah” he opened the door and helped her hop in his Silverado.

As he drove far from the palace she seemed to relax, even more, concentrated on the changing blue sky as the night fell.

“We’ll need to stop somewhere first…” Drake started uncertain, regretting his words as soon as he said them.

“Where are we going?” she looked at him puzzled. “Are you gonna kill me and dispose of my body in the woods?”

Drake rolled his eyes and threw his cellphone on her lap.

“Sometimes I think I should…” he joked but stopped to study her face as a crease appeared between her brows.

“Are you serious?” she looked at him suspiciously. “Is this a prank? You would NEVER do this…”

“I can head right to Valt…”

“NO NO, we’re going” she reached for the steering wheel.

“You’re a danger even in the passenger seat, York” Drake pretended to slap her hand; he couldn’t help but smile at her excitement.

He parked his truck in front of the Wood Wheel and Riley hopped off the car like a child anxious to get into the park.

“Am I allowed to record?” she asked grinning.

“No” he stated, pulling his guitar from behind his seat. “I’m only doing this because I hate owing you.”

“Whatever you say, Walker…”

Getting inside, they were welcomed by the smell of Al’s greasy fries, loud chatter, and someone finishing a song on the makeshift stage at the right corner.

“Look if it isn’t my favorite costumer and again, he brought his girl that knows how to drink.” Al greeted them from the counter.

“Al doesn’t understand the term ‘friends’” he threw Riley an unapologetic look and she shrugged, making a beeline to the bar and grabbing a glass of wine for her and whisky for him.

“Drake’s gonna sing today!” Riley stated excited sitting on the stool.

“Oh, is he?” Al looked at him puzzled as Drake rested his guitar on the floor.

“I lost a bet” he mumbled grabbing his glass.

Al snorted, cleaning another glass.

“I have a free slot in half an hour, I’ll be waiting” Al mocked him.

After his second glass, he felt more at ease, especially after watching Riley chat cheerfully with Al, the remnants of her sadness not showing anymore.

“Ohhhh, it’s your turn, I’m so excited! I’ll get to check another one of the items on my bucket list for this year!” Riley clapped unable to contain her excitement.

Drake exhaled loudly and turned to grab his guitar when he felt Riley’s small hands on his biceps.

“Hey” her voice was hoarse, maybe for all the wine, she was drinking. “It’s going to be great.”

“It’s pretty packed, isn’t it?” Drake averted his eyes to all the occupied tables in front of the stage.

“It doesn’t matter, pretend it’s just us. Like we’ve done a hundred times”

He nodded and gulped despite all the encouragement from Riley.

Trying not to look at anyone on the tables, he silently sat on the stool with his guitar and adjusted his microphone.

“Hum, hello everyone. My name is Drake and I lost a bet.” The crowd laughed and brown eyes met ocean blue.

With a sigh, his fingers hit the strings.

I've been roaming around Always looking down at all I see Painted faces, fill the places I can't reach

You know that I could use somebody You know that I could use somebody

Someone like you, and all you know, and how you speak

 He tried to focus solely on his fingers hitting the strings, the hot light above him, muffling any sound of the crowd singing along, or the way his heart skipped a beat by his unconscious choice of song.

 Off in the night, while you live it up, I'm off to sleep Waging wars to shape the poet and the beat I hope it's gonna make you notice I hope it's gonna make you notice

Someone like me

 Although it wasn’t a matter of someone, more of a matter of somewhere, some other reality, because, in this one, this was just a song, it had to be just a song.

Drake finished the last notes with everyone in the bar singing along and clapping after he finished, completely flushed, and not from his whiskey.

“You were AMAZING!” Riley almost shrieked in excitement. “this was the best night EVER! God, I want to pee… wait a minute and we can go.”

Riley didn’t let him say anything before rushing to the bathroom.

“Your girlfriend is something else!” Al laughed pouring him some whisky.

“I’ve already told you, she’s not my girlfriend.” He drank half of his shot in a big gulp.

“Ok, but have you told her?” Al looked at him mischievously. “Because she was sitting right there where you are, looking at you like a lost puppy crazy to follow you home.”

“She’s not remotely interest… Hey York! Should we go?”

Riley was back with a half-drunk smile.

“Sure!”

The ride to Valtoria was peaceful, a recomforting silence with the radio buzzing old songs while Riley closed her eyes feeling the chilly night air on her face.

Drake parked his car on the west wing of her estate, where she could get inside by the kitchen door and he would be just a short walk from the staff’s rooms. He made sure to help her out of the car, not prepared to be that close to her.

“Thank you for this night” her voice was above a whisper.

“That’s what best friends are for” he winked and for a split of a second, he thought he saw her smile falter.

“Yeah you’re a great friend” she kissed his cheek for a second too long. “Good night, Drake.”

“Good night, Riley.”

He watched as she moved towards the entrance, turning to glance at him before entering, a pang in his chest hit him heard. He hoped he was having a heart attack.

AFTER

“No! You’re not putting any animal down without me saying so!” Drake almost shouted on the phone, Yanis, one of his assistants pretended he wasn’t witnessing the awkward moment. “You’re going to wait for me to get there then we talk. Bye!”

Drake almost threw his phone on the table and exhaled loudly.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, what happened?”

Yanis fidgeted on his seat.

“Hum, Lady Riley was here a while ago, she said she needed some files”

Shit, he forgot to hand them to her.

“Damn, if you see her, tell her I’ll have them delivered to her quarters today.

“She actually asked you to meet her at 3 pm, somewhere called South Wing.”

“Yeah, ok, anything else?” the boy just shook his head and got up as fast as he could.

Drake exhaled again; he didn’t want to scare the boy. He was one of the good ones sent from the company that now took care of the Royal horses.

He remembered how was to enter his office again after everything happened. Drake actually couldn’t remember how one thing led to another; how coming back from the hospital turned to join the taskforce against The Sons of Earth, then sharing a whiskey with Liam when they finally caught the bastards. Applying again for his job as an official Royal Veterinarian, now to a company, not Liam.

Everything got back to normal. Then she came back.

He gave up on his report and decided to do some handwork to pass the time.

 Riley’s back came into view as soon as his feet reached the grass; she seemed too absorbed by the view in front of her to notice Drake getting closer.

“Hey,” he said, and she was startled by his voice.

“Ohmygod… sorry, my mind was elsewhere.” She shook her head.

He followed her eyes to the window, they were facing the south wing of the castle, right beside the grand ballroom, the wing housed the conservatory and a dance studio, where right now a bunch of noble preteens were having a ballet class.

“Do you still dance?” Drake caught himself asking.

Riley chuckled and shook her head.

“I don’t dance at all.”

“At all? I pretty much saw you waltzing a couple of times since you came back.” She turned her head to face him and gave him half a smile.

“Waltzing is like shaking hands, you do it because you have to.”

“So, you’re telling me that you haven’t gone out clubbing in NY?” Drake questioned almost amused.

“Well, it was considered risky behavior for a person like me” she let the sentence hang in the air. “But yeah, I barely danced two songs in the past two years.” She shrugged like it was no big deal.

Drake stayed silent for long seconds, thinking through the sentence he wanted to say.

“You should do it; I know there’s a part of you dying to.”

He didn’t mean it to sound so personal, he just couldn’t help it; Riley blushed and looked at her feet before clearing her throat.

“Did you get her last address?” she changed the subject.

“Oh yeah, here it is” he offered her a folder with the little information he had gathered on Savannah’s whereabouts. “you’re not paying anything for it, right?”

“No, I beat up a PI at poker in New York and he owed me a favor for letting him go in his car.” She laughed to herself.

“Why does this story sound so much like bullshit?”

“His name is Damien Nazario, he was there with his girlfriend and another weird couple, you can look up for him online.” She smirked, “And for the record, I’m really good at poker.”

“So… poker wasn’t risky behavior?”

“We need to beat our vices one at a time, Walker” she laughed a little more truthfully. “So… that was another thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

Drake tensed.

“I went to the Wood Wheel yesterday and ended up bumping on Cassidy” Drake’s stomach clenched and Riley blushed from the awkwardness of the situation “Sorry, I didn’t know she was your girlfriend, she seems really nice though… hum, I obviously didn’t say anything and…”

She started twisting her fingers.

“And…?”

Riley sighed and leaned on the window,

“Look, I know it’s too much to ask, but no one never knew we were together…” it was almost painful to have the words together thrown at him. “well, aside from some people in the court… but, we could pretend it never happened so I wouldn’t lose my favorite bar.”

“You want me to lie to my girlfriend?” Drake rose a brow to her.

“No, I’m just asking for you not to blatantly tell her” he held his gaze on her shameful eyes. “Look, Wood Wheel is the only place I can drink without being bothered by people knowing me or paparazzi showing up. If she asks you, you do what you want to do, but think for a moment that we can bury whatever happened to us and just move on. This is the perfect chance.”

Whatever happened to us. Ouch.

“Okay… It’s not like I would want her to find out.”

Riley nodded not looking directly at him.

“Well… I got to go and email this stuff to Damien; I’ll tell you as soon as he gives me a lead.” Riley tried to brush off the awkwardness with a half-smile.

“Okay” Drake silently answered.

Returning to his office he got his phone back, noticing there were a couple of calls from Cassidy.

“Hey, Cass,” he said as soon as she picked up.

“Hey, Drake! How’s your day going?”

“Pretty normal, how about you?”

“Well…” she started and he heard the sound of the pans behind her. “the Chef is a little moody today, but the movement is low, not many tourists, so I’m now consuming Cordonian gossip.

“Oh… why?”

“I mean, in Greece we don’t have an ‘active’ Royal Family, sometimes I even forgot they existed, but here they are like celebrities.”

“Hum” Drake huffed not wanting to get to this conversation so soon. “Most of them are just assholes with money.”

“About that… Is ‘Lady Bitch’ related to Riley York?”

There it was.

“Yes, she’s her mother. Why?”

“Oh, I met Lady Riley yesterday… at Wood Wheel.” She finished like it was a surprise to find the noble there. “It seems like Al knows her, he even let her go out for a smoke with a glass on her hands.”

“I saw her there a couple of times in the past, before…. The whole thing”

Before I pulled her half-dead body from the ocean.

“Do you know her? She dated Prince Liam, you’re friends with him, right?”

“Yeah, I know her, everyone kind of know each other, is a small circle.”

That was safe.

“Hope she comes back to the bar when is our night, she looks like she tips well.” She laughed and he tried to follow. “Oh, I gotta go, Matt is calling me. Bye!”

“Bye…”

The rest of his shift was spent reliving the conversation.

He exhaled loudly. Drake didn’t like lying, and it felt like he was lying all the time, even if Cassidy would never think about Riley and him being anything but acquaintances; if he was being true to himself, he had been feeling close to suffocating ever since Riley came back, things were simpler then, now everything was gray, except for one of those exotic blue-ish flowers that always caught his eyes on the way back to his room.

Not even the chilly air of the garden was calming his nerves, then he noticed a light that wasn’t supposed to be there, the south wing was usually dark by that time at night, the only other times he recalled someone using it at was way back…

When Riley still danced.

He stopped dead in tracks near the window, watching as she executed a triple spin, only to stumble on her feet; he could see her frustration, her brows joined as some strands of hair fell from her bun to her face. Giving up, she sat on the floor and started to untie her shoes, she gave a long sigh when the music coming from the speakers changed drastically.

The sweet strings from Dramarama’s cover filled the room; she looked as surprised as him, they used to hear that song at full volume in his car right when he started driving. Now barefoot on the wooden floor, she got up and started to shake her shoulders timidly, then her hips followed… her legs and her arms.

 Do you wanna eat? Do you wanna sleep? Do you wanna drown?

Just settle down, settle down, settle down.

I’ll give you candy, give you diamonds, give you pills

I’ll give you anything you want. Hundred-dollar bills.

The song related morbidly to her, but it seemed to give her strength, totally lost on the beat; jumping around and biting her lips she untied her hair and let it fall loose shaking her head.

It was when a full-blown smile took over her face, with dimples and all.

Seeing those little dimples on the corner of her mouth as she smiled to the roof with her head thrown back, swaying hips and arms, he remembered why storms were named after people.

.

I just love you guys!

@saivilo​; @kimmiedoo5​; @pug-bitch​; @bee1arw​; @laurmillen​; @axwalker​​; @world-of-dreams-and-muse​; @rtinaz​​; @iplaydrake​​; @notoriouscs​​; @mind-reader1​​; @annekebbphotography​​; @walkerismychoice​​;  @tmarie82; @blackwidow2721; @thequeenchoices; @missameliep; @jovialyouthmusic; @perksof-everything; @choicesmacmakes; @carabeth @drakenazario; @drakesensworld; @moneyfordiamonds; @ao719; @lynne1993; @ilovedrakewalker23; @msjpuddleduck; @drakewalkerisreal; @violinist3121; @wannabemc2; @gibbles82; @furiousherringoperatortoad; @jens-diamondchoices; @rainbowsinthestorm​; @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore; @emceesynonymroll; @addictedtodrakefanfic; @texaskitten30; @dcbbw; @i-bloody-love-drake-walker; @mom2000aggie;

[supremeuppityone]

Written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events Prompt: “You’re safe.” 

This is a sequel to Chapter 70: Summer of Salvatore, found in A Beautiful Symmetry. Thanks for all of your asks about this one and I appreciate your patience in how long it took me to come up with the idea for this! 

Caroline just wanted to casually date the mysterious new guy from work. Something nice and normal. But the universe had other plans.

Chapter 115: Part 2 - Summer of Salvatore

"Crime is common. Logic is rare."

— Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Copper Beeches

           “You didn’t hesitate when I gave you the address,” Caroline observed, taking a sip of her coffee. “I mean, I know you’re new to town, but everyone knows the south side of the city is a bit shady.”

           Klaus let out a chuckle, amusement dripping from his voice as he asked, “Detective Forbes, are you concerned for my safety? I can assure you, given your act of valor at that crime scene, I can’t imagine a safer place than at your side.”    

           She could feel her cheeks grow hot, and she ducked her head shyly. She’d relied on instinct when Stefan had attacked them, and while she never went for the kill unless she had to, there was no denying the relief that washed over her once she saw he was dead. He’d been a monster. “I’m just glad I was there to stop him.” She fiddled with her nails, a nervous edge to her voice as she asked, “As much as I hate that you were there, I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable going back with me? I’ve been asked to provide a detailed report of my findings and I could really use your perspective since you may have observed something I missed.”

           He looked surprised by her invitation and she hurriedly explained, “I mean, the methodology established to empirically score copycat crimes is measured in seven factors ranging from sociology, biology and psychology, not to mention influences of the media and even geography, and I just don’t want to overlook a single opportunity for a thorough report given the potential ramifications this case could have on future criminal justice procedures.”

           Klaus flashed her a dimpled smirk, taking a drink of his coffee as though contemplating something. “Of course. You’re a widely respected expert in your field, sweetheart, and I’m flattered that you asked.”  

           She could feel her cheeks grow hot at his perusal. “Um, sorry...I didn’t mean to ramble on about forensics and crime scenes on a date.” Tucking a blonde curl behind her ear, she muttered, “Guess it’s been awhile for me,” and then immediately squeezed her eyes shut, mortified.

           He reached across the table to hold her hand, winking as he said, “I don’t mind a bit of murder on a first date.”

           She returned his smile, hardly believing her luck. It was really difficult to meet someone who wasn’t turned off by forensics, and this was the first date she’d had with a coworker who hadn’t been a misogynist who instantly discounted her research. “Can I ask how you got into this field? Have you always been a dispatch driver?”

           “It’s a recent change for me, but I’ve always been interested in the more historic aspects of murder. For example, are you familiar with ling chi? It’s known as —”

           “Slow slicing or death by a thousand cuts initially practiced in 10th century China,” Caroline interrupted excitedly.

           Klaus smiled, his gray eyes lighting up at her enthusiasm. “I always found it fascinating to see the ingenuity involved in finding blades sharp enough in that era to gradually shave away the bits of skin and muscle tissue.”

           “Exactly! Murder weapons are such an essential part of forensics,” she replied a bit breathlessly, her heart beating a bit faster when she saw the unmistakable lust in Klaus’ gaze. She was giddy at the thought of finding someone who shared her enthusiasm for criminal science forensics. She noticed Klaus suddenly stiffened as he studied something intently behind her. She glanced at the reflection in the window, frowning as she realized someone had walked in wearing a Halloween mask and the black tip of a small caliber gun was peeking out of his sleeve.

           Seriously? Of course this would happen on her date. Taking a calming breath, she slowly slid her phone over to Klaus, murmuring quietly, “Call 911.” Using carefully controlled movements, she quietly removed her concealed sidearm, promising, “You’re safe. It’s going to be ok, I promise.”  

           The would-be robber had just raised his gun to the cashier when Caroline yelled, “Police! Put down your weapon and turn around slowly!” She could read in those tense muscles that the suspect would run, but before she could make a move, he hopped over the counter, putting the cashier between them as he made his escape. Registering the clatter of his weapon being dropped in the commotion, she raced after him, briefly pausing in the brick alleyway to determine which way he went.  

           Running in the most likely direction, she stopped short when she saw Klaus casually holding the suspect against the rough brick. Arm wrenched up his back in what appeared to be a painful wrist hold, his face was scrunched as he howled. Stepping over the mask that must have fallen off in the struggle, Caroline wryly observed, “Did you run track or something? How’d you manage to beat me here?”

           Klaus shrugged, a small smile on his face as he replied, “Perhaps I’m faster than I look.”

                                  _______________________________

           Something weird was going on. Caroline brushed some of the ashy residue into a sterile envelope, sighing as she mentally went over everything she knew about desiccation and growing more and more frustrated as she couldn’t find a rational explanation. Stefan sustained a gunshot to his tibia. Which should’ve crippled him. Instead, it seemed to enrage him further and when he leapt at her, she issued a fatal headshot.

           She felt little remorse at having brought down a serial killer; especially one that had posed an imminent danger to both Klaus and herself. What she found disturbing was the accelerated decomposition of Stefan’s remains. What the hell happened? By the time dispatch had arrived, Stefan’s corpse appeared as though he’d been dead for more than a century.      Frowning, she studied the chalk outline notating where the remains had been prior to her team’s removal, and Klaus’ amused voice interrupting her thoughts. “It’s almost as though you expect the evidence to talk back, sweetheart.”

           Carefully pressing an evidence seal to the envelope, she replied, “All evidence speaks; it’s just a matter of understanding what’s being said.” She settled more comfortably on the plastic sheet, blue eyes straying back to the powdered residue that clung to the grooves in the wooden floor. “Accelerated desiccation is almost unheard of in forensics. I can’t account for what happened to Stefan’s body. The remains appeared to have been subjected to an even source of airflow or aerated soil to damage the soft tissues in that manner.”

           He leaned back on his palms, stretching his legs out next to hers, and the almost-touch of his body made her shiver. Crime scene, Caroline — get it together. “There’s emerging studies regarding destructive micro-organisms contributing to desiccation. I actually read an interesting take on this in Drs. Parker and Sommers’ joint work in the latest Forensics Quarterly,” he ventured, a small smile gracing his lips as though pleased with himself.

           It was a statistical improbability that someone with those cheekbones would read Forensics Quarterly. When they wrapped up the scene for the night, she planned to drag him back to her place to ride his test tube until it broke. “Seriously?! You’re trusting Parker and Sommers’s research? You might as well say a Kardashian is a respected forensics authority.”

           He let out an amused chuckle, pulling her in for a quick kiss. “You are a delight, love. It’s rare to find someone so enthusiastic about this type of work.”

           Her lips burned from the kiss, and her pulse raced when she thought of where the night would take them. She’d never met someone who seemed to genuinely appreciate the science behind the macabre. “It’s hard for people who aren’t in the field to understand. There’s a certain beauty to it; the way the research can lead to a hypothesis and eventually a satisfying resolution.”

           “There was a...case I worked on in which a body had been drained while hanging right-side-up. Utter poppycock as everyone knows the most efficient draining method is —”

           “Upside-down,” Caroline cheerfully interrupted, “because the subclavian and carotid arteries’ location is ideal. No self-respecting killer would attempt draining without having a basic understanding of anatomy.” A slight tingle went down her spine as she realized that Klaus seemed to appreciate her dark humor. It was nearly impossible to succeed in this industry without developing at least a hint of gallows humor.

           He shook his head in bemusement, and she barely resisted the urge to poke at those innocent-looking dimples. But they still had work to do. Clearing her throat, she leaned over to access her files, zooming in on the dental images from the remains. “I’ll admit I’ve seen some unusual remains during my career, but nothing like this.” She pointed at the obvious deformity, adding, “It’s a clear case of megadontia, but I can’t imagine someone willingly allowing their condition to grow out of control like this to the point that they have large, curved canines. Given the depth of the unnatural growth, he must’ve been in incredible pain.”

           Stefan had smiled at her. With those teeth that had been so sharp. Too sharp. Caroline had been proud of how she’d handled the situation, but something primal had overtaken her when she saw those canines. Fangs. She shook her head slightly, ignoring the cold pit in her stomach that inexplicably had formed. Klaus looked decidedly uncomfortable, and she cursed herself for being so oblivious. Clearly, Klaus was traumatized by what had happened and it was selfish of her to expect him to bounce back right away after seeing such violence.

           However, before she could apologize, Klaus abruptly stood up, helping her to his feet even as he seemed weirdly fixated on the front door. Suddenly, a forceful blow had the wood splintering, and two musclebound, intimidating men with dark eyes walked in. Their vacant, mindless stares were somehow more disquieting than their size.

           “Caroline, there you are,” drawled a familiar voice, and she didn’t miss the way Klaus stiffened as he moved in front of her.

           Peering around Klaus, her eyes widened in surprise as she exclaimed, “Dr. Maxfield? What are you doing here?” What was her biology professor from Whitmore doing at her crime scene?

           He still wore the same smug grin she’d done her best to forget all those years ago. There always had been something vaguely threatening about him, but Caroline inevitably dismissed it as the typical sleazy college professor creeping on naive students and made sure to steer clear whenever he tried to get her alone multiple times. But now there was something more. Something dangerous. As he took a cocky step toward her, Klaus growled in warning. Wait — Klaus growled?

           “Forgive my intrusion, but I’ve been following your fascinating work for some time now, and your research of the Ripper of Monterey’s murders over the past century caught my attention,” he explained, eyeing his two companions in a manner that was both reverent and dispassionate — he might as well have been examining a piece of art. “I’m certain your research will aid me in locating other ripper vampires capable of successfully hosting the Ripper Virus my lab has created.”

           Ripper vampires? Ripper Virus? Not to mention his ridiculous assertion that murders spanning more than a century could’ve been the work of a single individual. What the hell was going on? Caroline kept her hand next to her sidearm, studying Professor Maxfield and his companions to determine the threat.

           Suddenly, black veins appeared underneath the dark eyes of the two men who bracketed Professor Maxfield, their sharp canines inexplicably long. What the hell? Those were fangs. She was staring at fangs. Fear gripped her heart, but she was proud of how steady her grip was as she raised her gun.

           She flicked her gaze to Klaus, who seemed strangely at ease. He rocked back on his feet, hands casually clasped behind his back as he sneered, “Words cannot express the trouble you find yourselves in, gentleman.” With his signature smirk, he added, “I’m Klaus Mikaelson.”

           It was when Klaus shockingly revealed a double set of curved fangs along with feral gold flashing in his gaze that Caroline began to understand. She was safe. Professor Maxfield and his companions were not. The intruders stepped back uncertainly, no longer flanking Professor Maxfield like vicious guard dogs. “Ah, you’ve heard of me. Fantastic,” Klaus said, his chest swelling with pride.

           While Caroline felt her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her chest, she somehow wasn’t afraid with Klaus beside her. He’d positioned himself between her and the intruders, clearly comfortable in this dangerous situation, but also not willing to risk her safety. He leaned into her, and her body instinctively curled into his.

           Klaus’ voice carried a solemn promise that despite the insanity around them, Caroline couldn’t help but believe as he told her, “You’re safe. It’s going to be ok, I promise.”  

[nickelkeep]

Among the Wildflowers

Pairing: Dean/Cas, Dean/Cain (prior), Cain/Colette Rating: Teen Word Count: 7.3K Warnings: Mentions of a V-Polycule, Dean’s a bit of an ass in this one. Written For: nickel’s story time On Ao3

Dean pulled into a spot behind the library, double-checking the time. Early as usual, but Jody's jeep was also there, parked in her usual spot. He climbed out of his Impala, giving a loving pat on her hood, before heading to the backdoor and checking the handle. The door was unlocked, and Dean stepped inside, wondering what had gotten Jody into the library before noon.

"Dean, is that you?" Jody peeked out of her office before stepping into the hallway. "Good, you're the second person here."

"Assuming you're the first?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Not that I don't enjoy spending time with you, but it's almost seven a.m. on a Monday. Either there's something bad happening, or something big."

"Why does your mind go right to bad?" Jody leaned against the doorframe to her office. "You know we've been going through interviews to replace Cain."

Dean tried his hardest not to flinch and found himself swallowing down bile. "Yeah. And I specifically said I shouldn't be a part of it."

"And we respected that request, Dean." Jody stepped across and gently squeezed Dean's shoulder. "His replacement is starting today and should be here by 7:15."

"Couldn't think to warn me first?" Dean's mouth opened in shock. "Morning, Dean, oh, by the way, Cain's replacement starts within the next..." Dean looked at his watch. "twenty minutes?"

Jody shot Dean a glare before softening her expression. "I know it was especially hard on you, Dean, but do you think it was easy on the rest of us? Cain was one of the first Librarians when we opened this branch. He'll always be family." She gently patted Dean's cheek. "But you know we couldn't get by on just you, me, and Garth. Not even with the volunteers."

"I know." Dean nodded in reluctant agreement. "So, what's the plan?"

"I need you to finish clearing off Cain's desk. Garth is content staying in his little closet of an office, so our new Librarian is joining you." Jody lightly shoved Dean's shoulder. "I'll come and get you in a few."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're punishing me." Dean turned to continue down the hallway to his office. "What happened to me being your favorite?"

"You'll always be my favorite. Just like Garth will always be my favorite." She ducked back inside of her office, leaving Dean alone in the hallway.

As he stepped inside his office, Dean took a look around. For the past five years, he had shared this space with Cain. Dean knew the inevitable was coming before anyone else did. Cain had pulled him aside and said that he was moving himself and Colette down to a warmer climate to give her a fighting chance with her illness. But having that warning didn't make seeing his partner, his confidant, his lover leave any easier.

Dean traced his fingers along the rich wood of Cain's desk - soon to be the new guy's desk - his stomach dropped, and the pain he thought he had buried came bubbling up to the surface. Dean quickly looked around the room and found an old file box and started clearing off the desk. Jody had humored him for too long, letting him imagine that Cain was still sitting across from him.

Dean carefully put each item into the box. Cain left these small mementos behind for Dean, after all. His thoughts focused on the conversation Cain sat him down for, Colette at his side. She wasn't getting better, she would only continue to get worse, and the doctors recommended a warmer, drier location for her. Colette knew how much Dean meant to Cain and suggested that he came along.

They both knew he wouldn't. Their offer was kind, but packing up his entire life, leaving his family behind? Dean couldn't do it. He traced his finger down the picture Cain had kept of them on his desk, Cain pressing a kiss against Dean's temple as Dean smiled brightly at the camera, and set it in the box.

Dean finished packing away the few things on Cain's desk, making sure the drawers were cleared out when there was a knock on the doorframe. Garth stood there, hands in his pockets. "Heya, Dean. Jody sent me to come and get you. The new guy has arrived."

"Okay." Dean put the lid on the box and carried it back to his side of the office. He looked at how the two desks faced each other, pressed together, how it had allowed him to look at Cain every day. Dean shook his head and turned to Garth. "You meet him already?"

"Just saw him come in." Garth shrugged, his cheek pulling into an overemphasized dimple. "Jody met him at the backdoor and let him in, then took him to her office. I think she was preparing him to meet us and the few long time volunteers who were close with Cain."

Dean meekly nodded. "First impressions?"

"I mean, if we're going based off of looks alone, he'll definitely keep our book clubs excited." Garth bit the inside of his cheek, a tell that Dean was familiar with. Garth was lying.

"You already know him, don't you?"

Garth pointed at his cheek. "I did the thing, didn't I?"

"It's how I mop the floor with you on poker nights." Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm serious, Garth. He's literally taking my ex's seat. The one I didn't want to lose. What do I need to know about him?"

"Castiel is good people, Dean. We went to school together. Graduated top of his class. After school, he went back home to Illinois to take care of his ailing dad. His dad died, he didn't want to live in Illinois anymore, and we had the spot open up here. It was almost as if it were perfect timing, Dean!" Garth turned his puppy dog eyes on to eleven. "Give him a chance. For me?"

Dean rubbed at his eyes before gesturing for Garth to lead the way. "Only cause you asked so nicely." He quietly followed behind his friend and colleague, waiting patiently for Jody to say they could come in after Garth knocked on her office door.

Once the permission was granted, Garth stepped in first, pulling the new guy - Castiel he had said - to his feet and into a firm hug. Garth took a glance at Jody, met with a nod, and turned to Dean, "Dean Winchester, allow me to introduce you to our newest Librarian. Castiel Novak."

"Pleasure to meet you, Dean." Castiel extended his hand out, and Dean reluctantly took it. "Garth has told me a lot about you."

"He has?" Dean looked over at Garth, his eyebrow raised, before mouthing 'Cain?' Garth shook his head, and Dean nodded his appreciation. "Wish I could say the same about you."

"Well, I hear we're to be sharing an office?" Castiel tilted his head, and Dean couldn't stand how friendly the guy was being. It was making it way too hard to hate him. "I have a feeling we'll get to know each other pretty well."

"Something like that." Dean let go of Castiel's hand and took a moment to actually take a look at the man. He was about the same height as Dean, if maybe a little shorter, and his dark brown hair looked like the thick luscious locks he could run his fingers through. And this guy's eyes? Dean would be lying if he didn't admire the deep blue color piercing into his soul.

A deliberate, interrupting cough came from Dean's side, and he turned to look at Garth. A knowing smirk was on Garth's lips, and Dean turned bright red. "Everything alright there, Dean-O?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean looked back at Castiel before looking at Jody, who was returning his look with a scrutinizing glance. "I just zoned out there for a second. I haven't had my caffeine yet, and I think my brain froze." He felt the heat of his blush rise up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. "I should probably fix that before I actually have to deal with the public. Excuse me." Dean turned and quickly exited Jody's office, heading down to the break room.

Dean softly cursed himself under his breath as he pulled out the makings for coffee. As he prepped the machine, he started spiraling into a small pit of self-hatred. While Dean swore that he wouldn't hate anyone who replaced Cain, he didn't expect to be instantly fascinated. It was almost an insult to what he had with Cain, and Dean couldn't take it. He leaned back on the counter and waited as the coffee started to drip.

"My apologies." The soft, gravelly voice of his new coworker pulled Dean out of his downward dive. "It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable."

"You didn't." Dean shook his head, turning to face the coffee machine again. "Like I said..."

"You need your caffeine." Castiel finished Dean's sentence.

"Yep. Didn't stop, and I forgot to set my pot at home last night." Dean reached up into the cabinet above his head and grabbed one of his mugs that stayed at the library. He let out a breath and looked over at Castiel. "Want a cup? You can borrow one of my mugs until you bring your own."

"No, but thank you." Castiel leaned against the doorframe. "I don't drink coffee, but I do enjoy a nice hot cup of tea."

Dean nodded in acknowledgment. "I'll try and remember that." He removed the pot as the last drips fell out from the spout and filled his mug. "So, I guess you probably want to see the office you're going to be splitting with me?"

"If you don't mind?" Cas offered a small smile. "Jody said you'd take care of me."

Dean swallowed hard, remembering what Cain had said to him about taking care of their family of misfits before driving off. "I uh... Yeah." Dean pointed towards the hallway and found himself leading Castiel down to their office. He stood in the doorway for a second, taking one last glance of it the way it was, before moving aside. "That's my desk on the left, yours is the one across from it.

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel entered the room and looked around. "It's very cozy."

"You can just say it's small, Cas." Dean crossed to his chair and sat down, kicking his feet up on his desk.

"Cas?" Cas raised an eyebrow in question. "I didn't realize we were at the nickname stage."

Dean shrugged. "Your name's a bit of a mouthful, no offense."

"None taken."

"I can call you something else? Mr. Novak?" Dean took a swig of his coffee before setting it on the desk.

Cas smirked as he crossed to his desk. "Mr. Novak was my father. I'm fine with Cas, Dean."

"Well, then. I'm gonna finish up my coffee, and then I've got some procurement orders to fill out..." Dean watched as Cas traced his fingers along the desk, much like he had that morning, and looked around the room. "Everything okay?"

"This is a fascinating setup." Cas pointed at the two desks, then around the rest of the room. "You could, however, probably make more space in the room with some small rearrangements."

Dean shook his head, unsure if he heard Cas correctly. "I'm sorry, did you say rearrange?" He pulled his feet down from his desk and pulled himself closer, tucking his legs underneath. "There's nothing wrong with this arrangement."

"You called the room small, Dean, I was just merely offering a suggestion." Cas frowned. "I'm sorry."

"I was responding to your comment about the room being 'cozy.''' Dean shook his head. This was not going the way it was supposed to, not that Dean had really envisioned someone other than Cain sitting across from him.

As though he were psychic, Cas sat down in Cain's chair. It took all of Dean's willpower to keep himself from frowning. He turned to focus on his computer, and Cas broke the silence. "Perhaps we should rearrange just so you don't have to look at me."

"Huh? What?" Dean replied, shocked by the comment. "Where is that coming from?" Dean held up a finger. "You know what? Nevermind. If you want to rearrange the office, rearrange it. I can do this from one of the computers at the circulation desk." Dean picked up the box of Cain's things off the floor and set them on his chair. "Go to town, Castiel."

Cas looked hurt, but Dean couldn't find a single care to give. "I'm sorry, Dean. I just..."

"Change is good, right?" Dean grabbed his mug and the procurement orders before storming out to the circulation desk.

A short while later, as Dean flipped over to the next page in the list, Jody came up behind him and snatched the packet out of his hands. "This doesn't look like your office, Dean."

"You're very observant today, Jodes." He went to grab it back and was met by Jody's pissed-off-mom face. "What?"

"You said you'd give him a chance." Jody crossed her arms. "You said you'd help him out." She stepped into Dean's bubble and jabbed her finger into his chest. "What happened to that?"

"Oh, hell no, Jodes." Dean made a grab for the papers again, before meeting Jody with his own glare. "This ain't just on me. Not even two seconds in the office, he complained about the size and wanted to start rearranging it. Not my fault if you hired someone with a size kink."

Jody rolled up the list and smacked Dean's shoulder. "Watch it, you." She pulled up a stool and sat down next to Dean. "You can't swallow your pride for two seconds? You need to storm off and do your work out here?"

"Look, I'm not going to lie. I am bitter. We knew that was going to happen. And I thought I could swallow my pride and be the bigger person." Dean shook his head. "There is a such thing as too much change all at once, Jody."

"Fair enough." She handed Dean back his list before running her fingers through his hair and mussing it up. "Finish what you have left and go home, or go to Charlie's. Take a half-day. I'll talk to Castiel."

"And what are you going to say? 'Sorry, Dean's an emotional wreck because you're replacing his ex-boyfriend and we're forcing too many changes on him all at once?'"

Jody nodded. "Something like that."

"Don't you dare." Dean started to stand, but found Jody's hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place.

"It's me, Dean. You know I'm not going to be that blunt about it. Finish that up, and check in with me to let me know you're leaving. When you're gone, I'll talk with Castiel. Okay?"

Dean nodded as he watched Jody walk away, frustrated that he couldn't keep his emotions in check.

…

After he finished the list, Dean stopped by his office - after being admittedly childish and asking for Garth to get Cas out of there - and grabbed his bag and jacket. Slipping out before Cas and Garth could return, he stopped by Jody's office. The door was open, and he knocked on the frame. "I got the orders done. I'm heading out."

"Thank you, Dean. I'll see you tomorrow?" Jody sat up straighter in her seat, a posture that Dean jokingly called her Meerkat Impersonation.

"Yeah, I'll be here. Bright and early. Cause that's how morning birds and people who never went to bed, are." Dean adjusted his bag on his shoulder. "You promise you won't..."

"Bring up Cain?" Jody leaned forward and roasted her chin on her palm. "I make no promises, but I will keep out the fact that you two were an item." She smirked. "Afraid it's going to chase him away?"

"Excuse me?" Dean's mouth twisted into a frown. "Why would I be afraid of that?"

"Go talk to Charlie, Dean. I'll see you around noon tomorrow, okay?" Jody shooed him out of the office, and he walked out the back door to his car.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled in front of Charlie's cafe. Dean kicked himself over the fact that he didn't call or text her, warning about his arrival and crappy attitude. However, as he entered, Charlie was already waiting with a cup of coffee and an apple turnover.

"Hey there, Dean." She gestured to a table towards the back of the shop. As Dean took his seat, she sat the food and coffee down in front of him, taking the chair across the table. "So, rough day at work?"

"How would you know about that?" Dean reached for the coffee and slouched down in his seat. "Garth?"

"Close, but no cigar. Jody called herself." Charlie rested her arms across her chest. Leaning back in her own seat. "Something about too much all at once? Feeling a little overwhelmed?"

Dean couldn't help but nod. "It's only been what? six months since he left?" He switched to shaking his head. "And now I have to erase him from everything."

"So, you take it out on the new guy?" Charlie reached across the table and took Dean's hand into hers. "Dean, no one wants you to forget Cain. No one wanted to see you and Cain end. Hell, Jody fought to make sure neither one of you would be told that you had to go to a different branch."

"Yeah, but now that he's been replaced, everything's changing." Dean frowned, trying to fight back the tears. "The new guy is nice too. I can't actually find anything wrong with him."

"So give him a chance, Dean." Charlie looked up as a chime sounded. She took her hand back and pushed the plate with the turnover closer to Dean. "Hold that thought." She stepped away to deal with whatever she was baking in the back, and Dean took the opportunity to eat his turnover.

As he Dean finished off the last bite, Charlie returned, a muffin in hand. She sat back down and started snacking on it, speaking in between bites. "So, what happened? If he's a nice guy, you wouldn't have found something to hyper-focus on."

"He wanted to rearrange the office." Dean took another sip of his coffee. "I brought him in, he called it cozy, and then said that he had some ideas to give more space."

Charlie leaned forward. "Why would he suggest that out of the blue? Was he nervous and trying to make small talk? Was he maybe trying to make you like him?"

"Dammit, Charlie. Stop playing Devil's Advocate." Dean ran his hand down his face and shook his head. "Maybe?"

"Dean, we've been best friends our whole lives. But sometimes you are the most stubborn asshole I've ever met." Charlie popped the last bite of the muffin into her mouth. "You're pissed off that Cain left you behind. You knew that was always an option. You always knew that if Colette got better and wanted you out of the picture, he would leave." Charlie smiled sadly. "While that's not what happened, you still got five amazing years with Cain. Don't take out your pain on someone who doesn't deserve it."

Dean played with the lid of his empty cup. "Why you gotta be right? Well, mostly right."

"I know Colette said you could come along, but you and I both know why you didn't." Charlie looked over Dean's shoulder and waved before turning her attention back to him. "Mad, angry, sad, disappointed. Whichever word you want, Dean. But the truth is, you're still processing your feelings and taking the negativity out on someone undeserving."

"So, what do you suggest?" Dean frowned. "I mean, I can apologize to Cas, but that's only part of the issue."

"You can also give him a chance." Charlie pushed herself up from the table, walking around and squeezing Dean's shoulder. She stepped back behind the counter and started filling her customer's order.

Dean took that as his opportunity to leave. Between Charlie now and Jody earlier, he knew that he needed to figure out what to do to make things right. He wasn't going to leave the library, Cain wasn't coming back, and there was no reason to chase Cas away. Dean stood up and waved to Charlie. "Put it on my tab, Red. Text me later."

"You better be off to do some soul-searching, handmaiden." Charlie pointed at her eyes then pointed at him, a hopeful smile on her face.

…

The next morning, Dean pulled in behind the parking lot, surprised to see a champagne-colored car parked there as well. Inside was Cas, and Dean realized that he must not have a set of keys yet. Dean hopped out of the Impala and opened the backdoor. Unsurprisingly, Cas was not behind him, and he made sure to prop the door open slightly for Cas to get in when he was ready.

Dean made his way to their office, bracing himself for any changes, but was slightly shocked to find everything in place. He lifted the box of Cain's things off his chair, setting it next to his filing cabinet, and set his bag on top of the box. He looked around, checking for anything out of place when Cas' voice cracked through the room like a whip.

"I like the office the way it is."

Dean stood up straight, clutching his chest and surprised by Cas' stealth abilities. "Jesus, we need to get you a bell or something." At Cas' frown, Dean clarified. "I mean, I never heard you coming, dude. Scared the crap out of me."

"My apologies." Cas looked at the ground and walked over to his desk, taking off his book bag and leaning it against the side before taking a seat. "For that, and our initial meeting yesterday."

"Cas, you have nothing to be sorry for." Dean ran his hand through his hair as he sat down in his own seat. "Maybe if I had been more involved with the search, maybe if I had paid more attention..." He shrugged. "I wasn't ready, I didn't think we'd actually ever get another librarian, and then here you are."

Cas merely nodded as he logged into his computer. After a moment of awkward silence, he spoke up. "Jody said I'm to shadow you until she arrives, then she'll take over, finish up the HR stuff." Cas looked up and met Dean's eyes. "What do you normally do first thing?"

"Coffee." Dean shrugged. "What can I say? I need my caffeine." Remembering their conversation from yesterday, Dean continued. "We also keep some teabags and stuff in there. It's not my preference, but perhaps it'll work for you?"

Cas finally offered a shadow of a smile and stood after Dean did. Together they walked to the breakroom in silence, a semi-peaceful truce between them. Dean opened a cupboard and pointed. "Whatever you need, dude. Go for it." He opened the cabinet next to it, reaching for his coffee crack, and not finding any in reach. "Shit."

"What's wrong, Dean?" Cas held a tin of tea in his hands as he looked over.

"Someone finished the open bag of grounds." Dean stood on tiptoe. "Shit. That was the last bag." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll just call Jodes and see if she'll stop on her way in." Dean reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and started to dial Jody when Cas' hand rested on his and stopped him. "Cas?"

"Jody doesn't come in until eleven. The library doesn't open until eight. I can run to the store and be back before it's open. Then we can pick up with going over what I need to know for the library."

Dean contemplated Cas' offer for a moment. "Cas, I get you're the new guy, but you don't have to do that. I mean, I could probably ask a volunteer to get us a couple of bags until supplies come in."

"And I'm offering to go now. I want to go, and if it gets us back on the right foot with each other, I don't mind." Cas had a soft smile forming on his lips. "Just keep an ear out for me?"

"I've got a better idea." Dean pulled his phone out from under Cas' hand and swiped to his contacts before handing the phone to Cas. "Put your number in." Cas obliged, and Dean instantly shot him a text. "Right foot?"

"Right foot." Cas nodded. "I'll call you when I'm at the door."

Dean stood back and watched as Cas left, taking a moment to try and figure out why he had made things so complicated between them. He shook his head and headed out front to grab books from the dropbox to get started on the morning chores.

…

As he had predicted, Cas was back before eight, calling to be let back in. He had a bag in his hand, and he shooed Dean to finish the last couple of chores and promising that he knew how to work a coffee maker.

Dean felt slightly warm and fuzzy at Cas' offer and willingly accepted it. He finished putting away the rest of the books and refilled the pamphlet wall when Cas came out with two mugs in hand, one filled with tea, the other with coffee.

"Forgive me, I didn't remember you putting anything in it but the two packs of sugar. If you need more..."

Dean took a sip off the coffee and shook his head. "This is great, Cas. Thank you." He nodded to the side with his head. "Come on, I know you know how to be a librarian, but let's get you comfortable working in this branch. Sound like a plan?"

Cas' smile was worth it.

To no surprise, Cas was a quick learner. From what Dean had learned, Cas was top of his class at the University of Illinois, graduating the year ahead of Garth. His knowledge, and how easily he had the Dewey Decimal System memorized, was mind-blowing. It was plain to see why Jody had snatched him up and had probably even fast-tracked him up to her boss for approval.

As nine rolled around, Dean found himself yawning. It was strange, as he had already had his first cup for the day, and that usually held him over until lunch. After making sure that Cas was okay by himself for a moment, Dean went and refilled his coffee. He came back to Daphne - one of their frequent volunteers - flirting with Cas, and Dean chuckled as Cas flustered.

"Daphne, there's a new shipment of romance novels to be put away." Dean walked up next to Cas and tossed his arm around Cas' shoulder. "I know they're your favorite to put away."

Daphne cut a glare at Dean but smiled sweetly at Cas. "He is right. I love a good story about falling in love. Putting them away lets me get to see a title I may have missed." She winked at Cas before going to grab the cart of books Dean referred to.

"Sorry about that, Cas," Dean commented once Daphne was out of earshot. "Figures we get a good looking guy on staff and the ladies go crazy. Don't be surprised if you have a couple of them going gaga over you."

Cas tilted his head. "She wasn't flirting with you."

"She also learned that she doesn't have a chance with me." Dean shrugged before repeating Cas' response in his head. "You think I'm good looking?"

Cas shrugged playfully and walked away to go help a patron who had come up to the counter.

Dean blushed, then found himself yawning again. A cup of coffee at eight, and another one at nine, and he was already contemplating a third. He must have slept worse than he thought. Dean looked over at Cas and smiled before flagging down Becky, asking her to help cover the circulation while he grabbed another cup.

When Jody showed up at eleven, she was beyond pleased with the complete one-eighty Dean had taken in regards to Cas. At least, that was what she had said on the floor. When she pulled Dean back to her office, she couldn't help but laugh.

"You go from not being able to stand in his presence to flirting with him in less than twenty-four hours, Winchester. What's your angle?" She looked over the paperwork that had been left for her.

"I thought about what you and Charlie said." Dean took one of the seats opposite from Jody. "It's not his fault. He's good at his job, he's smart, and I mean," Dean held up his mug. "He got me coffee."

"Ah, yes. The way to your heart. Caffeine." Jody looked at the mug in Dean's hand. "Hitting it early today? You usually wait until lunch."

"Nah, just slept poorly. That happens, you know." Dean took a drink of his coffee. "Question for you."

Jody rolled her eyes. "Wait at least a couple of weeks before asking him on a date, Dean."

"Buh. Wha. Huh?" Dean stumbled over his words, making a cacophony of unintelligible sounds. "Where the hell did you get that from?"

"Am I wrong? You didn't deny flirting with him." Jody signed a piece of paper and looked up at Dean.

"Was I flirting with him? I don't even know what that is anymore." Dean frowned. "I'm gonna go get some work done since you're here now." He stood up and exited Jody's office, heading down to his own. He pulled out the lending list, requests for books from other libraries, and tried to throw himself into his work.

"Dean?" Dean mumbled and stirred, shooting up once he realized he was at his desk. He looked to his side and saw Cas next to him, hand resting on his shoulder. "Dean, are you okay? You were asleep."

"I was?" He looked at the time on his computer and rubbed at his eyes, making sure he saw clearly. It was 12:30. He had lost approximately forty-five minutes. "What the hell?" Dean dragged his hands down his face. "I must have slept worse than I thought."

Cas crossed over to his desk and sat down. "Did you need me to help you catch up?"

"No, I'm good." Dean looked at the list. "I was just doing the IL request. It's not that big of a list. Looks like Garth got yesterday's done."

"Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Jody asked me to answer a few emails in the library's inbox so people can start getting to know me." Cas met Dean's eyes. "You okay with me sticking around a while?"

"I think I could get used to the idea."

...

Over the next few weeks, Dean and Cas settled into a comfortable routine. They worked together, learned about each other, and quickly came to a place where they could comfortably call each other friends. After the first two weeks, they agreed to spend some time outside of work together. There was one problem, though.

Dean couldn't stay awake.

At first, he thought he was coming down with something. He made an appointment with his doctor, who found nothing wrong. The doctor suggested that Dean may be overworked and told him to take an extended weekend and de-stress.

When he returned after his four days off, the staff had been excited to see him, especially Cas, and Dean truly felt rejuvenated. He had been able to sleep in, he splurged on his favorite coffees, and Dean may or may not have spent more time playing video games and watching TV than he'd care to admit.

But only a day back, and Dean already felt like he was drowning. He had gone through four cups of coffee before lunch even hit, and he kept himself moving so he wouldn't fall asleep. On his lunch break, as much as he knew that he was probably going to regret it later, Dean went to go grab himself a fifth cup of coffee.

In the break room, he was disappointed to find the pot empty. However, Dean realized, with as much as he had been drinking, it was nothing to be surprised at. Dean reached up and grabbed the bag of coffee - something labeled Librarian's Delight - and started prepping the newest pot when something caught his eye.

Dean brought the bag close to his face and read the label. Under the fancy font stating that the name of the brew was Librarian's Delight, Dean read two words that terrified him.

Decaf. Coffee.

There was no way he was reading that correctly. Dean ran through the names of the coffee drinkers in the library and confirmed that none of them drank Decaf. He dropped the bag and ran to Jody's office. "JODES!" He slid into the doorway and hit the doorframe before entering her office. She looked up in confusion and surprise. "Jody!"

"Jesus, Dean. What's going on?" Jody stared, slack jaw in surprise.

"DECAF! I've been dying ‘cause that's decaf you've been serving us!" Dean pointed towards the break room. "I need caffeine to function!"

"I don't order the coffee, Dean. I thought you were getting it when you were putting in procurement requests?" Jody shrugged. "I've been drinking tea, so I haven't noticed."

"It's why I've needed a million and two cups, Jodes!" Dean paused. "Wait. If you haven't been getting coffee, how has it been staying stocked up? I haven't ordered any because we haven't run out."

"I can explain that." Cas' voice caused Dean to turn around. A pink blush featured on Cas' cheeks, and he was looking down at the ground. "I've been buying the coffee."

"You?" Dean tilted his head. "Dude, you know I need caffeination, and you bought decaf!?"

Cas looked up and frowned. "It said 'Librarian's Delight,' and I thought it was an apt title. And you really enjoyed the taste. So I kept buying it. I was trying to make things up to you."

"By making things worse?" Dean felt a lump building in his throat and tried to swallow it down. "I figured you were making the coffee every morning, but you were buying it too? Was it so I wouldn't know it was decaf?!"

"No!" Cas barely dodged out of Dean's way as he stormed past.

Dean made his way to his office and grabbed his bag before heading towards the exit. He stopped by Jody's office. "Now that I know what's wrong, I need to go remedy it. I'll be back."

...

Driving down the road, Dean blared the angriest music he had. He knew, honestly he knew, that Cas hadn't meant ill will. But Dean was angry. Unnecessary doctor's bills, using his vacation days? Hell, even being away from the Library had been shit. And it was all because Cas hadn't read the damn bag of coffee before reading it.

Dean found himself pulling into a spot at Charlie's cafe, without realizing it, and walked in.

"What are you doing here, Dean? Aren't you supposed to be working?" Charlie leaned forward on the counter.

"I need your strongest coffee, extra shot." Dean dropped a twenty on the counter and went to the seat in the back corner.

"Dean!" Charlie threw the twenty in the drawer and marked a piece of paper. "Dude, you can't just roll in here, act like a douche, and demand caffeine."

Dean shot her a glare. "Perhaps if I had been getting caffeine for the past, oh, I don't know, month? I wouldn't be a cranky asshole." He slouched in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing that he looked as much the petulant child that he felt. "The reason I've been so exhausted? I've been getting nothing but decaf at the library."

"Don't you order the coffee, Dean?" Charlie brought over the coffee and sat it in front of him. "That sounds like it would be on you."

"Cas bought a bag when we ran out. Then we never ran out. He's been buying the coffee for the past month." Dean held up a finger. "I didn't know it was him until he confessed today."

"So let me get this straight." Charlie glared daggers at Dean. "The guy you've kinda been dating for the past two weeks. The one you have been getting to know for the past month? He's been buying you coffee to make up for something that wasn't even his fault to begin with? And then you're upset because he bought - gods forbid - decaf."

"I..." Dean held up a finger. "Dammit, Charlie. Why you gotta be right?"

Charlie batted her eyelashes and smirked at Dean. "You love it when I'm right."

"This is the second time I've fucked up with him. The first by being angry at him over Cain, now this." Dean ran his hand down his face. "I need to make this up to him."

"Yep, especially this time." Charlie smacked Dean playfully upside the head before walking behind the counter. "I remember you saying that Cas likes tea, right?" She reached up on a shelf and pulled down a bag of grounds and a tin of tea. "This is for you, so you can have your caffeine fix until your next order comes in. The tin is for Cas, from you, saying you're sorry." She shook the tin. "Jasmine, Rose, and Lavender blend."

"That sounds like one hell of a combo." He took the tin and looked for the label. "What's the name of this blend if he wants more?"

Charlie shrugged. "Haven't thought of a name for it. If he wants more, he can come in and request it, or if he mentions that he likes it and you want to get him more, just tell me."

"Charlie..." Dean warned.

"Who just gave you those two items, and isn't putting them on your tab?" She tapped Dean's shoulder. "Come on, get back to work. Go tell your guy you're sorry."

"Not mine." Dean reminded Charlie.

"Not yet." Charlie looked at Dean, then pointed at the door. "Get going, or I'm texting Jody, letting her know you're going to work an extra hour today."

Dean glared but stood up and walked towards the door. "See if I come to the next LARP."

"You wouldn't miss it for the world, handmaiden." Charlie winked, leaning back against her counter as Dean walked out the door and back to his car.

…

Dean arrived back at the library and was relieved to see Cas' car in the parking lot. He slid out of the Impala and let himself into the building, only to be stopped by Jody.

"Surprised to see you came back." She leaned back in the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm guessing you took a pitstop at Manna Brew?"

"Yep, and got logicked and reasoned with yet again by the Harpy of an owner." Dean rolled his eyes. "He in our office?"

Jody nodded. "I told him he could take a half-day, but he insisted on staying. I think he knew you'd come back." She pushed off the doorframe and pointed at Dean. He hung his head, preparing for another chastising. "I haven't seen you this happy since before Cain left." He shot his head up, staring at Jody in confusion. "I know you care about him, and I know he cares about you. But you gotta get over this." She gestured at him as a whole. "Go make things right."

"Weren't you telling me to not go after him?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

Jody nodded. "And that was before. He believes in you." She pointed towards their office. "Go prove he's got his faith in the right place."

"Will do, Jodes." He handed the bag of coffee grounds to Jody. "Put on a pot for me?" Dean started the short walk to his office.

"That's pushing your luck!" Jody called after him, and he couldn't help but chuckle as he turned down the hallway to his and Cas' office.

Dean stopped in front of the closed door and knocked twice. Cas swung the door open, surprise clearly written on his face when he saw Dean standing there. "You knocked? This is our office, Dean."

"Yeah, but you deserve more respect than I've shown you today." Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Am I okay to come in?"

"Of course, Dean." Cas took a step to turn around and crossed back over to his desk. "I wanted to apologize again..."

"No, Cas." Dean shook his head. "You made an honest mistake, and you were being kind and generous, and I blew it out of proportion." Dean followed to Cas' desk and set the tin of tea in front of him. "I'm sorry."

"What's this?" Cas opened the tin and smiled at the loose tea mixture. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent, and looked at Dean. "What is this? It smells amazing."

"Rose, Lavender, and Jasmine." Dean walked around to his side of the desk and sat down. "It's one of Charlie's blends."

A small grin appeared on Cas' face. "I think Charlie's trying to speak for you."

"I mean, the tea is from me to you, to ask for forgiveness." Dean leaned forward on his desk and rested his chin on his knuckles. "Is it working?"

"We just got a new book in," Cas responded. "The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive and Illustrated History" He closed the tin and leaned back in his chair. "REF 302.222."

"That will never cease to amaze me." Dean chuckled. "Why are you bringing this up?"

Cas crossed his legs up on his desk. "Of course, I forgive you, Dean. But there's more of a meaning in the tea than asking for forgiveness. I'm just giving you the means of figuring out that meaning."

"Right." Dean glared skeptically at Cas before pushing himself back up to his feet. He exited their office and beelined it to the 300 section of the library. It was quick work to find the book, considering Cas had given him the exact number he needed, and he pulled the book out before sitting at a nearby table. Dean grabbed a pencil and a piece of scrap paper, writing down the three flowers: Jasmine, Rose, Lavender.

Jasmine: Unconditional and eternal love, monetary wealth Lavender: Happiness, love, devotion, peace Rose: Love??

While Dean was unsure of the color of the roses Charlie used in her tea blend, he considered the fact that the word love was used in the meanings of the other two flowers. From there, it was pretty easy to determine what she was going for. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose before quietly laughing. Both Charlie and Cas surprised him at that moment, and he didn't know whether or not to hate Charlie or love her.

He closed the book and put it back after folding the piece of paper and putting it in his pocket. Dean headed back to his office but stopped when he saw Cas at the circulation desk. He watched Cas, reasonably sure he hadn't been spotted yet and leaned against the stack.

Dean realized over the past month, that he focused less on what he had with Cain, and more on what was blossoming between himself and Cas. And Dean wanted more with Cas. So much more.

After the circulation desk cleared out, Cas looked up and found Dean, his smile broadening across his face. Dean returned the smile and nodded, hoping Cas knew what he meant. When Cas looked down, suddenly shy and blushing, Dean knew what he had to do. He turned around and went back to the book, pulling it out to do his own research.

…

Later that evening, Dean arrived at Cas' apartment. He knocked on the door, just as he had done earlier at the library, but he was ten times more nervous. Dean held a surprise behind his back and laughed when he heard Cas' exclamation when he saw who was outside. "Dean? I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"Am I intruding? Is it not a good time?" Dean frowned. That was one of the things he had been nervous about.

"No, uh, I'm just skyping with my brother." He stepped back and gestured for Dean to enter.

Dean walked in, being oh-so-obvious that he had something hidden behind his back. "I don't want to interrupt."

"Then come say hello." Cas led Dean to the dining room, where his laptop was set up. "Gabe, this is my... coworker-slash-maybe-something-more?" Cas looked at Dean with a small uptick in the corner of his mouth. "Dean, this is Gabe, my brother."

"Nice to meet you, Dean. Be good to my brother, you maybe-something-more, or I'll grab the first flight out and bust out your kneecaps." He looked at Cas. "I'll let you two crazy kids be. Same time next week?"

Cas nodded. "Night, Gabe." He closed the laptop and looked at Dean. "So, to what do I owe this honor?"

"Well, we started a conversation in our office earlier, but we didn't really get to finish it." Dean pulled a bouquet out from behind his back. "This one is all me, Cas."

"Aster: patience and love. Heather: admiration and wanting a wish to come true. Daffodil, for new beginnings." Cas smiled and gently ran his finger along the trumpet of the Daffodil. "Yes, Dean. I'll make your dreams come true." Cas ran his hand behind Dean's neck and pulled him in for the first of many soft, sweet kisses

[mylittleshipgoestoot]

That’s What Makes You Beautiful

by mylittleshipgoestoot (Explicit)

Pre-Debate nerves turn an innocent trip to the bathroom into their first time together without Astrid.

Astrid narrows her eyes at her supposed boyfriend, who’s got full-blown heart eyes for his opponent, whose none other than her nemesis, Payton Hobart.  Sure, she’d agreed to their little triangle arrangement, but only for fear of losing River altogether.

There’s something about those dimples, and that little smirk River gives him as he clutches the microphone, and brings it up to his lips.  She can’t quite put her finger on it, but it bugs her.

Little does she know that the smirk isn’t what it seems at all.  River is trying to compose himself as Payton purposely imitates an intimate moment they’d had less than an hour ago.

Explicit Content under the cut - AO3 Link

Payton strides into the backstage bathroom like he owns the place.  He’s nervous on the inside, and there's no sign of his opponent yet.  Even though it sounds ridiculous, seeing River would calm his nerves somewhat.  He critiques his appearance in the mirror. Usually, he’d be confident about it, but today he’s going to be standing next to a Ralph Lauren model on stage.  He pulls a face and starts tapping his foot nervously, knowing that he has to be about god damned perfect to win this debate: not a foot wrong, no buckling under the pressure of it all.

“Payton?”  River would know that nervous foot tap anywhere.

Payton eyes the end stall with the closed door, in the mirror, curiously.

“Pre-debate nerves?”  Payton offers, pointlessly walking toward the stall.  Theirs a weird sort of breath pattern going on in there, and the idiotic part of Payton’s brain wonders if maybe River’s sobbing quietly, obviously overcome by his political opponent.

“Ahhh, ah more like a pre-debate wank,” River replies, raising the volume of his ministrations, allowing Payton to hear him.

Payton’s shell-shocked and his body is very interested, he’s also grappling with how much he wants to see precisely what River’s doing, but at the same time, now is not the time nor place for this.  Imagine the scandal?

“Payton?”  River stops his actions momentarily, and Payton watches as the vacant sign appears and the door swings open.

Well, fuck.  Think about the best porn you’ve ever seen, well, this shits all over that.  River is fucking magnificent. Shirt hanging open, trousers bunched around his ankles, long wicked fingers wrapped around his beautiful cock, and a gorgeous, yet mischievous grin on his face.

“Wanna help a fellow candidate out?”

Payton doesn’t answer, his feet just start walking toward him as if in a trance, and he doesn’t come back to himself until he hears the lock turn again.  He’s sitting down, staring right at River’s perfect dick. He adjusts himself and coughs nervously.

“Er, should we be doing this?”  His voice is embarrassingly high-pitched, and he kicks himself for being so uncool when River appears so confident.

River squats down so he can look him in the eye, and says gently, ”Payton, if you’re not comfortable with-“

“What?  No, I’m comfortable with blow jobs, I just thought we didn’t do ‘this’ without Astrid?”  He’s babbling, offering blow jobs, why does he have zero game, it’s so unfair.

River chuckles lightly.  “Blow job, hey? I just invited you in so I could look at you because it’ll make me come faster.”

Payton doesn't have a response to that, and he should if he wants to be the president one day, but he's not fucking perfect, okay!

River leans in and kisses him, soft and leisurely, like they're not going head to head on stage in under fifteen minutes.  Payton feels drunk on it, sucking on River’s tongue as he runs his hands down over those perfect pecs. Time could genuinely run away on them in here, and it's only when they hear the P.A system announce the debate that they realise they need to get on with it.

River straightens back up and looks down as he runs his thumb across Payton’s swollen red lips.  He moans when Payton sucks on it playfully. He gently pushes his other fingers into Payton’s mouth, covering them with saliva, then wraps them around his dick.

The thing is, Payton’s never actually given anyone a blow job, and River hasn't pressured him at all, but with River pleasuring himself right in front of his face, he can't think of a better time to give it a crack.

Start small, he thinks, hand coming up to caress River’s balls.  He thinks he's doing okay, considering River’s full-body shudder, but he looks up to make sure River’s on board with it anyway.

Should anyone ever have the full attention of River Barkley, as Payton does right now, thank your lucky fucking stars.  River’s eyes are blown wide open, filled with love, and his jaw is utterly slack.

”Gently tug, ” River directs, voice rough and breathy.

Payton doesn't need telling twice; he’s always been very accommodating like that.  He stops playing and gives a gentle tug, one finger accidentally brushing past River’s entrance.

”Shit,” River chokes out, jerking himself more frantically.

Pleased with the response, Payton is spurred on to be more adventurous.  He waits until River is on a downstroke to lick the head of his cock, tongue dancing over it, tasting the salty essence of him.

River moans low in his throat, watching as Payton repeats the action.  ”God, Payton, you look-” River will never be done staring into those big Disney eyes.

Payton beams at the praise.  In all his very short life, no-one had ever made him believe he was worthy, and then he met River.  He would do anything for this man.

Feeling more confident, he places a hand over River’s, following the motion for a few strokes, before taking River into his grasp.  

This is power; he thinks to himself.  Making River bite his lip like that, being the reason for those breathy gasps, this shits all over school president.

Unhurriedly, Payton starts to explore again.  He takes the head of River’s cock into his mouth and swirls his tongue over it slowly.  River groans above him, and a hand comes to rest gently at the base of his skull.

Payton opens his mouth, allowing River to control the pace of his cock, as it slides over his lips and tongue and toward the back of his throat.  It feels so intimate. River is staring down at him adoringly, and nothing else in the world even exists. He closes his eyes, mind going blank and loses himself in the feeling.

Hours could have passed but in reality, its only seconds before River tells him he’s close.

It pulls Payton out of his blissful haze.  As the noise from the auditorium filters back in, something snaps in him, and it gives him purpose.  He wants to blow River’s mind, wants to rid him of his thoughts and troubles for a moment too.  

He slides his mouth as far down the length of River’s cock as he can go without choking, his lips making it to his fingers around the base, then sucks as hard as he can as his lips slide back up again.

River’s knees buckle, and he’s forced to support himself with a hand against the wall.  ”God, ” he says, feeling his self-control slipping as Payton continues blowing him with those beautiful pouty lips.  It feels incredible, freeing, and like he never wants it to end.  

Payton moans as he sucks him down again, the sound of it sends shivers up his spine.  Another moan and River is losing it, his hand tightening in Payton’s hair, as the other lands with an emphatic slap against the wall, “Ohhhhh,” he groans, stiffening and spilling into Payton’s waiting mouth.  River gasps for breath, and takes in Peyton sucking and swallowing down his load, ”Payton, Jesus, ” River manages through an aftershock. He’s stunned, completely blind-sided by how good this could be with the right person.  It hadn't felt anywhere near this good with any of his previous partners.

Peyton let's go of him, reaching for the paper to dab delicately at the corners of his mouth, and clears his throat nervously.  River re-dresses, and curses when he checks his watch.

”Three minutes, ” he says, unlocking the stall door and motioning that Payton goes first.

They wash up together.  Payton sets about straightening up his ensemble, as a set of arms wrap around him from behind, and River grins that wide, warm smile at him in the mirror.

”You look great in pinstripes, and you’re going to be amazing out there.”

Payton looks at the bathroom floor, still not used to so much praise.

”God, ” River says, tilting Payton’s chin back up from the ground, ”You don't know how beautiful you are, do you?”

”Only you think that.”

Payton turns in his arms, and River kisses him gently.  They take a step back from each other, and Payton holds out his hand for River to shake.  River tries not to laugh but shakes the hand regardless.

”May the best man win!”  Payton is all business now, he gives River a comical wave and turns to leave.

”You still going to tell everyone we had sex if I win?” River calls after him.

”Affirmative.” Peyton retorts, and the door shuts behind him, leaving River starting at his grinning reflection in the mirror.  He knows it's the truth too. The man he’s in love with is occasionally hysterical, driven, truthful, and a born leader that will stop at nothing to see his dreams come true.

The end.  Thanks for reading.  AO3

[junghelioseok]

change. | epilogue

↳ a kind, handsome stranger makes you question your deteriorating relationship.

◇ taehyung x reader | jungkook x reader ◇ angst | fluff | smut ◇ 3.7k [10/10]

notes: at long last, this story is finally over! thank you so much for putting up with my sporadic updates and sticking with me for so long! ♡

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | epilogue ✓

One year later -

It takes exactly twenty-two minutes to drive downtown from your apartment on a day with traffic. You know this fact well, for it’s a trip you’ve taken many times, but the man whose lap you are seated on doesn’t seem to understand the sense of urgency at all. “Tae, we’re going to be late!” you insist, prying uselessly at the hands curled around your hips. “It takes twenty-two minutes to get downtown!”

“Good thing it’s only nine-thirty then,” Taehyung croons, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear. “And that means we still have eight minutes to do whatever we want.”

You dissolve into laughter when he pokes at your sides playfully. “Tae, come on.”

Your boyfriend relents with a chuckle, releasing you from his embrace and standing up when you tug on his hand. He watches with hooded eyes as you fuss with his tie—straightening the silver pin and adjusting the knot until it sits neatly at his throat—and once you’re satisfied with the result, he grabs your hand again and laces your fingers together. You check your purse one last time while Taehyung pats down his pockets for his belongings, and once you’re both sure that you have everything you’ll need, you bid Yeontan goodbye and step out the front door. Taehyung locks up while you call the elevator, and together, the two of you descend to the parking garage where Taehyung’s sleek silvery car is parked.

The drive downtown passes in comfortable silence, broken only by the soft jazz filtering through the speakers. Your route takes you past the business district, steely gray skyscrapers rising up outside your window as Taehyung stops at a red light. One building stands out in particular—a monochrome glass high-rise that you immediately recognize.

It’s Jungkook’s office. You’ve visited the building many times in the past, and even now you occasionally walk by on your way to and from work. It took some time for the you and Jungkook to heal after your breakup—however mutual it may have been—but after several long months the two of you finally settled into a comfortable, casual friendship. You’ve even gotten coffee a few times, but as of late you haven’t been hearing from him very often. And when you stumbled across him while waiting to cross a busy downtown street last Thursday, you finally found out why.

He’s seeing someone new. You’d spotted him sitting in a cozy little cafe at noon, the large glass windows opened up to let in fresh air, and that alone is enough to have you stopping dead in your tracks. For as long as you’ve known him, Jeon Jungkook has been a workaholic—a man who, on the rare occasion that he actually ate lunch, ate at his desk with his laptop still up and running. So when you see him out—and with a young woman sitting in the chair across from him, nonetheless—joy bubbles up in your chest. Even from your spot across the street, you can see how enamored he is with his companion. It’s clear from the relaxed set of his shoulders and the sparkle in his eyes, and when she says something amusing, you can practically hear him cackle in delight.

Maybe it’s the wail of a passing ambulance or a particularly strong gust of wind, but he suddenly looks up, his gaze locking with yours. For a long moment, the two of you stare at each other silently, before Jungkook cracks a smile and waves a hand in greeting. You wave back.

Then he’s turning back to his new girlfriend, another grin creasing his expression as he says something to her. You cross the street with a smile on your lips, and when you finally reach the restaurant that Taehyung is waiting for you at, you tell him all about what you’d seen.

“I’m happy for him,” Taehyung said.

“Me too,” you replied.

And that was that.

Back in the present, the light turns green, and you settle comfortably into your seat as the car begins gliding forward once more. Reaching across the center console, you place a hand on Taehyung’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze and grinning when the corners of his mouth curve up into a playful smile. One hand leaves the steering wheel to settle atop yours, and you relish the warm, comfortable weight of his palm as he makes the final turn toward your destination. Directing your attention to the window again, you watch as the stately columns of the hotel come into view. Namjoon is standing on the steps chatting with his best man, Jackson, and waves when he spots your car slowing to a gradual stop.

“Hey!” Namjoon calls once you’ve opened the door and exited the vehicle. “How was the drive down?”

“Not bad,” you reply, admiring the silky white shirt he’s wearing. The tall man is wearing an entirely white suit, a slender pink tie knitted loosely around his neck. His ashen hair is swept off his forehead, and you give him an approving thumbs-up before turning toward Jackson. “You’re here early, Jackson.”

Jackson brushes a stray lock of dark hair off his forehead. “Nah, I only got here ten minutes ago. Wanted to check on the flower delivery.”

You nod. As best man and maid of honor, you and Jackson have spent the past several months organizing and planning for the wedding. Thankfully, Namjoon and Jin had opted for a simple ceremony, but that hasn’t stopped you from checking and double-checking every detail. “And the photographer?”

“Already inside,” Jackson replies, jabbing a thumb toward the door. “He’s setting up now.”

“And I’ve got backup,” Taehyung pipes up, cheerfully hefting his camera bag.

Namjoon watches the entire exchange with a soft smile, dimples creasing his cheeks. “You guys are the best,” he says. “Really. I can’t even begin to imagine what we would’ve done without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” you reply, grinning up at him. “Am I allowed to hug you? Or will that ruin your suit?”

Namjoon laughs and opens up his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous—if anyone’s ruining my suit, it’ll be me. Bring it in.”

Giggling, you step into his embrace, looping your arms around his waist. Vaguely, you are aware of Taehyung stepping up beside you to engage Jackson in conversation, but all you can focus on is Namjoon—sweet, wonderful Namjoon, a man you love dearly and a man who, in a matter of hours, will be marrying your best friend. And speaking of your best friend—

“Where is he?” you ask, pulling back from the hug.

“Inside,” Namjoon replies, nodding at the entrance of the hotel. “Insists that we should minimize our interactions lest we get cursed—you know how Jin is. He’s in the third room on the left. You can’t miss it.”

You nod and reach up to smooth down the rumpled lapels of his shirt and straighten his pink tie. “Thanks Joonie,” you murmur ardently, sentiment bubbling up in your chest at the thought of him walking down the aisle. “I’ll see you in a few, yeah?”

Namjoon’s eyes are glistening, though he quickly blinks a few times to dispel the moisture. “Yeah. Now get your butt in there. My fiancé—” He pauses, then continues again, a soft smile settling across his features. “My husband. My idiotic, soon-to-be husband. He needs his maid of honor.”

///

“I swear to god, Kim Seokjin, if you don’t stay still for the next thirty seconds, I will strap you to this damn chair.”

“Kinky,” Jin mumbles under his breath. Still, he stops fidgeting long enough for you to knot the slender pink tie around his neck and adjust it until it lays flat at the base of this throat. “Well? How do I look?”

You appraise him carefully, giving his tie one final pat. “So handsome, I almost wish I were marrying you myself.”

That earns you a laugh. “You wish,” Jin retorts, the crease in his brow smoothing out at last as you step aside so he can see himself in the mirror. You turn around to admire his reflection as well, grinning and poking his cheek gently when he remains unmoving a moment too long.

“Good?”

Jin hums absentmindedly, stroking the silky pink material of his tie before beginning to fidget with the lapels of his black jacket. His fingers are shaky, and you reach out to help when his pinky catches on one of the buttons and nearly pulls it off its threads.

“Nerves getting to you?” you ask as you readjust his collar. “Or is it excitement?”

“Both,” Jin admits with a chuckle. “Definitely both. Honestly, I kind of feel like I’m going to piss myself.”

You snort. “Charming. Truly. Joonie’s a lucky guy.”

Jin laughs with you, his shoulders quaking with amusement. “I’m the lucky one,” he says once he’s caught his breath again, wandering over to the window to look out over the sprawling courtyard with its stone fountains and neatly-trimmed trees. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” Then he turns to you, eyes soft. “Especially when I’ve got a friend like you. I love you, you know. I probably don’t say it enough, but I do.”

“I love you too, Jinnie.” Joining your best friend at the window, you lean your head on his shoulder gently so as not to rumple his suit. And there, the two of you stay, finding comfort in the hushed quiet of the room and bright futures that lie ahead.

///

Five minutes before the ceremony is set to begin, you finally find your way to the front row seat reserved for you. Taehyung is already seated when you arrive, and greets you with a boxy smile and a thumbs-up as you plop down onto the cushioned chair. “All good?”

“All good,” you confirm, relaxing back into your seat and sliding your hand into his. Off to the left, you spot Yoongi seated at the grand piano, foot tapping idly as he waits for his cue to begin. Two minutes. One. With thirty seconds left, Yoongi strikes the opening chord, the string quartet seated behind him joining into the main melody seamlessly. And then the double doors open.

Namjoon walks in first. His parents are on either side of him, his mother holding tightly onto his hand, and your lips tug up automatically when he flashes her a dimpled grin. He looks sharp in his fitted white suit, cutting a striking figure as he strides toward the end of the aisle. Once there, he kisses both of his parents on the cheek, hugging his mother one final time before ascending the steps to where the officiant waits. The music dips—fades briefly—and then swells into a soaring melody that echoes through the hall as the doors open once more.

The entire room seems to stop breathing when Jin enters. Blindly, you clutch at Taehyung’s hand, squeezing it tight as you watch your best friend walk down the aisle toward the man he loves. Even from your spot in the front row, you can see the tremble in his lower lip, and when he hugs his parents and finally steps up to join a waiting Namjoon, his face splits into a brilliant, breathtaking grin. Hi, you see him mouth.

Hi yourself, Namjoon mouths back, unable to contain a dimpled smile.

And with that, the ceremony begins—but you barely hear the words leaving the officiant’s mouth. You’re focused purely on Namjoon and Seokjin—holding back tears when you see Namjoon reach up to swipe at his eyes and Jin beginning to blink rapidly, his ears flushing pink. It’s only when Taehyung suddenly squeezes your hand that you snap back to attention, hearing the words being uttered for the first time.

“Sometimes, you just know,” the officiant is saying, glancing between Namjoon and Seokjin with a warm smile. “Sometimes, you meet someone and you just know that they’re the one. The one you want by your side for the rest of your days, sharing in all that life has to offer. Namjoon and Seokjin—they’ve found that in each other. And today, at long last, we are gathered here to celebrate their union.”

Taehyung’s fingers lace with yours as the ceremony continues. Vows are read, and rings are exchanged. Tears are shed, and you curse silently when you open up your purse to discover that you’ve run out of tissues. “Well, I guess something had to slip through the cracks,” you remark to Taehyung as the two of you head downstairs for the dinner and reception. “So what if I’m missing tissues? I’d call this a win.”

“Absolutely,” Taehyung agrees, his palm meeting the small of your back as he guides you to your assigned table. “A resounding victory—honestly, you need to give yourself more credit. You and Jackson did an amazing job pulling this together.”

You beam, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. Your boyfriend eagerly accepts the affection, mouth curling into a wide smile before he playfully turns to find your lips with his own. The kiss is short and sweet, and both of you are still grinning by the time you pull apart again to take a seat at the main table beside Jackson and his date, along with both Namjoon’s and Jin’s parents.

Three courses and several drinks later, the music begins. Space is cleared for dancing, and everyone’s eyes fall upon the newlywed couple as they take to the floor for their first dance—a slow, soothing number that proves easy to get lost in. Namjoon and Jin look as if they’re in their own little world, soft smiles and even softer words exchanged as they sway back and forth in each others’ arms. They continue even after the last notes of the melody fade out, and it’s only when the music morphs into something more upbeat that they break apart and gesture for everyone to join them on the dance floor.

“Let’s get this party started!” Jackson exclaims from his spot on your right, bouncing to his feet. He and his date disappear among the other couples, and after a moment’s hesitation, you allow Taehyung to pull you out of chair and join them.

“I haven’t danced in ages,” you admit as Taehyung grips the curve of your waist. His other hand wraps protectively around your smaller one, and you squeak in surprise when he pulls you flush against his chest.

“Me neither,” Taehyung murmurs, warm breath ghosting across your neck and sending shivers down your spine. “But who cares about that? Let’s just have fun with it.”

So you do. Song after song, dance after dance, you and Taehyung do whatever strikes your fancy—sometimes whirling about in a frenzy, other times swooping along in a dramatic waltz. At one point, Taehyung tries to get you to dance on his feet—something you have to laughingly talk him out of, citing the problem your high heels would pose.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, collapsing into the nearest chair after a particularly sprightly song. “My feet are killing me.”

Taehyung sits down beside you, still grinning from ear-to-ear, and grabs a pitcher from the center of the table to pour you a glass of water. You accept it gratefully, taking a long sip as he pours another for himself. “You could always take off your shoes,” he suggests after he’s downed half the glass.

“Sounds dangerous,” you remark. “I’m about ninety-nine percent sure I heard Namjoon break a plate during dinner. Who knows if that’s been cleaned up? What if I step on it?”

“Fair point,” Taehyung relents with a chuckle. “Why don’t we just get some air instead? I could use a break too, and the courtyard looks nice.”

The promise of lush green grass and a reprieve from the crowded dance floor has you back on your feet immediately, your hand naturally finding its way back into Taehyung’s as the two of you meander through the throng of people and out into the balmy evening air. A few stars twinkle in the dark sky, visible in spite of the city lights, and you tilt your head back to admire the view with a sigh, letting your heels slip off your feet so that you can feel the grass between your toes. Off to your left, a fountain splashes merrily, the veined marble structure illuminated by soft spotlights that turn the water into rippling streams of gold.

Tugging on Taehyung’s hand, you lead him toward the fountain, intent on dipping your toes into the shallow pool. The rim forms a makeshift bench around the circular perimeter, so your boyfriend takes a seat as you carefully lift your skirt and step into the pool. He runs a hand through the nearest jet of water, unintentionally sending a spray of cool water in your direction, and you let out a surprised shriek when it makes contact.

Immediately, Taehyung is pulling back his hand, eyes wide. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry—are you okay?”

You can’t help but giggle at his alarmed expression, wading through the ankle-deep water to plop down beside him on the edge of the fountain. “It’s just water, Tae. I’m fine, promise.”

“What about your dress?” he asks, brushing a finger along the satiny material. “Won’t it be ruined?”

You shrug. “A little water won’t hurt it.” Leaning back on your hands, you kick your feet gently, sending growing ripples across the pool. “I am getting a little chilly though. Water’s cooler than I thought it’d be.”

Taehyung hums and shrugs off his jacket. “Here,” he murmurs, placing it delicately around your frame. You thank him with a smile, snuggling into the soft fabric—still warm from his residual body heat—and leaning against his shoulder. His arm comes up to wrap around your waist, and for a few long moments you simply sit there, enjoying the splashing water and the light breeze rustling through the trees. His fingers draw nonsensical patterns along your shoulders and arm, his touch gentle and soothing, and it’s only when he suddenly stiffens that you are pulled out of your reverie.

“Tae?” you ask, straightening up so you can see his face. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” Taehyung stammers, blinking rapidly. “I… it’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

But you know it’s not nothing, and you certainly don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to the jacket you’re wearing. And now that you’re paying attention, you are suddenly very aware of a slight lump in the inside pocket, pressed just below your rapidly thumping heart.

“Tae,” you repeat, no louder than a whisper that nearly gets carried away on the breeze. “Is this... is this what I think it is?”

Instead of answering, Taehyung releases a heavy breath and slaps a hand over his eyes. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen,” he mumbles, lower lip jutting out into a slight pout. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“No!” you hasten to reassure him, sliding off the jacket and pressing it into his hands. “I’ll pretend I didn’t notice anything. What? Nothing to see here. This thing in your pocket? Just your wallet, as far as I’m concerned.”

He huffs out a soft chuckle. “My wallet’s in my other pocket—you know that as well as I do. Besides, what’s the use in hiding it now? The proverbial cat’s out of the bag.”

And then before you can speak again—before you can even blink—Taehyung is suddenly turning, dropping down to one knee on the soft grassy ground. “Tae,” you breathe. Your heart skips a beat.

Taehyung smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he reaches into his pocket. When he retracts his hand, a delicate velveteen box is cradled in his palm. The lid flips open to reveal the ring within—a single deep purple amethyst bordered by diamonds and set in silver, and even though you’d suspected as much, you still let out a tiny, breathy gasp that has Taehyung chuckling. “{Name},” he begins, his voice soft and tender. “I wasn’t planning to ask you this tonight, especially considering where we are. But I guess we wouldn’t be us if the timing wasn’t a little off, right?” He pauses to clear his throat, and you reach out to take his free hand, your chest swelling with unspoken emotion.

“I love you,” he continues. “I’ve loved you for a long time, and I know I’ll continue loving you for as long as I live. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met—you’re smart and kind and beautiful, and I’ve never been happier than I am in this moment. And there’s nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. So {Name}, darling—will you marry me?”

There are a million thoughts floating around your head—half-formed and jumbled and more or less incoherent. You want to tell him how wonderful he is and how happy he makes you, and how you want nothing more than to start a family and grow old with him. But those words escape you right now, swept away by the delirious wave of joy that’s spreading through your veins. “Yes,” you whisper, unable to say anything else. “Oh my god, yes.”

If you thought Taehyung’s smile couldn’t possibly get any wider, you are proven wrong. In an instant, he’s slipped the ring onto your finger, clasping your hands tightly as he straightens up and pulls you in for a searing kiss. The sound of the fountain fades into the background, as does the muffled music still emanating from the wedding reception. Taehyung is all you can feel and all you can taste—his mouth moving ardently against yours, his fingers curling around your hips to pull you close. Nothing has ever felt more right.

“I love you,” you breathe against his parted lips. “I love you so, so much.”

The rest of your thoughts can wait.

[lightskinrry]

Lucky.

the one where you realize being in love with your best friend sucks and movie night isn’t as sweet as usual (part three of Pivot)

A/N: well i don’t know if there’s going to be more but here she is; part three of Pivot…

Word Count: 4k

TW: angst??? fluff??? it’s a mess honestly

thank you to my darling @belladonna-styles for reading it over!

Read Part One! Read Part Two!

If it wasn’t for the dance, you wouldn’t be asking yourself why being Harry’s friend wasn’t enough.

You wished it was. You wished you didn’t need more. You wished you didn’t wonder about the taste of his lips or about feeling his fingertips. You wished you hadn’t felt like this when his hand brushed the back of your neck. When his breath touched your skin. When his voice whispered in your ear. You never felt this way about him. So why did you have to feel like this, now?

You knew it would only bring hurt. You didn’t have a chance with him. You’re his friend. Moreover, you’re his best friend. And if that hurt, you couldn’t even imagine how much it would kill you to lose him. How much you’d cry the moment he’d tell you he don’t feel this way about you. You tried to convince yourself it was a night crush. Nothing more.

But over the course of the last few months, you found yourself missing him more than ever. You kept wanting to touch him. To kiss him. To love him. The feeling took over your whole body. You felt a wave of heat every time he looked at you, a boiling sensation in the pit of your stomach every time his hands landed on your body. You’d squeeze your thighs when he would curse under his breath when you two played scrabble and you’d win. Although, you let him win lately. Just so you could see his dimples pop out as he made his victory dance.

Every minute you’d spend with him felt sweeter but, god, did it hurt. It was like flying in the air, velvet kisses and silk but then you’d be stabbed in the heart every time reality struck you. You were his friend. Not the one he’d wake up in the morning next to. Not the one he’d kiss on the lips. Not the one he wants to see before he falls asleep. Not the one he loves. At least, not the one he loves like this.

The worst part of all was that you knew you either had to get over yourself and stop thinking about him or your friendship would be ruined.

You decided it was better for the both of you to spend some time apart. So you wouldn’t see him and wouldn’t feel him. You tried not to answer his texts and avoid his calls as much as you could. You would text him that you were too busy to talk and would stop answering from there. It hurt. Knowing he was probably worrying over you but you needed that time apart to reevaluate your feelings and kill them before they’d kill your friendship.

You left for the weekend; spending some time at your parents’ place. You didn’t tell Harry a word about leaving. You just went to get some time alone with your family.

You were sitting in the den at your mama’s, watching some cartoons on the tv. You knew you had to leave for London tomorrow. It was your last night there so your mom cooked a whole meal and bought you some ice cream. And now you were just waiting patiently for sleep to kick in. Your phone was charging next to you. You heard it vibrate and swallowed the spoonful of ice cream you had in hand before grabbing it.

Bambi sent a message

Milkie?

You looked at your phone and put it away as you didn’t want to indulge into a conversation with him. You still felt some way about Harry and you hoped it would soon be gone. Your phone rang again. You hesitated for a moment and picked it up.

Bambi sent a message

I’m worried about you. Please just answer me. Tell me you’re okay. Is everything okay? Is it something I’ve done? I’ve talked to Mila she said you were at your parents. I didn’t know you left. I hope you’re good. It’s just… I miss you. Answer me please.

You felt a pinch in your heart when you read his text. You could almost hear the pain in his voice. You knew he meant it. It was just so hard for you. Being far away from him was hard but being near him was even harder. You had to watch him being the most wonderful person, being the only person you want but can’t have. And that shit hurt so much. Loving him was hard enough that you had to put him through pain so you decided to answer.

I’m okay. Sorry I’ve been busy af lately

Wassup Bambi?

Your answer wasn’t as heartfelt as his message but you couldn’t allow yourself to go for more. A few moments later, you felt your phone vibrate again.

Bambi sent a message

Ok… Can I call you?

You felt your blood rush through your veins. It’s been weeks since you last heard his voice. Your heart begged you to take the call. You gave in and typed your answer.

Sure

Next thing you knew your phone was ringing between your hands. You picked up and heard Harry’s little voice through the phone. You missed it. You missed him actually. You talked for hours. He stayed on the phone with you until 3 in the morning. You told him about your family, work, everything except your feelings for him. He caught up on every little thing he missed over the last weeks. And you did too. At a price. He told you about that guy he met. They went on a date and he likes him. He’s planning on seeing him again. It was rather painful hearing him gush about somebody else. But maybe it would help you get over your feelings for him.

“I’m kinda paranoid… We’ve been out a few times… Casual. But yeah, I like him. I’m kinda hoping it will go somewhere. He showed interest but how do you really know? Boys are so cryptid.”

You laughed at his last words. Genuinely it was something that you knew by heart.

“Yeah, you guys are messed up. You can’t never really know. But I’d say go for it. What do you have to lose?”

In that situation, he had nothing to lose. He could just go and tell him how he felt. You wished you could free yourself like this. Just tell him how you felt. But there was something so important at stake there. You just couldn’t.

“You’re right, Milkie. We’re messed up. Not too keen on communication. At least, I’m trying on that. I guess I could tell him but I don’t want to scare him away. I’ll think about it. I’ll let you know how the date goes.”

“Sure, Bambi. I’m glad I could help.”

“When are you coming back?”

Should you tell him the truth and plan to see him on Monday so you will have to go under the torture of hearing him tell you about his crush live?

“Next week. I don’t know… I’m… I’ll see.”

You heard him hum through the phone. You could tell he was skeptical regarding your answer.

“You’re not working this week?”

Fuck. You didn’t think everything through. You do work next week. You’re a terrible liar… And a terrible friend, for what it’s worth.

“Ah.. yes. Well, I don’t know yet. I mean… I might call in sick… or something.”

“You suck at lying.”

His tone was dry. He hates lies. Especially coming from you. He found out that he could trust you with anything and you could trust him too, so why would you have to lie?

“Yeah, I know.”

“What’s going on, Y/N?”

“Nothing. Just going through some personal shit.”

“You’ve been bloody distant, avoiding my calls, not answering my texts, pushing away every proposition to see each other and now you’re lying to me about coming back to London. I hate this.”

“Look, Harry, it’s okay. I just have to figure some shit out and then everything will be back to normal. I have to go. Good night.”

You hung up quickly, before he could say anything. You tucked yourself in bed and spent the night overthinking. You needed to be over with this. You had to. You needed to woman up and stop being so immature or you would lose your best friend.

Fuck the pain of rejection, and hearing him say he doesn’t love you like this. You need to tell him so you can move on. It’s the only way. If he tells you, right to your face, that he’s not in love with you then you’d get over it. So if that’s what it takes, you would just face him. You fell asleep trying to picture how the conversation would go and every time you’d break down…

When you woke up in the morning, you expected to see a few texts from Harry but when you checked your phone, nothing. You felt a pinch in your heart. He was probably mad at you. You’ve been ignoring him, you lied to him, then pushed him away and hung up on him. You’ve been a terrible friend. You needed to apologize. Harry has never been nothing but amazing to you. He didn’t deserve to be treated this way because you can’t control your feelings. You started typing something on your phone but stopped yourself. It would be better to apologize face to face.

You packed your clothes and had breakfast with your family. You kissed your ma goodbye and headed to the train station.

***

It was already Wednesday and you still had no news from Harry. You felt so guilty. You sent him a text asking him when he was free so you could see each other and he didn’t answer yet. You sent it on Monday. You decided to try your luck again and called him yesterday. Still no answer. You were worried about him and about your friendship. You just hated yourself that you messed up one of the best relationships you ever had. You tried to get him out of your mind. So you went out for a walk.

You didn’t work on Wednesday afternoons, so you strolled around the busy streets of London, picked up a bagel and went to eat it on a bench in Hyde Park. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and typed in a message for Harry.

Hey Bambi… I’m eating a bagel in Hyde Park I’ll be there until 4 if you want to stop by. I’ll be at the old bench by the pond

the ducks are missing u (i am too)

An hour passed and you still had no answer. You pulled your phone every two seconds checking for a notification and nothing… It was almost 4. Maybe you truly ruined it. You scrolled a last time through Instagram, your eyes focusing on the images streaming down your screen. You felt someone sit beside you. You didn’t look up but you saw the shoes of the person sitting next to you. You felt warmer and safer. You unconsciously smiled.

“Hey.”

You raised your head to look at him. He was wearing a black hoodie, a pink beanie and sunglasses. Camouflage required in the middle of London.

“Hey.” Your voice was soft. You didn’t look at him, you felt so guilty.

“So… How’s that bagel?”

You knew he was just beating around the bush, being his usual self and avoiding confrontation. But he came, that meant that he wanted to break things down.

“Nice. It’s… Nice.” You breathed a second. “How are you?”

He pinched his lips and raised his eyebrows, faking a reflection. “Well my best friend ignored me for weeks, lied to me about coming back in London and then acted like nothing happened by sending me a bunch of memes.” He looked at you. “So I guess I could be better. What about you?”

You looked down in shame. You’ve been a fucked up friend, for sure.

“I… I’m sorry, Harry. It’s just-” You looked in his eyes and you felt the wave of heat taking over your body. You hated this feeling so much. His stare set you on fire. You just wanted to kiss him sorry. To melt between his fingertips. You tried to gain some composure. “It’s just… I’m going through a weird phase and I don’t really know how to deal with it. I’m sorry I ignored you. I just needed to be alone.”

His glare intensified. You stammered a little bit before keeping up with your apology.

“And..uh… I…. I’m… I’m sorry I lied about coming back. I just… I didn’t really know.. I don’t really know, actually.. Why I did that. I’m a dumbass.”

You heard a giggle fall from his lips and the tension you felt in the back of your neck eased.

“Yeah, you are.”

You turned your head to him and smiled. “I know.” You pinched your lips before a pout appeared on your face. “Am I forgiven?”

He sighed loudly as he reached out his arms to place it around your shoulder. “I can’t stay mad too long at my little Milkie, can I?”

You swooned in his arms, giving him the fondest look. Your head fell on his shoulder and you gazed at him through your lashes. He was beautiful, kind, funny, smart… God, he was just so bloody amazing. But he wasn’t yours. No matter how much you wanted him. You decided to hurt yourself a little bit. Get a sting of reality. Your pain kink took over, probably.

“So tell me about your date?” You smiled softly, a painful look in your eyes.

“Hm… Well, it went well. He’s really cool. I like him.”

You swallowed a nervous laugh before biting your lower lip. He liked him. Fuck, he liked him. Not you.

“Ah that’s cool… I’m glad it went well…”

He smiled at you, his dimples popping out, leaving your body sore from how much you wanted to kiss him.

“So…” You raised your head at him, looking for his eyes. “How about a movie night? Tomorrow?”

He rubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand and offered a sorry look. You already knew what that meant.

“Can’t tomorrow. I’m seeing Lucas.”

“Who’s Lucas?”

“My date.” He smiled fondly. You felt your heart sink. The way he smiled just hurt. Because you were not the one he thought about when he smiled like this. You’d never be.

You felt a burning sensation in the depth of your abdomen. You wanted to scream. Scream and shout because you knew he would never love you like this. No matter how much you loved him. And fuck, that hurts.

“Okay.” He probably could hear the pain in your voice. But you just couldn’t hide it.

You got up from the bench, leaving a confused stare on Harry’s face.

“Well, I- I have to go. I guess I’ll see you around.”

Harry got up. He grasped your wrist gently and turn you around to face him.

“Is everything okay?”

You looked at him and faked a smile. “Absolutely. Everything’s okay. I just have a shit ton of things to do. And… I mean, I’ll call you Bambi.”

He let go of your wrist. And just stared at you for a second. “Okay, Milkie.”

You gave him a last smile before going, the tears streaming down your face as you walked as quickly as you could.

***

You were sprawled on the couch. Your oversized sweatshirt covered half of your body while the other stayed bare. Your computer played the movie A Star Is Born and your fingers were picking Maltesers from the bowl sitting next to you. Your mind was everywhere except on the movie. Actually… It was on Harry. Of course, it always was. It was supposed to be your movie night… But it’s more like ‘overthinking your feelings for your best friend while binging a shameful amount of junk food night’. Was it that bad? No? Junk food is like a remedy for the soul. You always feel better when there’s chocolate… You always feel better when there’s Harry…

It was already past 10. Harry was probably on his date. Laughing, smiling shyly, batting his beautiful eyelashes, and telling stupid jokes to get his date to laugh. And they’d probably go out of the restaurant hand in hand and kiss at his door. Smiling and playing with each others’ fingertips. God.. You needed to get him out of your mind.

But it hurt that he chose his date over you. He did. Didn’t he?

You spent the next half hour trying to convince yourself it was just to be polite that he chose to go to his date instead of spending his night with you. Truth was, he just wanted to be there… Because he liked him.

You got up from the couch looking for a refill of your bowl. When your bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, you felt a shiver down your spine. The rain was pouring on the large windows in your apartment making the floor look like an art piece with the shadows of the drops dancing on the floor. You watched them for a second.

You jumped when you heard a knock on the door. Who the hell could it be this late? You had an idea and you truly wished you were right.

You walked towards the door and looked through the peephole, missing a heartbeat at the glimpse of the person standing behind it. You slowly opened the door.

“Hey.”

Harry smiled at you, his jacket soaked and his hair glued to his forehead. You invited him to come in. You didn't say a word for a while. Just took his jacket off, sat him on the couch and gave him a towel.

“Is everything okay?”

Why was he here? Was his date a creep? Did he miss you? Was he just bored?

He looked at you with a smile, ran a hand through his hair.

“Everything’s okay. I just…” He breathed for a second. “I felt wrong about… Missing movie night. You know? It’s our night.”

He beamed at you softly and your heart swooned. You loved him. God how much you loved him. Fuck how much you loved him.

“Oh… That’s sweet…” You grabbed the glass of wine you left on the counter. “But what about your date?”

He grinned widely. “Oh it was great. I just… Left early.”

You kinda hoped it hadn’t went well, but he seemed sincere. You had to go through it.

Harry pressed the towel over his hair, and neck. You watched him take his shirt off. You couldn’t even watch him. You’d probably come on the spot. How stupid. You saw him get undressed a million times but now it was different. You wished you could run your fingers against his skin, press soft kisses on his jaw, draw his tattoos with your hands, touch his hair, taste his lips. Everything you couldn’t do.

He gave you a confused look and a chuckle fell from his mouth. “You know you already saw me naked, right?”

You giggled softly. Maybe you should just tell him now. And get over it. Be like ‘So Harry I’m in love with you. Break my heart now.’ or maybe you could say ‘Bambi I want to be more than friends but it’s cool if you don’t want to I’ll just cry for a week or two.’ Well maybe you should just go for it in real, instead of playing this shit inside of your mind for the hundredth time.

“Bambi, can I talk to you?”

He looked up from his shoes that he was taking off.

He kicked it to the side, and stared at you. How could you focus when he’s shirtless, wearing light jeans and barefoot? The intimacy and ease you crave so much is right there. You just wish you could cross the line.

“Yeah sure. What’s up Milkie?”

You took a long breath before stepping in front of him, tugging on your sweatshirt. You coughed before talking.

“So…” You inhaled loudly. “I…” You were pretty much shaking. It was frightening and like the calm before the storm or in your case before the heartbreak, you needed a bit reassurance.

Harry stood up and gently grabbed your wrists in his hands, tilted his head to the side to look at you.

“Hey… Everything’s okay. It’s me.”

Well yes, it’s him, duh. That’s the reason why you’re freaking out. You gazed up at him and breathed again.

“I love you.”

You stepped away for a second, analyzing his reaction. The moment you saw him open his mouth to talk, you stammered a word, not letting him put one out.

“But it’s okay. I mean, I love you. It’s kinda fucked up. It’s like…”

You chuckled nervously.

“Being in love with your best friend, it’s just a weird thing. I don’t really know how it happened. I mean… Maybe it’s that night you pretended I was your girlfriend and it… Just felt right, you know? I mean… No you don’t know.”

Another giggle left your mouth. Harry was standing in front of you, watching you rambling over and over.

“Like… That’s pretty much why I was acting so weird. I don’t… It’s just a phase. Like… I’m gonna get over it. It’s not like I’m watching you and I want to kiss you or anything. I mean I do. But… No. It’s like… Oh that’s my friend Harry, Bambi, and yeah, I’m like in love with him… But not too much.”

You bit your lip and ran a hand through your hair. “Does that make sense?”

He looked at you with a smirk plastered on his face and his eyes were trying to decode you.

“Okay that doesn’t make any sense. I’m sorry… It was all a joke. Happy April Fools.”

You heard him chuckle and he pinched his lips. His eyes never leaving your face.

“I guess It’s okay. It was not such a good joke.”

You looked down and you felt him approach you. He raised your chin with his fingers.

“Are you done?” He whispered softly against your face.

“I guess.”

“So you’re gonna shut up now?”

You laughed nervously and nodded, you still couldn’t look at him.

“Can I say something?”

You felt his fingertips stroke your chin gently and you hummed for an answer.

“Will you look at me, Y/N?”

You glanced at him for a second and realized his grin never faded away.

“It’s okay. I think I knew, actually.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew?”

His whisper brushed the skin of your cheek. “I knew.” His voice went up and a chuckle left his lips. “You’re not really good at hiding your feelings, are ya?”

You hide a smile. You were definitely not. “No..”

He cupped your face with his hands and murmured, “Can I kiss you?”

You felt your blood rush through your veins. You didn’t think about anything. Your brain literally shut off. You had a hard time breathing. It was like a dream. You just nodded for an answer. But your eyes they were begging. Begging him to kiss you. To touch you. To never leave you.

His face was inches away from yours and when his lips pressed softly against yours, you felt like flying. They were soft and tasted like champagne. You closed your eyes for an instant.

And when you opened them, he was standing there, on the couch, pulling his shoes off, looking at you through his wet hair.

“So what is it that you want to talk to me about?”

You felt like sinking, like crashing on the ground. He raised his chest up, his tattoos were glistening because of the water. You could see a bit of worry in his eyes. “Everything’s okay, Milkie?”

You looked at him, your eyes shimmering because of the few tears gathering at the corners.

“Yeah…” You fake coughed. “Everything’s okay. I’m just lucky you’re my friend.”

[killmongerkink]

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Erik, your roommate and friend, comes home from work drained and sick. After heading off to bed, you awake to strange noises and follow them back to his room. Little did you know what you would find behind closed doors.

Pairing: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens X Black!Reader

Warning: masturbation, dirty talk, a dash of smut.

Length: 4k

BTW: idk why this is so long, but i hope you all enjoy & please show this some love bc i’ve re-written this like 10 times already smh. sorry if there’s any spelling errors

Part 2

MASTERLIST

You stayed silent, swirling your fork continuously in your plate of spaghetti as you watched your roommate sniffle roughly for the tenth time, his eyes fighting to stay open. It really didn't make sense for him to be fighting his fate with sleep, yet here he was ... holding back yawns and rubbing his nose roughly with the back of his hand. "Well that's ... disgusting." You mumbled, sighing heavily as you reached over to grab him a tissue. "Why don't you just take some medicine and sleep it off?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

You really had no idea why this man insisted on being stubborn. You figured you could just ignore him for the rest of the night and go on about your business, but you knew you were way too nice to do that. If you did, you'd just be staring at your door the whole time, fighting the urge to make him some ginger tea or get him extra blankets. But you knew Erik. He wouldn't allow you to take care of him in the slightest. He was too big-headed, way too arrogant .. and simply a dumbass if you were being honest. He could be on the floor dying and he'd still tell you to leave him alone. You didn't understand his logic most of the time, but figured he was grown enough to make his own choices ... as dumb as they may be.

"You gonna stare me down all night?"

Snapping out of your thoughts, you blinked quickly and look back at your food. Another sniffle met your ears a second later, this one making you cringe at the sound of thick mucus filling the kitchen.

"That's it." You said more to yourself than him.

You moved towards the cabinet and opened it, hoisting yourself up on your tippy toes as you tried to reach for the top shelf. You really weren't thinking when you allowed him to talk you into getting this fancy ass condo together. While it was nice, the cabinets were way too tall, you could never clean the floor to ceiling windows and god forbid you even attempted to change a lightbulb around here. In the back of your mind, you figured he had purposely chose this apartment because it would allow you to need him. He was weird like that. As much as he would huff and puff when you would ask for his help with a simple task, you knew that he liked the feeling of being needed.

When you came to the conclusion that you were just embarrassing yourself, you plopped back down on your feet and looked at him.

"Are you gonna even help me?" You rolled your eyes, watching as he stared at you with a half bored, half amused expression.

"I'm good."

You were this close to telling him off, but decided against it. Fights with Erik never ended in your favor. Somehow he was always able to flip the script and make it your fault, having such a way with words that you would start to second guess yourself and your stance in any given situation.

"Well you better pray I don't fall and bust my head open, you know the cops won't hesitate to snatch your ass up."

Ending your smart ass of a comment with a smile, you turned back around and raised your leg, resting a knee on the counter as you struggled, but finally succeeded in pulling yourself up. The countertop dug into your knees painfully, making you sway back and forth in effort to not be on them too long and you snatched the medicine pack from the cabinet. Huffing out a sigh, you made zero effort to sit down lightly as you fell back onto your butt and turned your body, sitting down.

As you were checking the expiration date on the half empty box of DayQuil flu pills, you didn't notice Erik's gaze on you.

Matter fact, you never noticed his gaze on you.

You had seen the women he would associate himself with and you were the exact opposite. While they all had long hair down their backs, you opted to rock your natural hair in your usual braid out or space buns. While they all wore tight clothing that excentuated their curves and hips, you felt most comfortable in a big oversized t-shirt and sneakers. They would be bold and blunt with what they wanted from the world, while you just stayed in the cut and let life drag you wherever it wanted to. To say you were the opposite of his type was an understatement, but you learned to deal with it. Everyone had their own type and you just weren't his.

Although you wish you were.

Throughout your months of living together, you tied to date around and make him jealous, hoping that Erik would magically realize that he wanted you to himself and demand that you see no one else but him. And you would've happily obeyed to his demands, but once again .. that was a fairy tale you had conjured up in your head. You knew that he could never like someone like you, and after a while you began to accept that.

Erik had wanted to fuck with you the first day he ran into you. You had this innocent glow that he wanted to corrupt in the worse ways. He would notice you on campus being the perfect little student that everyone knew you to be. Other people, including himself, would walk into class late with just a pencil behind their ear and their phone. Yet, you'd be one of the few with a large book bag next to them as you had notes, paper, and books spread out in front of you ready to learn. While everyone stood at the university bulletin board looking for the latest club flyer, you were pulling off babysitting and tutoring ads.

You were different and he liked that. He knew that his chances of getting with you weren't really slim. He'd seen the way you'd look at him when you thought he wasn't watching, but you were one of the few females he was cool with. Fucking up a good friendship just for a quick nut was dumb, didn't mean he didn't think about you though.

Your body is what caught his attention at first. Short and super thick, like real thick. Smother me with your thighs thick, but you seemed to not appreciate your extra curves. You liked to cover up and wear baggy clothes, something that he found cute but also hated. On one rare occasion, you came to him and asked for his opinion on your outfit. There was some important presentation you had to attend and the attire was business casual. You walked into his room, giving him a complete 360 of your white blouse and fitted gray skirt, the dimples in your ass pronounced. He probably jerked off to that imagine about three times that night.

Honestly, you were his dream girl in every aspect, but you were too good for him. You actually had positive things going on in your life and a future that rivaled his own pointless one. One day you'd be some successful ass doctor, while he was still scrounging around and doing the same ol' same ol'.

"Here, take two of these and go lie down. Don't even try to say you're fine, because that damn snot bubble you're trying to keep down is saying otherwise." You said before he could even get out a breath and placed the tablets on a napkin for him.

You left the box on the counter, figuring that he would need some later and started to pick up the dirty dishes and place them into the sink. After about 30 minutes, all the leftovers were packed away, the dishwasher was running and the stove and counters were cleaned. Erik has mumbled under his breath all the way to his room after helping, but you could care less. Atleast you could go to bed knowing you had tried to help him get better.

After your nighttime routine was completed, you dropped own onto your bed and cuddled your pillow as you waited for the sandman to come and whisk you away for the night.

3:57 am

You stared at your phone as you laid still. The sound of a loud thump had pulled you from your sleep approximately 15 minutes ago and you had been hearing strange noises on and off since. It couldn't have been an intruder, could it? If you remembered correctly, Erik made sure to lock the door after he came in from work.

Still, someone could've been experienced with locks and was now roaming the apartment. Or maybe it was your neighbors who had kids? What if someone was attacking them? You decided to play it smart and text Erik first, for all you knew it could’ve been him.

Minutes went by without a reply back and you rolled your eyes. Every other night he was up doing god knows what, yet the one time where you needed him to be awake and alert, he wasn't?

"Answer your fucking phone." You whispered to yourself.

When you finally came to the conclusion that he was going to be of no help, you quietly got out of your bed, wincing as it croaked underneath you. Damn boxspring. You opened your side table and pulled out your bright pink taser. It was a gift from one of your girlfriends that was given as a joke, yet now you were thankful for her crazy ass. She'd definitely be proud to know that you were about to put it to good use. Bracing yourself, you said a silent prayer and cracked open your door, holding your breath as you waited for movement to catch your ear.

THUMP.

Being the dumbass that you were, instead of waiting for the intruder to come to you, you decided to be a bold bitch and leave the safety of your room. If this was a horror movie you would've been cursing at the lead. You never leave where you are, always let the killer come to you. Not thinking, you continued to follow the noise until you were stopped in front of a door ... Erik's door to be exact.

Was he hurt? Was someone in his room? Was he currently taking his last breath as you stood frozen in front of his door? With your finger on the trigger of your taser, you quickly opened his door hoping to catch whoever it was by surprise. Little did you know how much of a surprise you were actually in for.

Erik sat in front of his desk, headphones in both ears, eyes unmoving and trained on his iMac screen. His nostrils flared as his bottom lip was lodged under the top row of his teeth, the air releasing from his nose coming out loud and heavy. Trailing your eyes down lower, you were met with his naked upper half, the screen illuminating on his skin and making his scars look as if they were glowing. You tried to distract yourself by looking at his computer screen, but that was a mistake. The screen showed a girl that looked a lot like you on all fours, one of her hands underneath her she pumped her fingers into her pussy roughly, her face contoured in pleasure as you heard her moans through his headphones. You looked away, eyes fixated back on Erik's face and you fought internally not to look lower. A part of you deep down knew that there was no going back once you caught a peek, but you couldn't help it. You had to.

Taking a quick breath, your eyes shifted and you felt your knees buckle beneath you, your taser falling from your hands. Your eyes twitched momentarily as you blinked, unable to believe what you were seeing.

Was this a dream? Was this all some sick, twisted, extremely sexy dream that your mind had conjured up?

Erik's large hand was moving up and down in even strokes, his hand gripping the black fleshlight tightly and creating a vile squelching sound each time it swallowed his dick. Every once in a while the fleshlight would hit against the desk, creating the loud thump that had you worried earlier. His other hand was gripping his base, his fingers cupping his balls underneath as his hips started to roll upwards. A second later he pulled the toy off of him, opting to use both of his hands instead as he increased his pace, your eyes finally getting to see what he actually looked like. The view was better than anything you could've guessed. A thick broad vein ran along his shaft, the glare from the computer causing it to glisten and look as if it was dipped in sugar syrup, the fluid motion of both his hands gliding up and down with a good amount left abandoned every time he reached his head letting you know that it was big enough to choke on.

"Fuck baby.."

Your eyes snapped up and met his, his lip now released as he smirked at you, staring in your eyes. You shuffled back slightly, your hand gripping the doorknob tighter as another grunt met your ears. You were slightly embarrassed at being caught. Any normal person would've apologized profusely and slammed the door behind them, yet here you were. Your mouth opened to spill whatever random excuse you could think, your mind going into overdrive.

"Eri- .. I didn't mean to .. I was just-"

"You got a sexy ass mouth." He mumbled, turning his body suddenly so he was facing you head on. Slouching down in his chair, he spread his legs causing his sweatpants to lock around the top of his thighs, almost as if he was silently begging you to step forward.

Your mind was telling you leave and just deal with the awkward repercussions in the morning, but your feet seemed to have a mind of their own as you slowly walked towards him. No words were said between the both of you after that. He simply nodded down to the floor and the next thing you knew, your knees were digging into the plush carpet. It was almost as if he was a puppet master. With the flick of his finger or nod of his head, you were following his silent commands with no resistance. He kept looking at you as he reached over and pulled his headphones from the computer input, the sounds from the girl filling the air around you. You couldn't front, between her moans and his glare, you were turning into mush. Watching the grip he had on his dick had you desperately yearning to play with yourself, you hand rubbing against your thigh catching his attention and causing him to lick his lips.

He leaned his head towards you, his dreads casting shadows over his face.

"Bout time you came. I been waiting for you."

Having him so close to you made you want to shrink away and disappear. You had been around Erik long enough to see the kind of effects he had on girls. The amount of drama that females had gone through the get his attention was wild. Switching up on their friends, changing their appearance, one even went as far as quitting her job just so she could spend the week with him in Miami. Bitches were crazy, or maybe it was Erik who was making them that way.

"You came to take care of me again? Always going out of your way to make sure I'm straight. You a good lil bitch huh?"

You mouth hung open, the thoughts in your head mimicing someone smashing their hands on a computer keyboard. If anyone else was to talk to you like this, you were pretty sure you would've gave them a dirty look and tell them to back the fuck up, but for some reason, hearing those words come from Erik's mouth made you moaning mess.

Literally.

Catching what you were doing, you felt embarrassment bubble inside of you. What was wrong with you? Were you really getting turned on by this man calling you a bitch? Coming to terms with it, you accepted that you were. There was a tiny part of you buried deep down that always fantasized about someone calling you names, treating you like a rag doll as they filled every hole you had. You just didn't think this someone would be Erik.

"You like that?" He watched as you nodded your head, a chuckle leaving his lips and his hand quickly gripped your face, causing your lips to pucker like a blow fish. "Always knew you were a freak."

Without another word, he pulled you forward causing you to shuffle quickly and grab onto the handles on his desk chair in order not to fall. You were pulled right up to his dick, the large statue staring back at you menancingly before it was being rubbed against your lips. You let him entertain himself for a while, enjoying the feeling of him getting off to your plush sets. You fixed them into suction cups, sucking the skin as he bucked his hips up and down, your tongue pressing against him and your lips spreading the wetness around him.

It was then that a sniffle met your ears, causing you to remember the events from the night before. You looked up at him, holding back your smile when you saw his red nose, which was extremely cute if you had to be honest. You moved back, softly moving his hands away and grabbing him fully in yours. He hissed when you started twisting your hand around his length. He was warm .. almost hot. How long had he been masturbating?

"You sick and all you could think about was jerking off?"

"All I could think about was you. I caught what you were doing earlier.” Caught of guard, your hand halted for a spare second, face twisted in confusion. All you did earlier was make dinner, like you usually did since he couldn't cook anything more than rice and ramen. You went to reply and ask what he was talking about when he rested his hand over yours, the both of your hands now working together over his length.

"Climbing up on the counter in just your t-shirt, ass hanging out at the bottom. You think you slick?"

"I didn't know it was out.."

He chuckled, like a real genuine chuckle, as if it was the funniest thing he'd heard all day.

"Come here girl."

You assumed you were moving too slow, because only a second or two later he was lifting you up and situating you onto his lap, your thighs pressing against the chair handles. You remembered when he had ordered this big ass gaming chair, claiming the plushed back support was worth the grand he'd spent on it. There were so many things you could've spent a thousand dollars on and it for damn sure wasn't no chair, but it did come in handy. With its wide handles and large seat, you were more than comfortable even with your large thighs pressed against the sides. He bounced his legs roughly, the force causing your breast to bounce against your chest. If someone were to tell you that you'd be sitting in his lap, hand wrapped around his dick on a Tuesday night.. you would've laughed. A real hearty one as if you were watching a Katt Williams special. Yet, here you were. You couldn't believe it.

"What are we doing?" The question came from your lips in a soft whisper, almost as if you were scared for his answer. A part of you were. Maybe he would sit back and realize just how crazy this whole situation was before pushing you off and telling you to get out. Maybe he'd realize that you were still the same girl you'd always been and ask you what the fuck you were doing in his room. All of the negative things he could've responded with ran through your head. Why did you have to ask that?

"What you think we doing?" He leaned his head back, eyeing you. Before you could think of what to say, he reached and started scrolling on the computer.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you." You looked at him annoyed, going to grab his hand away from the mouse, just for him to move it quickly. Here you were trying to talk to him and he thought the computer was more important?

"I don't want us regretting this in the morning. We fucking live together Erik, we’re supposed to be friends. This is gonna be so awkward.. oh my gosh."

Looking past your lust momentarily, you realized just how messy this was. Everyone knew that friendships couldn't work after hooking up. Sure, people would fake the funk and act like they were buddy buddy after, but you knew the truth. It would be weird and uncomfortable. You'd slowly start hanging out less, one of you always busy and out the house, no longer able to hold conversations with one another. Eventually one of you would have to move out, there was no question about it. God forbid you had to move back in with your parents, not even to mention how many questions they would have. Maybe you could find a new place, or try to get something on campus .. or- sound coming from his speakers caught you off guard.

You turned to the right and watched as the PornHub logo popped up before the video started. It was of a black couple, the girl sitting on the guys lap as he rubbed her ass. They started making out heavily, the girls moans ringing through as the man started to roughly grope her.

"Nothing's gonna go left. I ain’t gonna let you get away from me so easily, trust me. Just relax and let me take care of you like you take care of me. Now start stroking." Erik wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him as he kissed your forehead, casting them down towards your nose and lips before detouring towards your neck.

Your blurry eyes set on the large screen, taking in the sight before you and realizing he was pretty much mimicking them. When a loud slap rang through the room, Erik would make sure to follow it up with a slap of his own. When the couple would kiss loudly, Erik would grab you by the neck and kiss you roughly, tongue all in your mouth and down your throat as his lips pretty much covered yours.

"How many times have you watched this?" You trembled, goosebumps forming against your skin as your eyes closed momentarily. Your body was way too worked up and you could tell he was too by the amount of pre cum that had leaked from his head onto your hand, his wetness coating him everytime you caressed him. He was too busy fondling with your pussy from the back to answer. His middle finger dipping perfectly between your lips and leaving barely there touches against your clit.

"Enough to know I wanna fuck you like that." His finger bypassed the material of your underwear and finally slipped in, your body shuddering as you started rolling your hips. One finger wasn't enough and you were pretty sure two would just barely itch the scratch you had built up. His command to “open your fucking eyes” caused you to look back at the screen, seeing the couples positions now flipped. The girl laid back on the seat, her legs in the air as the man positioned his dick at her entrance, one long stroke allowing him to enter as the girl cursed profusely.

"Dreamed of fucking you in this chair, your ass hanging off it as your knees press against your chest, big ass titties bouncing for me."

"Must be a dream cause I'm not that flexible." You joked, earning a bite at your earlobe.

"You'd be surprised what the body can do when the right one handles it."

taglist: @chaneajoyyy @softnani @iamrheaspeaks @thehomierobbstark @honeytoffee @madamslayyy @destinio1 @theogbadbitch @supersizemeplz @amethyst1993 @bakarisangel @marvelpotterlove

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi babes! Are we still breathing? How much though have you given Harry’s pores, whiskers, dimples, nipples(all four)? Share with me about that and this chapter!! Hope you like my world building and Character introduction! Thanks do my advance guard @emulateharry, @dirtystyles, and @bleedinglove4h tripod forever!!  Talk to me!

Chapter 2- Sweet Thing

Harry could pinpoint exactly the moment the rest of the world, well his world, realized just what they had been missing in Jillian. She'd been a late bloomer, and only a few gross examples of "guys" had noticed her.

Like Mark Martin.

If there was one positive side effect to Jillian's inadvertent social debut, it was that the likes of Mark finally realized she was way out of his league.

Harry had already known it. Honestly.

But it was so painfully obvious by the end of the homecoming dance, he could only drive home alone and curse himself for being a fool and a coward. For not asking her on a date, formally. Jillian would have left with him. It would have been different. He could imagine it. Then they'd've laughed and joked and she might fix his collar and her nails would nick his neck and he'd get goosebumps, and she'd smile at him in a brand new way. He knew all her smiles, but this one would be brand new, to both of them. Harry would be overcome, and he'd get over his fear and press his lips to hers.

He didn't ask though.

It may have been a date to him, but he didn't ask her, so how was she to know? Jillian wouldn't have abandoned him for any party if they were on a date. If she said yes. Which was why he hadn't asked.

Maybe his dad was right; he should have just grown a back bone and told her. Told Jillian he liked her, more than liked her,  she drove him crazy and he was going to Stanford or Berkley, like he'd been planning, secretly. They were gonna move to California, not him to England, for school. That she should apply too. She never talked about going to school herself, just living with him and working. There was no reason she couldn't get a degree. She was much smarter than anybody gave her credit for, herself included. Her mind moved fast, she just needed some background knowledge. Harry could tutor her. He'd talk to her about that too, his plans, and revising her own too.

He was going to. Once they got through the dance. He'd worn a vest so she couldn't see where he was sure to sweat through his button up. It had already taken every bit of his gumption to execute. his plan. It would just take him a bit more time to work up the backbone. Harry knew he would have backed out, of all of it,  if he hadn't had the idea so close to it happening. Had it not captivated him. He was sorry he didn't back out. Kind of.

It had started on Wednesday. On their drive home. They were driving from the high school to her shift at Dairy Barn and he had studying to do. He was going to drop her, go to the library, and come back to pick her up. All of that still happened, but there had been an unexpected pause in their progress. At the library, the idea kept repeating in his head. The dress was just at the thrift shop. They'd seen it when he was driving her to work after school.

"Look Harry!" She was breathless, but her voice was a red octagon. The momentum threw them forward when he hit the brakes. He figured there must be a bird in the road or something.

"What?" He threw his eyes across the road like he was watching a tennis match. There was no bird, or dog, or sheep, nothing. "Why'd you yell?" Jillian was not a yeller, if you knew her, she already had your attention when she spoke.

"Look! That dress." She pointed to the thrift shop right across the way. She looked so enchanted. He pulled in without second guessing. It was pretty, she looked better imagining it than the dress itself, but his imagination, of her in it, surpassed even the yearning look on her face.

"Do we have time for you to try it on?" He was a little dreamy thinking about her in it, his voice thin as a wispy cloud. It was a slip of a dress, with a sweetheart neck and slim straps, A blush pink. It matched her cheeks after too much sun or too many giggles.

She glanced at her watch, bit her lip. He saw her decision made but she didn't voice it for a few more moments. "No, and I can't afford it. I have nowhere to wear it anyhow." She smiled at Harry, mist in her eyes be damned. "I just," she gestured at the window. "It's so pretty."

It was so pretty. Harry thought about it for a while, wondered if someone had lovingly made it, or it was bought in New York City years before and just took up space. Told its story to himself about how it wound up front and center in the small shop on their Main Street. He spent an hour of his study time wondering and making up his mind. That's what he told himself. In truth, the decision was made when she'd shouted for a closer look, then grieved the loss of the dress, or when Harry imagined her in it.

The tears, they made Harry weak. They didn't fall down her cheeks, but he'd seen the gloss on her eyes. He wanted to be strong for Jillian, but she made him weak. Truth was, he'd do anything for her.

After he dropped her off at work, he found his stash of birthday cash. He'd been saving up for a certain chemistry set, but this need was more immediate. Jillian may not have known it, but she had somewhere to wear it, the tear inducing dress. Homecoming was in three days. She had written that off with her Dairy Barn shift, but work would be so slow, she'd get off early. He'd surprise her.

It was a foolproof plan.

Well, there were places several it could go wrong. She could have to close the Dairy Barn, the dress could not fit her, or she'd scoff at the idea of going on a date with him.

It wasn't a date! He'd stress that if she asked. They were best friends, and this was their last year.  Neither of them had even been to a dance. They should go.

He'd just cherish it as a date, in his head.

The money felt crisp in his hands, unused dollars bills had that smell too. The one that filled his nostrils when he'd opened the birthday cards. Harry wished he was allowed to get a job. His dad always insisted that he focus on his studies instead. So, Jillian paid for their occasionally meals when she couldn't share her employee food and chipped in for gas.  Harry carefully hoarded money he was gifted.

Would it be enough?

"That's all?" He heard himself ask when the dress rang up.

"Do you want to pay more?" Mel, the store owner asked him. She was staring at him with an unlit cigarette in her mouth. She smoked in the street, which was weird because everybody just smoked inside, but the clothes in her shop smelled better for it. At least the ones that weren't musty.

"Um, no?" He was just surprised. It was well under what he expected.

"It'll look pretty on her." She turned away and was fussing with a bag and a hanger. It gave Harry time to find his voice.

"Who?"

Mel smiled and handed Harry the makeshift garment bag around the side of the counter. "Be sure to lay it out to avoid wrinkling."

The smile perplexed him. Was he made of glass?

He did as Mel said, carefully hooking it over the bench seat of his car so it hung onto the floorboard with the protective wrap on it.

He bought the tickets at lunch while Jillian was getting her food. He'd gotten lucky that there was no line. He was ready. Except he hadn't asked, and though she liked the dress, and he couldn't imagine this happening, what if she didn't like the way it looked on her.

It had sat in his closet for three days killing him. He and Jillian didn't keep secrets. Maybe because she had to keep so many from everybody else, and he didn't have anybody but her to share things with.

On Friday morning, after she'd slept over again, Jillian sat with her tea at the table, "You look like you have not slept a wink?" She'd touched his hand and it launched him forward twenty years to sharing a table and tea with her in their own house. But she was asking if he slept.

He hadn't. He may never again now with that image to haunt him.

She'd never gone in his closet, when he was lucky enough for her to wear his clothes, he always got them for her. He'd be mortified if she found an old pair of his briefs or something. All night though, the possibility of her walking over to grab one of his long sleeved button ups, one of his usual fantasies, had flipped it into a nightmare. She'd see. The pink dress hanging in the back. He saw it every time.

He was jumpy that whole morning on the way to school. Jillian had come out of his bedroom.

"Harry, your book bag!" She'd called in her melodic twang.

His feet had actually left the ground.

"You are so jumpy. Want to talk about what has you on your guard?" Jillian was always a little jumpy. He liked to come up behind her and say "BOO!" She'd jump and turn around and smack him on his chest. Then they would laugh together. It never worked on him.

"Nah, I had a dream. And that um, that tree outside was scratching the window. It's just the change of seasons. I miss summer." He put on a shiver and was rewarded with a smile and head shake.

"There are places where there is no winter." She let it lie. Her constant convincing amused him. Her being there was amenity enough.

"Are those places where people are gentle and wear flowers in their hair?" He asked with a blank pair of eyes. Undressed eyes, he could barely see her. He slipped his glasses up his nose with his pointer finger in a practiced move. His muscles would remember the move long after he stopped using the glasses when he didn't need them.

"Yes! That's exactly where it's summer, always." She laughed. He often made jokes of the lyrics of her favorite songs. San Francisco was going to be a favorite no matter what, on its name alone. Harry liked to make her smile. It worked as a distraction from his nervous condition.

He had to make it through the day. It was a rough one.

Harry got a C on a pop quiz.

"Mr. Styles, can you stay after class?" Mr. Brisco said as he entered their peer graded quizzes into his book and Harry tried to get to his next class.

"I'll be late." Harry protested.

"I'll write you a pass." He looked at Harry, looked behind his glasses where Harry imagined bruise like circles. "Is everything alright? This is not your usual standard." He gestured to the large red C with a scrawled 'loser' by his not so secret grader. It was Lance Hinkle, quarterback, BMOC, asshole.

"I'm alright. I slept poorly." He shrugged. "It won't happen again."

"Why don't you write me a paper on Nicholai Tesla, for extra credit. Due Monday." He extended his hand and Harry shook it. It was good to be well liked by your teachers, sometimes.

He really wanted to say no. He wanted to spend the weekend with Jillian, especially after taking her to the dance in the dress.

He needn't have worried. She was busy. They weren't gonna wind up in his truck all Sunday afternoon near the lake.

He took the opportunity though, and had plenty of time to complete it. Because his plan backfired.

Well, really it went seamlessly. She did get off early, and when he arrived, he had the dress, and she loved it.

And she looked as amazing as he expected.

He just wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Harry! You didn't."

He hadn't answered. It was rhetorical, it was obvious he did. They drove the short distance to his house and she just went inside. The hum of the engine matched the warm buzz in his chest. He relived her seeing his surprise 15 minutes before while he waited.

She liked it.

The look on her face, when she'd walked out, pulling her ponytail down on her way. Jillian was exhausted and bemoaning having her shifts cut. Worried. Her brow was knit as tightly as the sweater vest he had on. Jillian would have usually noticed how he was dressed up, not just trousers, those weren't out of the ordinary, or a button up shirt. His was usually short sleeved and plain white. Today he had on dark grey trousers and a long-sleeved blue shirt with a small print, and his fair isle vest. He looked nice, his hair had extra pomade. His trusty glasses with their heavy black frame completed his look.

He'd tried.

But her tired eyes woke up as soon as they lit upon the dress he'd hid for three days. And lost sleep over. It was all worth it.

"Harry!" She'd reached for the hanger with speed but stopped just before she picked it up. The hinge of his truck door was still settling after she had wrenched it open.

She'd slowed so much, the dress slinked down to nearly the pavement like a pink waterfall when Jillian hoisted it higher to protect the hem. "Oh! It's so pretty. Prettier than I thought! Oh but Harry! It's too much!"

"No, it was not nearly so expensive as I thought." He protested. He'd have blown every cent for her face.

"The thought Harry!" She'd looked at him then. "You look so nice."

He shrugged that right off. "It's pretty standard nerd fare for me." He demurred.

"No! The little print, it's psychedelic!" This was high praise from Jillian. "Is this for the dance?" She hoisted the dress two inches higher.

"Yeah, yeah." He swallowed the bullfrog lodged in his throat. Not a date. "We don't usually go. I was just thinking...." he shrugged like this speech wasn't rehearsed. "Let's see what high school has to offer before we fly away to the sunshine."

"Oh Harry!" She flowed and jumped up like a spun top, but rather than drop into his seat with the same energy, she reverently sat down and slipped the dress over her neck by the hanger. He assumed following Mel's advice without needing to hear it. It looked amazing like that, draped over her sharp turns and long flats. He couldn't wait.

He reminded himself it wasn't a date.

The drive home was full of her happy chatter and his listening ear. He liked that she could keep up conversation with only a nod or jest as his contribution. It was why they were like complimentary angles.

He kept the engine running, reminisced, and he was reminded how little polish she needed to shine when she came out not 15 min later. She got in the truck carefully.

He was thankful that Mel had suggested heels too, and that he knew her size. She tried to smooth her ponytail bump the whole way to the gymnasium. It had created a nice swoop, but he knew better than to correct her. He could almost hear her say,"What do you know about ladies hair? And I don't like it, so that's more important, my hair my ideas!" She'd been into women's lib as well as black rights lately. Ready to freedom ride and do voter drives, they were just too rural, and too Yankee. He'd already convinced her not to drop out. Twice.

Jillian found Vaseline in her bag and put a little on her pink lips, cheekbones, and a tiny slick over her eyelids. Perfect.

The moonlight bathed the truck cab and he had a momentary idea to convince her to go to the lake instead. To dance on the bank to the radio.

Maybe he should have, everything might have been different.

They walked in, hand-in-hand, which wouldn't shock anybody, so much as their presence would. They already wondered what the pretty but classless girl was doing with the nerdiest boy in school. They didn't say anything to Jillian, yet, but Harry wasn't spared from their comments.

"Does she have a thing for four eyes or something?" Steve Adler, class president and would be valedictorian, but for Harry, sneered at him one day. They had an antagonistic thing going before Harry out A'ed him. Harry corrected him in chemistry once. Since then, Steve was not a fan.

Steve was one of the first people to see them, on stage getting his crown, of course, most people were facing away. His attention caught was noticed. There was sort of a swell, a murmur.

"I'd like to thank my parents for my face, and god for my brain and height, and Jane for the dance." He leered. Then stopped short when he saw Jillian under the door light. His eyes tracked her from where her dress covered the less than stellar shoes, up over her round hips, lithe waist and ample breasts. He looked shocked when he registered her face. The shock stayed a minute when he clocked Harry. It turned to a sneer quick.

His face journey caught the crowd's attention, and Harry lived a fantasy and nightmare all at once. Jillian was on his arm, but the entire school was looking at him, them.

"Um," he wanted to clean his glasses, but Jillian had clenched his hand tight. "Do you, do you want some punch?" He'd thrown his hand to the side and they'd moved from under the inadvertent spotlight.

Jillian followed him easily, and stood close, with a hand on his bicep like a safety blanket while he poured them juice. The music had never stopped, in actuality, but it had definitely turned back up post speech and record scratch. The stage was clearing.

Couples were pairing up.

Should he ask her to dance?

Before he could get it out, her teasing tone rolled over his ears. "I know you don't!" She rolled her eyes. "But will you dance with me, Harry?"

Before he could say the obvious yes, he'd be happy to stutter his way through the steps with her, Steven was there.

He still had the crown on his head.

"Hey, um," he looks embarrassed for just a moment. His eyes flashing around in their lids. "Jilly!" Nobody has called her that in years, Harry thinks maybe the last person was Mrs. June, their 5th grade teacher. "Do you want to dance?"

Jillian looked back at Harry and shrugged. He hadn't answered fast enough. Or asked himself.

He wasn't sure if she said yes, but she hadn't said no.

He watched as she was held in Steven's arms. He drank his punch and diverted his eyes to where Jane stewed.

He thought the first song was unbearable, but then there was another, with Dale Turner, captain of the basketball team, and track star Will Whaisse. He would have left. Except he wasn't sure how she would get home.

Harry hated feeling sorry for himself. Being here was encouraging it. He should leave. He could be home studying, and Steve could bring Jillian home. He had that new mustang.

He had to talk to her though, on his way out. He decided this as his foot crossed the line at the threshold. The force of his turn brought his glasses to the end of his nose. He was pushing it up and nearing the edge of the dance floor when he saw her. She was 20 yards away, her neck on a swivel and her feet moving in a way he expected would land her on her face. From experience. That was without ill fitting high heels, and she had still grown into her body better than him.

Her eyes found his, and he didn't need his glasses to see her expression. Relief, maybe a smidgeon of apology. They moved together like there was apiece of thread being spoiled from his heart to hers.

"Harry, will you dance with me now?" Jillian asked when he reached the free throw line. She was just under the basket. He kept walking.

"Yes, I'll dance with you now." Always.

Her arms circled his neck and his found her lower back, where her hips flared out. This was lower than he had ever purposely touched her. The times it had been accidental haunted him.

Jillian's arms widened at his shoulders and she laid her head on him. It reminds him of a prolonged hug. Like he remembers his mom giving him that last day. Jillian does that, exuberantly hugs him, but never for more than 30 seconds, tops. He has counted. She did hours ago, when she got out of the car to put on the pink dress that looked better on her than he could ever imagine. This long cinch of their bodies, snuggled up tight. It's his linchpin. When she turned her head in along his clavicle and he felt her breath at his jugular, he was bleeding love.

He might tell her. On the way home. That he had always wanted to be her forever. When they were young he thought that meant friends, but now he meant wife. They could get married, if she wanted.

Then it would be his job to protect her, officially. He already tried. To provide for her, he could work at the university. They could have a little apartment in San Francisco she could fill with flowers and fabrics, music and laughter. It would be a nice life. He could hold her like this in their kitchen. They'd dance before dinner.

The chance, at that life, the one in his vision, it's enough to make him brave.

"Jillian." He'd be sad her head came off his collarbone, but looking down into her eyes was good too.

The music had stopped and Harry hadn't registered it was the last dance. It's the perfect time. The only Time.

Before he could get anything out but an exhale, Steven Adler was standing right next to her. Talking about some party everybody was going too.

Except Harry. Who was not invited and had curfew.

He didn't sleep, not much. He'd been tossing and turning. After he'd written his paper too. He knew enough about Tesla for a basic five paragraphs. His bed felt like a tomb, so he heard the faint knock at his window somewhere between the darkest part of night and dawn.

She's there. Jillian. The sun was changing the sky behind her. Harry can't see any tears, but something, something's off.

He didn't ask, and she didn't tell. That night, she just got into his twin bed with him, still in the dress he bought her, and nodded off. He worried about his dad finding them in bed together, but they were fully clothed, and he was so tired.

And she came back to him.

[blackleatherjacketz]

For Old Times’ Sake

Captain Christopher Pike x Reader

Summary: You hitch a ride on the Discovery to get to the next star base for another mission, but the captain looks very familiar...

(Gif courtesy of @indianajcnes )

Words: 2018! Sorry not sorry.

Warnings: NSFW, Lemon, Power Dynamics, Choking, Pleasure Delay, 

Tags: @skittle479 @negansdirtygirl22 @genevievedarcygranger @starfleetisapromise @indianajcnes @aggistopheles @e-ripley @mellabreeanna @my-world-of-imagines

“You wanted to see me, Christopher?” You took in a deep breath, hoping the new Discovery uniform would hide your excitement at seeing him again.

“I did.” He smiled and stood up from his chair. “Lieutenant Diaz said you’ve been off world for a while, now.” He started toward you, adjusting his own uniform as his crisp clean scent flooded your senses.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, sir,” you started, trying to play it cool.

You couldn’t help but remember the year-long mission you’d taken with him a few years back. Those long nights of reconnaissance ending up with him in your bed started playing on repeat the moment you saw his face again. You’d never crossed that line with anyone in your career before, but there was something about Christopher that drove you wild, something you could never quite place...

His lips spread into a smile as his teeth shone bright, bringing out those charming dimples you knew so well.

“I remember.” He stopped directly in front of you, his uniform bringing out the blue in his eyes as he looked you over. His smile widened as he traced the silver stripes on your shoulder, following them down to the tip of your axilla. “The Discovery uniform looks good on you, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir.” You kept your hands clasped together behind your back while he inspected you. Although his fingers barely touched the cloth that covered your body, his pressure was just enough to get your heart beating faster than you’d care to admit.

“Take it off,” he ordered, letting his hand drop to his side.

“Sir?” You weren’t sure if he had found someone while you were away undercover, or if he had tired of the idea of you entirely.

“You heard me, Captain,” he turned on his heel and walked over to his desk, sitting on top of the dark wood. He paused for a moment as if the thought of you finding someone else crossed his mind as well. “Unless…” he raised an eyebrow.

“No! I was actually hoping that…” you started to reassure him, unclasping your hands.

“Good,” He cut you off, a boyish grin gracing his features. “I mean, uh, your uniform, Captain.” He cleared his throat and placed his hands next to his thighs, glaring at you in hopes of keeping his dominant demeanor. “Take it off.”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, unlatching your collar.

“Captain,” he addressed you, raising a hand in the air. “Slowly.”

Your heart jumped a little faster now, the beating loudly audible in your ears as it pumped the blood through your arteries and into your extremities. Fully oxygenated fingertips unlatched your collar before finding the zipper of your jacket, pulling it down at an agonizing pace.

You glanced up at him as you reached the base of the zipper, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned forward on his desk. He nodded for you to proceed, his knuckles white against his desk while he held on for dear life as your jacket dropped to the floor.

“Your undershirt,” he whispered shakily.

You smiled coyly, pulling the thin cloth up and over your torso before it fell on top of your jacket. Shivering, you’d suddenly remembered how cold Christopher liked his personal quarters, the air shocking your skin awake as the hair on your arms and neck stood on end. You felt his eyes dance over you, even from their distance across the room, they were able to provide a blanket of warmth that counteracted the frigid temperature of the room.

He nodded again, signaling for you to remove your bra as he sat up straight and cleared his throat one more time.

You took the hint and removed the last bit of clothing keeping your breasts at bay, letting the black lace fall to your feet.

“That’s hardly Starfleet regulation underwear,” he tilted his head as he took you in, slowly licking his lips.

“We were undercover, Captain,” you told him. “We had to blend in.”

He stood up, biting his bottom lip before stepping toward you as he stared at your hips. “Show me the rest.”

He unclasped his own collar, a motion that greatly resembled a man loosening his tie after a long day at the office, and started unzipping his jacket. His smirk matched your own as you pulled down your pants, revealing black lace panties that hugged your hips.

“You look even better than I remember,” he told you, unzipping the gold metal teeth that held his jacket together.

“Really?” You stepped out of your shoes and pants.

“Really.” He shrugged out of his jacket and pulled off his t-shirt, tossing it halfway across the room. Those bluish green eyes of his looked almost gray against his bare skin, matching the silver hair that covered his chest. “Lay down.”

Finally, he was going to touch you. He was going to end this obnoxious power-trip of a game and take you like he took you so many nights before.

You nodded and did as you were told, glancing back at him as you walked over to his bed in the corner of the room. It was neater than you expected, but you supposed he had to set an example of tidiness now that he had a whole ship to run. You shrugged and sat down on the bed, laying on your back as you watched him undress the rest of the way.

“You know, when I first heard you were coming aboard, I was a little nervous.” He traced the edges of your toes, tickling them as they curled under his fingertips. He smiled and laughed under his breath, making his way to the center of your foot.

“I’d almost forgotten what you looked like.” He smoothed his hand across your heel, up the middle of your shin and under your knee, sending a delicious shiver up into your spine.

“I’d almost forgotten how you felt.” He gripped your knee tenderly, letting go only to move up the length of your thigh as his fingers stopped just short of the hem on your underwear. He purposefully paused and looked up at you, realizing how badly you wanted him as you rhythmically moved your hips toward his touch.

“How you tasted.” He slid his fingers beneath your underwear, gently collecting the moisture from your length and overly sensitive bud. He took his time pulling his fingers back, robbing you of his touch as he held you with his gaze. “Mmm…” he smirked and sucked your arousal off his digits. “I can’t imagine ever forgetting that.”

“Chris,” you moaned in a hoarse whisper, reaching out to him. “Enough already,” you begged, sitting up on your elbows.

“Enough?” He raised an eyebrow, pushing you onto your back. “I thought you always liked this game.” His hand slid around your throat, squeezing playfully as he kept you in place.

“I like this,” you admitted, spreading your legs as he climbed on top you.

“Always right down to business.” He finally kissed your lips, the salty taste of his mouth mixing in with his scent as you welcomed his oral intrusion. “You never let me play as much as I want to.”

“You take too long.” You kissed him back with a smile. “And it’s been, what…” You rocked your hips up into his, trying to remind him of your urgency. “Five years?”

“Seven years,” He deepened his kiss, running his free hand through your hair. “But who’s counting?” he growled, playfully biting at your jawline.

You gasped as he sucked on your flesh, licking and biting behind your ear as he kept his grip on your neck as tight as you’d allow. No matter how much time had passed, Christopher always knew what you liked, how you liked it, and just how far to take it. You relished in the sensation of his mouth, moaning as his teeth and tongue painted a trail of moisture down your neck and clavicle, the restraining force of his hand increasing your excitement.

You felt him grow and leak against your thigh, cursing your underwear as it remained a barrier between the two of you. You wished you would have taken it off earlier with your pants, but you were too caught up in his little game to care. You slid your hands down your hips, taking the troublesome cloth with them as you shimmied it down your knees and off your feet.

Christopher pulled back, relaxing his grip on your throat before tracing a line down the space between your breasts. “I missed these,” he whispered, taking one in each hand as he sat back on his knees.

“They missed you,” you whispered, feeling his tip rock up and down your dripping wet length.

“I can see that.” He took each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching waves of warmth throughout your entire body. He watched you writhe under his touch, convulsing like a synchronous wave upon the ocean, letting go only after you moaned his name a dozen times.

“You haven’t changed much,” he smirked, letting his hands travel down your midriff until they finally reached the heat in between your thighs.

“Neither have you,” you whispered angrily, rocking so hard against him you thought you might catch fire. “Please, Chris,” you whined, closing your eyes as you finally felt his thumb on you again. “Please!”

He paused and stroked himself against you, painting clear coats of your own juices up and down your length before finally giving you what you wanted. He pressed himself into you, holding deep pressure on your clit as he stretched you out and filled you to the brim.

“I love it when you ask nicely.” He slid his arm underneath your thigh, hoisting it up onto his shoulder as he pushed himself inside of you.

“Oh my God, Chris!” You moaned, squeezing him tightly as he pulled out of you. “Oh my God!” You threw your head back in ecstasy as his pace got faster, his girth sending your insides into a sensational frenzy.

You opened your eyes and looked down at him, noticing a silver curl falling out of place as he moved your other leg on top of his shoulder. You lifted a hand to move it, to brush it out of the way, but he grabbed your wrist and held it down against the mattress.

He shot you a scolding look and held it there, thrusting against your most sensitive spot each and every time he rocked into you. Waves of pleasure built up with each thrust, a knot of warmth growing in the pit of your stomach as his hips became more purposeful, more angry. His eyes were as black as the vacuum of space, scanning over you as your sweat mixed in with his.

He finally started to moan, to groan against your thighs as the both of you nearly reached your breaking point. He had to have felt how close you were, how tightly your muscles were contracting against his cock as he repeatedly slid in and out of you.

You felt it now, that spark, that rush, that wave of pleasure that only he managed to draw out of you. That knot in your stomach seemed to untie itself completely, spilling it’s contents of pleasure inside you and down your hips, thighs and toes. You felt them curl behind his head, pointing them inward to pull him in even closer than he already was.

He let go of your wrist and wrapped both hands around your shins, holding you tight as he felt you spasm and quake around him. He pushed himself in so deep as that wave of pleasure finally hit him, matching your body’s movements and spilling his pleasure inside of you, his own toes curling behind him.

He smiled and kissed your shins after he finished, pulling out of you only to lay down next to you as the vibrations from your orgasm caused your teeth to chatter.

“I told you you liked this game.” He winked and kissed your forehead.

[orpheasolace]

Yo guys, I wrote something. Constructive criticism is welcome😁:

Nectar was alone at a wedding.

To clarify, his brother’s wedding. At the reception.

And yes, in case you’re wondering, he does know how sad that is and he really does not want to think about it more than he already is.

Not that he was trying to think about it in particular. Nectar didn’t care enough to really be bothered by the fact that he was shadowed in a corner while other people swung around, moving their bodies in jerking movements and whooping at the top of their lungs for no reason that Nectar could identify. Still, he wouldn’t mind someone to talk to. Ugh, he couldn’t believe he was thinking that.

He watched all the happy couples, including his brother and newly deemed brother in-law dancing drunkenly to the beat of a familiar pop song that no one could really name, but everyone had heard it at some point or another. “Nectar!” someone called.

Startled, Nectar turned to see his cousin stumbling in a weak attempt at dancing and waving him over, “Nectar,” she yelled again, “Come join the fun!”

Feeling his eyelids droop into an unimpressed expression Nectar began in a false cheery voice, “Maybe I will,” his eyes narrowed, “Or maybe I’ll go get a drink, my dear nineteen year old cousin. Y’know, since I’m over twenty-one and all.”

His cousin, Sherri, whom he’d grown up with (along with her twin sister, Marci) rolled her eyes impressively. She was only nineteen years old but she had already broken the rules more times than Nectar could remember. 

“Oh, come on. Loosen up a bit!” Sherri called, grabbing another champagne glass from a passing waiter. She drained it in three gulps and then went back to dancing awfully and annoying Nectar.

“No offence, but I’d rather stand here for another three hours.” He deadpanned. 

Just then Marci came up behind Sherri and began dragging her away, much to her sisters protests. She shot Nectar an apologetic smile and he raised his cup of coke in salute.

Marica was the reasonable, responsible twin out of the two. You could tell by the number of grades she’d skipped, her steady relationship that had been nearly perfect for two years and the fact that she was currently studying art at the Rhode Island School of Design. 

Meanwhile, Sherri was barely passing summer school classes, dating a guy named Bob who ran an underground sandwich shop at his dorm (his specialty was tuna and jalapeno), and would be taking the SAT for the sixth time in the fall.

Don’t take it the wrong way, Nectar begrudgingly loved both like little sisters and these were all things Sherri had said herself when she received her end of year grades and had a breakdown. Nectar just wished Sherri would pull it together a bit and stop feeling sorry for herself. And not just because she tried to drag him to every social event she attended, or because the stench of alcohol made him gag, or because she was staying at his already tiny apartment. But because he cared.

Nectar shifted closer to his guitar case, loosening his tie which felt more like a noose to him. The party went on, with a sparkling disco ball in the middle that Nectar had told his brother not to get. But of course he had gotten it anyway.

Suddenly, someone knocked into him and they both crashed onto the floor. There was a yelp and the sound of shattering glass. “Ouch,” Nectar groaned, rubbing the back of his head which had slammed against the wall. He was sprawled at an awkward angle, one leg bent underneath him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” said an apologetic voice. Nectar looked up to see a dark-haired boy scrambling to stand, his face shadowed in the flashing lights. He wore a waiter’s outfit that was stained with splattered wine from the glasses that had fallen. A tray was on the ground a few feet from where the two had collided.

“It’s fine.” Nectar said, observing a deep cut from the glass on his hand with mild concern. The waiter saw the blood and he tensed up.

“You’re bleeding!”

“I can see that.”

The boy grabbed Nectar’s hand in both of his to get a good look at the cut, sending a wave of discomfort through Nectar. “Oh jeez, I’m so so sorry.”

Nectar finally looked up from his hand, “It’s fine rea-oh, wow, your eyes are really pretty.” he blurted, face flushing.

The boy was staring straight at him, eyes so light they were almost gold with multiple shades of amber highlighting them. His hair was shoulder-length, tied up in a messy ponytail. When he saw Nectar blush, the corners of his mouth twitched up, those beautiful eyes sparkling and the multicolor party lights flashing prettily on his brown skin.

“I’m apologizing, you’re not supposed to compliment me.” The boy said, grinning at Nectar kindly. He had dimples. Nectar noticed this and for some reason he kept repeating the fact in his head, his face growing warmer by the minute.

"Um, I-I didn't mean to be so direct, er, I didn't mean to say anything at all. Sorry, you're probably not even um...sorry. I-I uh, don't even know your name." Nectar said, knowing fully well how much he sounded like a Disney princess. Though, Cinderella probably didn't stutter as much.

The boy laughed, holding out his hand, "Abraham."

Nectar only hesitated a second before placing his hand in Abraham's, "Nectar."

Abraham's long, thin fingers curled over Nectar's hand, their eyes locked. "You're the brother of one of the grooms, right?"

"Yeah." Nectar said, rising off the floor with Abraham following his lead a second later, their hands still linked in front of them. Nectar pointed at the waiters uniform, "You working?" He asked, then scolded himself for asking such a stupid question. Of course he was working, he was in uniform and handing out drinks. Nectar's face flushed with embarrassment.

But to his surprise,  Abraham just smiled sheepishly, "Well, I was originally supposed to be the pianist but, y'know," he waved in the direction of the dance floor, indicating the loud pop music booming from the speakers, "There's really no need for piano music after everyone's wasted."

Nectar laughed in spite of himself, and he thought he saw a blush on Abraham's cheeks. But certainly he'd imagined it, after all, it was hard to see in the shadow of the party lights. "I'll make sure to yell at my brother for allowing a musician to be put to work as a waiter. I'd like to hear you play sometime."

Woah, that was actually pretty smooth. Nectar gave himself an internal round of applause for his excellent conversational stamina and skill which were much stronger than usual, it seemed. Although, those eyes were perfect motivation.

Abraham's grin widened and he glanced at the dance floor before pulling Nectar a bit closer and bowing slightly. "May I have this dance?"

Nectar felt himself melt, aware how hot his face felt. "W-with this music?"

"Why not?"

"But I don't know how to dance!" Nectar said, cursing himself for arguing. 

Abraham pulled him, gently, even closer until they were sharing the same air, his other hand slipping down to rest on Nectar's waist. "Just follow my lead."

With that, the two began to dance, Abraham taking the lead and kindly whispering instructions on where Nectar should step. They never looked away from each other, Nectar's free hand on Abraham's shoulder and the other still being held. 

They unconsciously drifted into the crowd, standing out as the only slow-dancing couple in the room. Nectar felt his throat tighten. Everyone was watching, they were seeing him. He had worked so hard to stay invisible, but yet here he was; in the spotlight. And that spotlight was Abraham.

Abraham with his gorgeous amber eyes. His wine-splattered uniform and nimble pianist fingers. Abraham's soft smiles and music-like laughter that Nectar wanted to hear like a lullaby. Somehow all of Abraham made the crowd, the stares, the whispers and all the people brushing against Nectar on the packed dance floor, entirely insignificant. And all that was important was Abraham's soft touch and the music only they could hear that they danced to shyly. The world could be in total chaos but they would not look away, the pop music fading out, replaced by a melodic piano.

Suddenly, Abraham put his head in Nectar's shoulder so they were hugging and swaying. Nectar saw Sherri and Marci behind them, Sherri giving him a thumbs up and grinning like a maniac while Marci held her up, beaming at him proudly. He rolled his eyes but smiled into Abraham's shirt, trying to preserve even a shred of his dignity.

The other boy smelled like wine and Garden is cologne, a scent that made Nectar tuck his head into the curve of Abraham's collar bone. He was so present, so real. And Nectar could feel himself falling…

"Hey piano boy! Hey!" A voice cut through the trance and the two jumped apart, turning to see an angry cook calling from the kitchen door. "Dancing won't get you out of work, get the h ell over here and serve some strings! Your boyfriend can wait!"

And just like that the pop music was back, crude and loud enough that the floor shook. Not to mention the crowd, it was suffocating and Nectar desperately wanted to get out of it. He tensed up and Abraham must've noticed because he pulled them over to their original spot in the shadows where the glass and wine had been cleaned, leaving only Nectar's guitar to mark it. 

"I have to go." Abraham said apologetically, disappointment clear in his voice as he spoke to the boy before him.

Nectar nodded, "Yeah, I think everybody at the party knows. That cook can yell." He joked. When he got nervous he would start joking around to avoid negative attention. And he was more than nervous now. He was terrified of somehow screwing this all up. The eyes, the music. It was like fragile porcelain in his shaking hands. 

Abraham smiled at him before pulling out a blue Crayola marker from his trouser pocket where a pack of sticky notes was also visible. When Nectar looked at it, confused, he grinned. "Magical waiter powers, we must always be ready to take an order."

"Wow." Nectar said, his eyes drinking in the dimples like he would never see them again. And maybe he wouldn't. "I never knew being a waiter was so hardcore." 

"You'd be surprised." The other boy replied. Then, Abraham took his arm, making Nectar jump, and wrote a phone number on his skin. "Call me. I'd like to see you again." Abraham's face redeemed and he looked away, smiling sheepishly, "I don't think I could forget your smile."

A shiver went through Nectar as he nodded, looking down at the numbers in astonishment. "I don't think I could forget your eyes." He replied quietly.

Abraham beamed at him before glancing around and pecking Nectar lightly on the cheek. His lips lingered near Nectar's ear and he whispered, "Sorry again for the collision, I'll try to avoid unprecedented Jon's on our next date." Then he pulled away, smirked, and ran towards the kitchen, leaving Nectar in a puddle behind him.

Nectar leaned against the wall, he didn't feel alone anymore. His heart was light as he re-played the time with Abraham in his head. The next date. He said next date.

Nectar smiled to himself, touching the spot on his shoulder where Abraham's head had just been. Everything was the same, Sherri was still illegally drunk and running around the dance floor with Marci hovering over her like and mother rather than a sister, the music was still terrible and the groom's were still in each other's arms at the center of the crowd. 

But everything had changed as well. Because now Nectar had the memory of a boy's beautiful eyes and the large blue numbers on his arm just waiting to be called the next day when everyone was hungover and left Nectar alone. But most of all he had the sound of piano music in his heart, the steady melody of a single dance.

[glassbangtan]

Behind the Production {Kim Namjoon}

Words: 6k

  Summary: It was strange how a year and a half of coffee runs could make you fall in love.

  Genre: fluff

  Warning: nothing

  Notes: masterlist – I may have gushed about Namjoon's legendary mind in this fic but i'm not editing any of it out.

   ---

    His name was Kim Namjoon. Tall, broad, dimpled. He liked his coffee with only a little bit of milk, though he didn't mind if you delivered it to him black. He always had a grateful smile and a bow to give to you whenever you walked in the door, despite you being a few years younger than he was.

   He had the job you wanted. He was doing it all, living the life you craved, living the life he truly did deserve with the work ethic he put in. There were some days when you would walk into the studio in the mornings to see he had yet to move from the previous day, multiple cups of coffee emptied at his side, his head ducked into his hands as he clicked away at the computer. On these days, you had to force yourself to ignore him; if there was one thing that annoyed the calm man that was Kim Namjoon, it was telling him he worked too hard.

   He didn't believe in those words. He thought they were ridiculous. How could someone possibly work too hard? There was no such thing. You either did nothing, or you worked. That was how it was. To him, there was no limit on how many hours he could spend dawdling over the same song over and over, drafting and re-drafting a beat that, at the end of the day, would be modified in mixing anyway.

   He never minded that, though. The finished product that he got to hold in his hands for a few minutes before it was passed on was enough for him, and perhaps that was why you found yourself so enamoured by the man.

   He knew your name. He saw you every day, what with you appearing in his office with a fresh cup of coffee every few hours. It wasn't like he was completely oblivious to your presence, because unlike a lot of other people who worked at Bangtan Studios, Namjoon actually took the time to get to know the people who were doing him favours. He was kind like that.

   But you didn't think you had the right to label him as much more than a work colleague, an acquaintance at a push. You definitely couldn't call him a friend, not without sounding strange. Mainly because you two had a firm business-oriented relationship, and that was all there was to it. You took what you could get.

   It was yet another drowsy Monday morning. Korea had finally made the tipping point from autumn to winter, meaning the biting chill of October had gradually become unbearable as December arrived. You huddled yourself beneath an oversized black coat which drifted far past your knees, forcing you to walk as if your shoes had somehow ripped against the wet concrete, but you didn't care. You were freezing, and be damned with anybody who looked at you funny.

   Namjoon's cup of coffee was in your hand. A little bit of milk, two sugars – the same order you had been repeating back to the barista at the local coffee shop every morning for the past year and a half. It was beginning to become repetitive, but Namjoon didn't like change. You had once overheard him telling Min Yoongi that, if his coffee order changed, he somehow felt as if his style of production changed, too.

    From that day on, you had made sure to double check his order was right before delivering it to his office.

   Pushing past your obvious fatigue, you arrived at Namjoon's office and racked your knuckles against the door. Once upon a time, doing such a simple action would have left you feeling nervous, butterflies swarming your stomach at the idea of seeing his face – would he invite you in today, perhaps ask if you wanted to listen to some lyrics he had been drafting? It wasn't a far stretch of the imagination to think of him doing such a thing; on multiple occasions, Namjoon had invited you in and asked for your opinion on certain things, but it had never felt like anything more than an innocent matter of is this good?

   It had been a year and a half, though. You didn't live in a romance movie. You weren't constantly smitten every single time you saw Namjoon's face, wasn't completely thrown off the rocks as soon as he opened the door and graced you with that perfect smile that had dimples so deep you were fairly certain somebody could move in to them and live quite comfortably.

   The door opened. You looked up, smiled even before his face came into view.

   “Good morning,” you chirped. “I come bearing gifts.”

   Namjoon chuckled, opening the door to full capacity. “As you always do. How are you this morning?”

   “I'm good. It's freezing outside, though.” To exaggerate your statement, you let out a small brrr and tucked your hands deeper into the oversized sleeves of your coat.

   Namjoon chuckled, but the noise came to an abrupt stop as his eyes raked over your form. You hadn't been lying when you said it was cold outside – in fact, you were still trying to warm yourself up even as you stood in the entranceway to Namjoon's studio. There was still a small, but noticeable, shiver to your shoulders.

    “But I'm fine,” you quickly added, not wanting Namjoon to worry.

   “You didn't even get yourself a coffee,” he said, raising a brow as he inspected his own beverage. “I could have cashed out an extra £3 for you to get yourself something to drink, Y/N. It's not an issue.”

 Your eyes widened. “What? No. I'm fine, Namjoon. It was-”

  But Namjoon had already turned on his heel and re-entered his office. He left the door open, a silent invitation for you to follow him. You stepped a hesitant foot inside, looking around at the figures adorning the walls and the fancy lights which kept this place looking much more futuristic than it needed to – it was cool, though it looked extremely expensive.

   Namjoon made his way over to his desk and dragged his wallet out of the first drawer. Immediately you were by his side, grabbing on to his wrist and shaking your head. “Namjoon, I swear to-”

   “How much is a coffee these days?” he asked. “I'll give you a tenner. Then you can get yourself something to eat, as well.”

   He tried to shove the ten pound note into your hand, but you were quicker than he was. You jerked your arm back, furrowing your brows at him as if you were scolding a child. Namjoon could only grin at your expression, continuing to hold the note out to you.

    “I can buy my own coffee, thank you very much.”

  “I'm sure you can,” he replied. “But I'm buying it for you today.”

    “No you're not.”

   “Is that a challenge, Y/N?”

  You faltered, trying desperately to ignore the thundering sound of your heartbeat  – curse him. Curse him and the way he could turn from friendly-oversized-teddy-bear to possessing a sudden growl in his voice that made your legs genuinely quiver beneath you.

   He was only changing his tone so he could get under your skin, and you refused to give him that satisfaction. You were a grown woman. You could stand your ground if you -

   Namjoon saw leeway in your moment of distraction.

   He was suddenly lurching forward, wrapping his fingers through the pockets of your oversized coat and tugging you into him firmly. Your chest hit against his own, and that was enough to have you blanking out of the situation almost immediately. His warmth engulfed you. You could feel his fingers in the pockets of your coat, pushing the ten pound note securely into the confines.

   You pushed him away, a smile beaming across your features as he laughed at his own actions. He swivelled around, looking back at his computer before taking an all-too-casual sip of his coffee.

   “Now, no more arguing with me,” he said. “I can even drive you to the coffee shop if it's still raining-”

   But you were already gone, yelling a quick goodbye over your shoulder before you slammed the door closed. You followed closely after it, pushing your back up against the wall and panting to catch your breath.

  What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?

   If you were any less wise, you would have assumed that Namjoon had just had banter with you, a direct contrast to the professional relationship you were so used to having with him. He never spoke to you like that, never had moments of playful fun with you – in fact, the only time he actually allowed you to step foot in his studio was whenever he needed a second opinion on something and you were the only one there to help him. Never before had he thought too much about the fact that you bought his coffee every morning and hardly ever indulged to buy yourself one.

   You swallowed thickly, trying to shake the feeling of his chest against yours free from your brain. God, you were like a school girl with a silly crush. As you pushed yourself off the wall and headed back down to the lobby, you had to keep reminding yourself that you were a grown woman, that you were meant to be professional in your place of work. The fact that Namjoon had been acting a little different today could not destroy the professional reputation you had built up for yourself in this place.

   You refused.

  Even if it was most tempting.

    +

   “-and apparently there's these chemicals in the water that have been known to be, like, toxic to humans or something.” Hoseok shook his head, still staring at his untouched glass of water with furrowed brows. “Do you believe it?”

   “Hm?”

  Hoseoks eyes flicked upwards, finally breaking away from his glass. He narrowed his eyes when he saw that you were, indeed, lost in your own head just as much as he was. Perhaps that was why the both of you were such close friends – you could sit for hours and hours and just daydream about the tiniest of matters, and neither of you would care.

   Now, though, you weren't daydreaming about made up scenarios. Though you tried desperately to hide it, Hoseok could clearly see the frown on your face, the crease between your brows, the way you clenched and unclenched your fists in an any attempt to remain in the real world before the memory of what had happened today threatened to drag you into oblivion.

   Hoseok let out a breath and leaned back. “Oh, so you're serious serious.”

   You looked over at him, raising a brow. “What?”

   “Well, usually I just leave you to mope on your own, but your moods have never lasted this long. That means something is actually bothering you, and as your best friend, it's my duty to figure out what it is and help you overcome it.”

  “I'm not even in a mood.”

   “Your face would tell me otherwise, but I guess you can lie if that helps you sleep at night.”

   You frowned, flushing despite yourself. Hoseok, like you, was slowly making his way further up the ladder when it came to music production. He had started working in the choreography sector before swiftly deciding that he wanted to try his hand at music production. His close relationship with Min Yoongi had helped him bag a position as an apprentice in Bangtan Studios, meaning he spent the majority of his time shadowing Yoongi, learning all the nicks and tricks that came with producing music.

    The two of you had met after having a spontaneous race up the stairs one morning, induced purely by the boredom that came with being apprentices in a place full of busy professionals who refused to look away from their work for more than two seconds.

    “So are you gonna tell me what's wrong?” Hoseok continued. “It's not the chemicals in the water, is it? That hasn't even been confirmed yet, so I wouldn't worry too much about it.” Even as he said it, he tossed his plastic cup of water into the bin beside him.

   You shook your head. “I don't care about the water, Hoseok.”

  “Then what is it?”

   You raised a brow, tilted your head forward as if to say you really don't know? It took Hoseok only a few seconds to catch on to what exactly it was you were trying to get across – he knew this one. You had complained about this very matter a grand number of times already, and all Hoseok had to do was jog his memory back a little bit further, until-

   “Oh my god, it's Namjoon again, isn't it?” he exclaimed, a little louder than you were comfortable with.

   The cafeteria remained bustling and loud, with barely anyone shooting a glance in your direction, but you scrambled over the grey table nonetheless, slamming your hand against Hoseok's mouth. You loved the man to bits, but he had a habit of getting a little bit too overexcited over matters that most definitely were not exciting.

   Well, not exciting to you.

   “Would you be quiet?” you hissed. Hoseok grinned against your palm, his brown eyes growing wide as he tugged your hand away from his mouth.

  You sighed and slumped back in your chair. “Yes, it is Namjoon again.”

  “Oh, this is good,” he said. “I haven't heard news on Namjoon in ages! I thought he'd disappeared somewhere.”

   “You see him everyday.”

  “I thought your feelings for him had disappeared.” He raked his eyes over your body. “But clearly that isn't the case. What's gone on?”

  You pursed your lips, looking up at the top table where all of the big producers always sat during lunch hours. You were surprised to see Yoongi sitting in front of Shi Hyuk, considering he usually just bought his food and headed back to his studio. But of course, Namjoon had remained on brand and was no doubt still locked away in his own studio with little care to the fact that he needed to fuel his body every few hours.

    “Nothing too major,” you finally replied.

   “Did he finally admit his undying love for you?”

   “Absolutely not.”

   “Did you accidentally spill coffee down his shirt and he kissed you to tell you it was okay?”

  “No.”

   “Did he-”

  “He paid for my coffee this morning.”

   Hoseok fell silent. It was like the entire world had gone silent, leaving only the echo of your words to ring back into your ears. You winced at how cheesy they sounded – you really were coming off as a girl with a high school crush, but there was nothing you could do about it. That was what had happened, and it had affected you a whole lot more than you were willing to admit.

   At least, to anyone but Hoseok.

   The dancer blinked, staring at you. “Please say sike.”

  “I'm serious,” you said. “I showed up at his door this morning, just like I do every day, and he saw that I hadn't gotten myself a coffee, so he gave me a tenner to buy my own.”

   Hoseok's eyes popped open, his hands clapping against the table. “A tenner? A coffee can't be more than £4!”

   “That's what I said!” you exclaimed. “But he told me to get myself something to eat as well, and then whenever I refused to take the money-”

  “You fool. Have I taught you nothing?”

  “-he kind of grabbed onto my coat and pulled me into him so he could put it in my pocket himself.” You flushed, biting on your lower lip. “Then he tried offering me a lift to the coffee shop, but I panicked and left the room before he could finish his sentence.”

   Hoseok scoffed. “Of course you did. I expected nothing less from you.”

  You groaned, burying your face in your hands as the final strands of dignity were snipped away at your confession. Hoseok would never judge you – at least not seriously – which made talking about the situation a lot easier, but you remembered the way you had fled from the room, the way you had all but gawked at him whenever your faces were inches apart. You had made a complete fool of yourself. If Namjoon hadn't been aware of your crush on him before, then he most certainly did now.

      “Look, it's not that big of a deal,” Hoseok chuckled, reaching over and laying a calming hand on your arm. “You know how Namjoon gets – he starts a project, and he forgets everything else. I bet you anything he hasn't even thought twice about how you acted. He probably doesn't even care.”

   “The word probably is really giving me anxiety right now.”

   Hoseok squeezed your arm, prompting you to look up at him. His brown eyes were comforting, a small smile gracing his features, but it did nothing to soothe the bubble of panic still stirring in your stomach.

   “He's gonna think I'm crazy.”

   Hoseok rolled his eyes. “As if he doesn't think that already. Now, chin up. You have a full day of work to do today, and it's not gonna do you any favours to be moping around whilst you do it.”

    Despite yourself, the fatigue nipping at your bones, the embarrassment still prominent on your face, Hoseok was right. Namjoon was still in his office working hard, so you would do the same.

   You would leave the past in the past, and you would get stuff done.

   +

   “For fucks sake! No, no, no!”

   CRASH.

   You closed your eyes as if that alone could block out the sound of the box tumbling down the stairs behind you.

   The lifts just had to be broken today – the day that you had been assigned to drag boxes upon boxes of tech equipment up to the top level of the damn building.

    You had succeeded with three of the seven boxes, but the fourth one had caused you trouble. It was going to Yoongi's office, meaning it was top of the range, expensive stuff. Whilst Namjoon and Bang Shi Hyuk could sometimes make do with the odd cheap pair of headphones, or a second hand speaker, Yoongi refused to use anything that wasn't top of the market.

    And you had just dropped his top of the market equipment down an entire flight of metal stairs.

    You waited with bated breath, trying to fight back the tears of frustration which were quickly making their way to the surface. The hallways above were quiet. If you wished hard enough, maybe you could convince yourself that nobody had heard the boisterous crashing that came when hundreds of pounds worth of equipment was all but tossed over a railing.

   But of course, you hoped in vain.

   Shi Hyuk stuck his head over the railing above, looking down at you with a raised brow. Bang Shi Hyuk was one of the older producers, meaning it had always been a little difficult for you to form a bond with him. He spoke like a wise old man, but not in the same way Namjoon did. Namjoon was philosophical, had insight into the most random of things. With Namjoon, you could listen to him for ages.

   Bang Shi Hyuk spoke like an old man in the way that he was very stubborn with his views, often refused to get with the times. Meaning it never made him feel guilty to speak to people below him with a little bit of disrespect here and there.

   Especially assistants who had only been working there for a year and a half.

    “What did you just do?” was the first thing he said.

   You bit your lip, forced yourself to look up. Perhaps you could grab a bit of his respect if you looked him in the eyes as you admitted your mistake. “Uh . . . The lifts are broken and. . .” You trailed off, genuinely unable to finish your sentence with him looking at you with eyes made entirely of fire.

    His grip visibly tightened on the railing he was leaning over. “Please tell me it wasn't Yoongi's stuff.”

   “Uh...”

  “That was the most important box we ordered!” Shi Hyuk suddenly exclaimed. You flinched at his rise in volume, looking away as if his words had somehow slapped you in the face. “God, it's not like your job is difficult! We ask you to do one simple thing, and you somehow manage to mess that up as well!”

   “It was an accident! The boxes are heavy, and-”

   “Oh, the boxes are heavy, are they?” He clenched his jaw, shaking his head slowly. “Wanna know why they're so heavy? Because they cost this company thousands! And you've just chucked them down the stairs as if it's nothing more than a damn ragdoll!”

  “That really wasn't what happened,” you said quickly. “If you'll just let me explain-”

  “If I wasn't such a nice guy, I'd be giving you a bill for that equipment right now,” Shi Hyuk growled.

    You opened your mouth to respond, terror flooding through you – he had said that equipment had cost thousands. Though your wages were decent, there was no way in hell you'd ever be able to pay off a bill that high.

    “What's going on?”

   You slammed your mouth shut, the voice ringing through the hallways loud and clear. There was a sense of relief that came with it as you realised that you now had Namjoon to help you in this situation, but there was also a stirring feeling of absolute despair.

  Honestly, you just wanted to be alone right now.

   “One of the assistants managed to drop Yoongi's equipment down the stairs.”

  “The expensive one?”

  You cringed as Bang Shi Hyuk nodded.

   Namjoon's face appeared over the side of the railing, his eyes immediately meeting your own. You bit down on your bottom lip, tried your hardest to give him a small wave that might mean something if there wasn't a pool of tears currently taking perch in your waterline.

   Namjoon's features softened when he saw you. “I'm sure it was an accident.”

  “Accident or not, that's a good thousand pounds down the drain,” said Shi Hyuk. “Yoongi isn't gonna be happy.”

   “Yoongi will understand,” Namjoon said, giving you a smile. “Y/N, why don't you come up to my studio? I'll send someone down to pick up the stuff downstairs.”

   You faltered, brows furrowing in confusion. Even Bang Shi Hyuk looked startled at the offer, swivelling around to look at his co-worker with wide eyes.

   “Are you serious?” he exclaimed.

   But Namjoon didn't entertain him with a response. He instead kept his eyes on you, making it clear that he wasn't joking, that he expected a reply.

   Your hands were trembling, you realised. The noise of the box falling down so many stories, the knowledge that you had every reason to be fired right now, the sound of Bang Shi Hyuk screaming to the high heavens had left you startled. You couldn't think of a better remedy than sitting in Namjoon's studio and listening to the soft music he always had playing through his speakers.

   So despite Shi Hyuk's clear disapproval for the arrangements, you slowly made your way up the stairs. Namjoon wrapped an arm around your shoulders, waved loosely to his boss before he led you down the halls to his studio.

   “You didn't have to stick up for me, you know,” you said as Namjoon kicked the door closed behind him. “I know I messed up.”

   Namjoon shrugged. “Everybody messes up here and there. I don't think you did it on purpose.”

  “I didn't. Yoongi would have my neck if I just tossed his stuff over the railings.”

   “See? That's why I'm not gonna sit here and scream at you for it. You clearly feel bad.”

   Namjoon's arm fell away from your shoulders. He made his way over to the corner of the room, and you watched as he rummaged through a box filled with loose nick nacks – most of it consisted of old figurines he had taken down from his shelves and replaced with others, though he shoved past all of them and pulled out a thin pink blanket.

   He turned, didn't say anything as he wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, not allowing you to protest. You wouldn't have protested anyway. The blanket smelled like his studio, a scent you had become increasingly familiar with over the past year and a half. You nuzzled into it, knotting your hands in the front to wrap it around yourself a little tighter.

   Namjoon slumped down in the chair in front of his computer. “You can sit down if you want.”

   Hesitantly, you did just that. You took the spinning chair next to his own, brought your knees to your chest – and then the room fell silent.

   The only thing you could hear was the clicking of his mouse, the small grunts of frustration he made whenever a certain bar wasn't working with the rest of the beat he had conjured up. With any other person, perhaps this type of silence would have been awkward, but it was different with Namjoon. Everything was a little different with Namjoon, as if he somehow managed to alter reality to make the person he was with a little bit more comfortable with their surroundings.

   Or maybe it was just him. Maybe it was just the aura he brought along with him that had you melting into the chair, relaxing despite the tremble of your hands and the situation that had taken place only a few minutes prior.

     He always had an energy to him, a type of pull that was difficult to ignore whenever you were around him as often as you were. The energy radiated whenever he would run into the lobby with a tiny little creature nuzzled in the palm of his hand, or whenever he would smile at you when you made accidental eye contact, rather than just looking away before you noticed his gaze. It would radiate whenever he was simply seated in front of you, doing what he loved to do most.

     You didn't realise you were smiling until he glanced over at you with a raised brow.

   “Are you okay?”

   You nodded quickly. “Yeah. I'm fine. I was just – uh – What are you working on?”

   This question alone brought that energy out of him. He leaned forward, a grin forming on his features as he gestured for you to lean forward, too, just to get a better look at his monitor. You did just that, examining the blocks on the screen that you knew represented a different snippet of recording – you had wanted to produce music for as long as you could remember. You knew exactly what it was you were looking at, and it looked nothing short of complicated.

    “It's a bit of a personal project,” he said, running his fingers over the screen. “Do you wanna hear some of it?”

  “I'd love to.”

   Namjoon pressed 'play' on the recording, and immediately your breath was dragged from your lungs. From the very first note you were left wanting more, intrigued by the delicate pattern of instruments that he had managed to bring together to create something that was unlike anything you had ever heard before.

   It was soft. There was a slight undertone of raindrops beneath the main instruments. To anybody else, such a detail would have been overlooked, seen as useless as nobody truly pays attention to the undertones, but Namjoon clearly didn't care about that. He did what he thought was right. He added things he thought would strengthen his music without thinking about the audience who were going to be listening to it soon enough.

   He made music for himself before anybody else.

   Whenever Namjoon's voice started, you were fairly certain you were going to start crying. He was a rapper, always had been a rapper, but there was a certain wistfulness that came with his singing voice – a singing voice you had only ever heard on the odd occasion, and something he had never taken seriously. You often heard him joking around with Yoongi, singing with a high tone that was clearly meant for entertainment purposes only – but this was real. This held emotion, feelings you didn't know Namjoon possessed.

   He was always a deep man, always looking into things a little more than everybody else. But this song just proved to you that his mind was a lot more legendary than you had ever given him credit for.

   The song faded to a stop, the title 'FOREVER RAIN' appearing on the screen. You sniffled, wiped a hand over your eyes, unable to form words that could even begin to describe the emotions you were feeling right now.

   Namjoon watched you closely, a playful grin on his face. “Did you like it?”

  “Shut up.”

  He raised a brow. “Should I take that as a good response?”

  You groaned, covering your face. “Namjoon, that was fucking beautiful and you know it! You're just asking me so you can watch me get all flustered.”

   Namjoon chuckled, attempting to tug your hands away from your face. You span around in your spinning chair, refusing to let him see you get so worked up over something that he no doubt saw as so simple.

   But it wasn't. The words you had just heard were not simple. They were anything but simple, and they had tugged at your heartstrings more than any other song ever had.

   “You're making me nervous now,” said Namjoon. “Come on. Let me see your face.”

   “No. I hate you for making me feel like this.”

   “Like what? You haven't exactly given me a good explanation as to what you're feeling.”

   “Are the tears not enough?”

   Namjoon laughed loudly. “Are you crying?”

   You groaned again, finally letting your hands fall into your lap – there was no point in hiding it any more. Namjoon's eyes raked over you, his brows raising at the sight of the tears playing at your waterline. You sniffled, pouted.

   “Wow,” he drawled. “I didn't take you as the emotional type.”

   “I'm not. But that song was . . . It was beautiful, Namjoon. You really have a way with words.”

   This time, it was Namjoon's turn to flush. He grunted, looking down at his lap where his hands were busy tugging his rings on and off of his fingers.

    “Well, I did show you a pretty personal song to start off. Maybe that's my fault.”

   “Yeah, maybe.”

   He chuckled. And then he was reaching forward.

    You caught the slow movement of his hand only seconds before his palm was resting against your cheek. His soft flesh was pressed against your own, the pad of his thumb wiping lazily at your cheekbones to rid you of the tears which had now started falling of their own accord. Your breath escaped you in a matter of seconds, body going rigid under his touch. You wanted to lean in to him, wanted to feel his warmth like you had only felt once before – that day, whenever he had dragged you into him with the most innocent of intentions, but had somehow managed to make you dash from his office a flustered mess.

   But this touch was nothing innocent. It wasn't sexual, either, but some weird in between that had your stomach erupting with butterflies. The need to feel more only intensified with each passing second.

   You watched the moment Namjoon realised just what it was he was doing. His eyes widened, his cheeks reddening rose before his hand was flinching away from your face. He tucked it beneath his knees, as if lack of restraint would make him touch you again.

   You blinked, unsure of what to say or do in this situation. Did you tell him it was okay? Because it was. It was more than okay. It was what you wanted, what you suddenly felt like you needed.

   Namjoon looked down at his lap, chewing on his bottom lip with clear nerves. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... That was awkward, wasn't it? You're probably so confused right now.”

  You nodded slowly. “I am . . . But I didn't think it was awkward.”

   His eyes shot up. “Hm?”

   “It wasn't awkward,” you repeated, more confident this time. “I actually kind of liked it. It was comforting.”

   He nodded slowly, though it was clear he hadn't quite latched on to what you had just said.

    You sighed, reached forward and grabbed his hand, dragging it into your lap before you could talk yourself out of it. His fingers closed around yours as if on instinct, though the widening of his eyes did not go amiss. He didn't flinch out of your grip, though. He watched your trembling hands wrap around his own, did not look away.

    “It's okay to touch people, you know,” you said, smiling warmly.

   “I know that,” he replied, his Adams apple bobbing. “It's just a little different when it's you.”

   That drew you up short. In fact, you were fairly certain you hadn't heard him right.

   You leaned forward, narrowing your eyes. “Sorry?”

    If possible, Namjoon's cheeks grew an even brighter shade of red. He tried to lean back in his chair, but you tugged at his wrist and pulled him forward again.

   “Wait, you can't just leave it at that!” you exclaimed. “What did you say?”

   “It wasn't important,” Namjoon mumbled. “Look, I have an awful lot of work to get to, and-”

   “Why is it different with me?”

  He faltered. His shoulders slouched forward in defeat and he looked at you through the tops of his eyelids. He was silent for a moment longer before he said, “Because I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot.”

    You stared. Staring was the only thing you could do as you waited for your brain to catch up with the words Namjoon had just spoken – words that, once upon a time, you would have never seen coming out of his mouth. Not in regards to you, anyway.

   Namjoon pulled his hand from your grip and ran it through his hair, finally able to slump back in his seat. “You don't have to say anything. I didn't confess to put you on the spot.”

   You shook your head dumbly. You wanted to reply, wanted to pour out your feelings for him but it was as if your mouth had been stuffed full of cotton balls.

   “I don't blame you if you don't want to talk to me again,” he said, adding a chuckle to soften the blow of his words. “I just hope this doesn't ruin your chances to do what you wanna do. Things don't have to be-”

  “Namjoon. Be quiet.”

   His lips zipped to a straight line.

  You leaned forward and pressed your hand against his cheek. He stiffened beneath your touch, but did not move away. Your thumb traced a careful pattern over his cheekbone, your eyes not once leaving his own.

    “Why are you so quick to assume I don't feel the same way?” you asked, voice light.

   Namjoon inhaled. “I just – I never thought a person like you could ever-”

  “Well, you're wrong.” You traced your thumb over his lips. He closed his eyes. “I like you too, Namjoon. I have for a very long time.”

   “You're not just saying that, are you?” he whispered. “Because that's cruel.”   “Ask Hoseok,” you chuckled. “He can confirm that what I'm saying is definitely truth.”

   Namjoon breathed out a sigh of what you could only hear as relief before he wrapped his fingers around the arms of your spinning chair and tugged you closer to him. You giggled when he pressed his forehead against yours.

    “It's been a year and a god damn half, and we've only just now decided to tell each other this vital piece of information,” he grumbled.

   You smiled. “We're both pretty oblivious, huh?”

   “Is that why you ran out earlier on when I gave you the ten pound note?”

  You flushed. “I was hoping you'd forgotten about that.”

  “Not whenever you reacted so cute.”

  “Alright, that's cheesy.”

   “Can I just kiss you already?”

  “Please.”

  And then he kissed you in such a Namjoon way that you very nearly giggled. Everything about his personality was unpredictable, and yet you always knew his kiss would be like this – soft, gentle, as if he were afraid of somehow breaking you if he went in too eager. His hands rose from the chair and gently cupped your face, tilting your head just that little bit to allow him access that you would have granted him anyway; you just wanted more of him, the most he could possibly give you.

   When you pulled away, the room felt a little bigger, as if the tension had been drained, leaving behind space you didn't know was there in the first place.

   “You do realise that we're still gonna have to deal with Bang Shi Hyuk later,” you whispered, pressing your forehead back against his own.

   Namjoon huffed out a breath, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and tugging you into his lap. “He can wait. I've waited a year and a half for this.”