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junghelioseok · 4 years ago

Text

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,�� you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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mha-princess · 4 years ago

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Don’t Let Me Be | Bakugou x Reader

Genre:Angst | Tea Shop AU | stranger to lovers | Oneshot/Ongoing | eventual smut

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: mentions of depression/sadness/sickness

Summary: as the seasons change you stand at the counter unmindful and aloof, but when a boy enters the shop you cease your boredom and take his order. But every second he draws. closer an overwhelming sadness fills the room. Interested by him to try your best to befriend him a figure why this boy is so sad.

A/N: just like my previous oneshots if you would like me to continue this story a comment, reblog, or a like is appreciated! ⁍̴̆◡⁍̴̆ )⊃♡- Anako

Song recommendation for this fic - Song Request by Lee Sora

The faint scent of boiling herbs filled the small oak shop as the last reminants of winter faded away outside of its wooden walls. A slow somber ballad flowed from the small speaker at the back of the shop, filling the space with a indescribable melencholy. The transition from winter to spring was always a weird one? It was almost as if the weather dictated your mood.

Well whatever it was your shift was going by unspeakably slow. But to be fair it wasn’t all that bad, the tea shop provided a very calming setting to cope with the ever changing ordeals of life. The shop was never empty but it was never unbearably busy either. On occasion a couple would sit and have a cuppa but most of the time people ordered their teas to go.

The door of the old shop is pushed open with minimal force, the ringing of the bell shifting your attention to the direction of the sound. In lumbered a boy, his clothes baggy and oversized as if he were trying to fend off the dying cold, his hair colored a light blond creating a perfect contrast to his red irises, and the expression on his face unclear due to the the scarf wrapped firmly around his neck slightly covering his mouth.

“How may I help you today?” you question, grabbing ahold of a sticky note to take down the order.

The boy’s eyes gloss over the menu before he responds, his voice muffled by the scarf. “I’d like to have a chamomile tea.”

“Sorry,” you shake your head, “can you repeat that for me?”

He hesitates before pulling the scarf down. “Can I have a chamomile tea?”

“For here or to go?”

“Uh,” he glances around the shop before going back to looking off to the side, “here is fine.”

“Your total is five dollars and eight cents, you can sit wherever and I’ll bring you your tea when it’s ready. Can I get your name?”

“Katsuki,” He answered, handing you the exact amount of change before walking off to find a seat.

As you dip the tea bags into the steaming kettle, the once transparent water slowly turns a dark green. You then advert your attention from the tea to the boy who had just entered the shop.

He’s seated by a glass window, his shoulders slumped and his arms appeared to be wrapped in a cris cross form around his stomach as if the abundance of clothes weren’t keeping him warm enough. His eyes were glued to the outside scenery, which in your opinion wasn’t very pleasant.

The trees still weren’t fully resurrected from the harsh winter, a months worth of snow was just now succumbing to the rising (yet still low) temperatures, and the wind tumbled the streets litter up and down the cracked sidewalks. Why would that be captivating to anyone?

The kettle whistles indicating that the tea is done. With caution you pour the tea into a porcelain cup top it off with mint leaves and plate it on a saucer. Carefully you walk over to the table and set the tea infront of the unmindful boy.

“Order for Katsuki,” You state, pushing the saucer towards the boy but he still doesn’t notice your presence. Involuntarily you let your hands reach out to tap his shoulders. The male inhaled sharply as if you had just caused him physical pain. Startled by the noise he just made his eyes find yours to see if he had scared you any but he quickly looks away, unable to make eye contact.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“No im sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t think you heard me the first time, which is fine.” you smile softly, looking around the shop to see if there were and unsuspecting customers, “Would it be a problem if I sat with you? Buisness is kind of slow today.”

He shrugged before allowing himself to nod yes. Upon sitting down you were able to get a closer look at his features. His lips were chapped, molded into what seemed to be a frown and the underside of his eyes seemed to be a light shade of gray.

Your eyes follow his movements as he reaches out to grasp the handle of the tea cup. As his fingers slip from the cuff of his hoodie you notice that his hands appear to be covered in this scratches and welts. His fingertips were also lined with callous skin.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” You warn, watching the boys lip curl to blow the liquid. After taking a sip he sets the cup down and looks out the window once more. It’s was clear that if you wanted a conversation you’d have to try harder.

“So how’d you hear about this place? You look pretty young and people like us don’t come here often.” You smile turning your gaze towards the window. The boy swallows before answering your question.

“I use to live in the neighboring city. I moved here not too long ago but a lady used to tell me about it. She-,” the boy pauses, “ She always wanted to visit here.” His voice drawn to that of a mere mutter as he finishes his statement.

“Does she not live around here?” you question.

“Something like that,” The sullen look on his face growing even sadder as his arms go back to caressing his sides. You had clearly just unintentionally hit a nerve. You refrain from asking anymore questions, and just sit and watch the rain drops pitter across the window sill. The musical ballad filling the silence between you too.

“It’s raining again outside the window. These moments make me think of you. I can’t sleep. This silence and the melancholic sound of my heart fill the room. Making me go crazy. So I turn up my radio. Somewhere, I hear someone’s voice. And on the radio. That sad story is so much like my own.”

As the hour fades and closing time nears the boys eyes never move from the window. And the longer you looked at him the more you felt a solace form in your heart. An overwhelming sadness had you firmly seated, unable to leave. Maybe it was the clothes he wore that were clearly there for comfort or maybe it was the way his eyes told a sorrowful story.

In a last ditch attempt to get the boy to talk to you, you dish one more question. “Do you think you’ll come back sometime? Like it doesn’t have to be tomorrow or anything, I just think it’ll be nice for us to have some tea when I’m not on the clock then maybe we can go to a bakery or something, since your not familiar with this town? I could show you around.”

The boys sits firmly in the seat, his eyes still glued to the window. His expression never changing.

“You don’t have to answer right now.” you add, “It was just a suggestion.”

The boy turns and gives you nod he then reaches into his wallet to leaves you a tip, before rising to leave. He mumbles a quick thank you before exiting the shop.

“What could have someone that out of it?” You question grabbing the cup of green liquid. “He didn’t even drink much of his tea.”

“That tea was damn disgusting.” Katsuki says caressing the matte photograph. The picture showcasing two people,there’s a older female, smiling her hand placed on a younger boys head whose looking at the camera in distain. The once matted photo slowly becoming glossy with the tears of its beholder.

“You old hag. We were suppose to go to that shop as a family.” he choked, the saltiness of tears entering his mouth.

“If you don’t get well soon, I’ll lose it,” he sobs clenching the photo between his fingers.

“I’ll lose it.”

Masterlist | Request Rules | Request Box

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #anime #bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #eventual smut #angst #mha princess #bakugou drabble

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yoontopia · 4 years ago

Text

𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: detective au; fluff, a smidgen of angst, childhood friends to lovers

rating: 18+ (mentions of assault, domestic abuse and suicide; minor character death, serial killers are mentioned, minor mention of alcohol and weapons, most likely an inaccurate portrayal of policework)

word count: 7.7k

summary: when a case forces you to re-visit your hometown, you’re also forced to re-visit your past and one particular jeon jungkook, your childhood friend, and the man you’d fallen in love with -- while he’d been been engaged to someone else.

author’s note: whew this is me coming back to writing for the first time in a WHILE. happy (belated) birthday jungkook! I’m sorry for being 8 days late T_T

The first thing you do when you get into work is make coffee. The lieutenant has recently invested in a rather pricey looking coffee machine after giving the entire team a loud and exasperated lecture about “leaving the precinct to take too many coffee breaks”. You can’t say that you complain about this new arrangement.

The second thing you do when you get into work is check the files on your desk. It is when you’re rifling through these, a mug of steaming black liquid next to you, that your partner slaps another folder on your desk.

“What is this?” you ask, looking up at his tired demeanour. Min Yoongi is an excellent detective, but talent and success come at a price. You don’t think the man has ever gotten a good night’s rest.

“A 16-year old girl found murdered by the piers in Busan,” Yoongi says, pulling the chair from the empty desk next to you and subsequently collapsing in it. “The fishermen found her early this morning.”

“Busan?” you ask, the name of your hometown heavy on your tongue. “What business does that have with the Seoul Major Crimes Unit?”

“It becomes our business when you see how she was killed.” Yoongi states, leaning forward and flipping open the file for you. You look down at the medical examiner’s report, light finally shedding on your situation.

“Legs and hands tied with plastic cable ties, throat slashed, face carved into a permanent mangled grin – its Him. The age and description of the girl match with his previous victims and Busan PD asked us to come down since we’re handling The Joker’s case.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “What did I tell you about enabling him?” Yoongi shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

You stare back down at the photos of the crime scene, your brain trying to piece together the information. This particular serial killer – nicknamed The Joker by the general public for the way he dismembered his victims’ faces – had been at large for a couple years now and had murdered five young girls. Well, you muse, the count is up to six now.

“He’s never struck outside Seoul before,” you murmur. In your periphery, Yoongi nods, taking a sip out of his own coffee. “This is so out of his way. Are we sure its not a copycat?”

“I considered that,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “The lead detectives in charge of this case want us to check it out and see if we can figure out of it’s the real deal. If it is The Joker, the case is ours anyway.”

“I know some cops in Busan,” you say, closing the file. You had grown up there and worked there before transferring. “Who’s in charge?” Yoongi stares at you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper with names scribbled on it.

“Let’s see—the man who called this morning – a Kim Taehyung – do you know him?” You blink.

“Yeah, we-we went to college together,” you say, your voice suddenly hushed.

“Aw that’s cute, a little reunion,” Yoongi grins but then studies your expression. “Is it not a happy occasion?”

“No no,” you laugh weakly. “Taehyung is fine – great actually! He’s good at what he does too. I’m grateful he’s in charge of this one.”

“Great, we leave tomorrow first thing,” Yoongi says, electing to ignore your high voice and nervousness. “I got us KTX tickets for the first train out.”

You nod, swallowing. Kim Taehyung isn’t the problem, it’s who he’s partners with that has your stomach in knots.

Your train pulls into Busan at a very early hour that even coffee can’t fix. You heave your duffel bag over your shoulder and wait for Yoongi to grab his before stepping off onto the platform. Yawning, you look around.

The dawn has left behind a slight fog around the city and the morning October air has a slight chill in it. You haven’t been back in Busan since the day you left, some two years ago. Your parents had moved to Seoul recently, taking with them the only reason you’d ever have to visit this seaside city.

Yoongi hops off the train next to you and looks around. He’s a Daegu native, but knows this city like the back of his hand.

“I booked us a hotel near the crime scene,” is the first thing he says.

“That’s not morbid at all,” you chuckle, and he rolls his eyes. “But first I’m guessing we head straight to the precinct?” Yoongi nods and the two of you opt to share a cab instead of taking the public transport.

Before you know it, you’re getting off at the police department. Two officers at the entrance have been alerted of your arrival and show you the way. Yoongi shoots you a surprised look, but you grin back. Busan has always been known for its friendly and amicable citizens.

When you enter what is obviously the homicide department, Taehyung is the first person you see. He shouts your name from across the room, turning several heads, and bounces towards you like a golden retriever reunited with its long-lost owner.

“That is Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi asks and you’re not sure if he’s impressed or disappointed.

“Its so good to see you!” he says, a boxy grin painting his face. You take him in. Taehyung hasn’t changed much since college, but the dyed blonde hair he used to sport when he was younger has now been swapped for his natural black curls, which bounce every time he walks. “And you must be Detective Min, we spoke on the phone”

“Ah—yes,” Yoongi utters, thoroughly thrown off. You hide a smile.

“Come in, come in! Ah you can leave your bags by my desk for now.” The two of you do as you’re told, and Taehyung then leads you to a small conference room which holds a projector screen, a small round table, and a few chairs.

“I assume you’ve read the case file?” he asks and when you nod, he continues. “We haven’t had anything quite like this before – at least not during my career. I realize the two of you are the leads on The Joker right now, so any help you’re willing to provide is appreciated really.”

“Any new developments?” you ask, pulling out the file from your backpack. Taehyung hums before sitting down across from you.

“The toxicology report came back right as you arrived, I got a text from my partner,” Taehyung says, and you try to keep a straight face. “He’s over there right now he should be here soon, by the way,” You’re thankful that he doesn’t dwell on the topic for too long, most likely out of respect for you. “They found morphine in her system, so we’re inclined to believe that she was drugged before being tied up and killed. Your raise your eyebrows at this piece of information.

“The Joker doesn’t drug his victims.” You state. “They’re all very much awake when he ties them up and slashes their throats. The carved smile is always scratched in post-mortem.”

“Well there are inconsistencies then,” Taehyung says, running a hand through his hair. “All the wounds here were caused after he actually killed her – and that includes… whatever he did to her face.”

“So, we’re looking at a copycat.” You state.

“Or he’s changed his MO.” Yoongi adds.

“He hasn’t changed it for his first five victims what was special about this one that he had to drug her to knock her out first? No, this sounds like someone plotting murder and covering it up. Either way let’s explore all avenues.” You say.

“I agree,” comes a voice from behind you and you almost jump out of your seat. You turn to see the very person you’d been dreading running into since stepping foot on the platform this morning. Jeon Jungkook walks in, two cups in his hands, setting one down in front of Taehyung. He leans over to shake hands with Yoongi, giving you a mere side-glance. He sits down across from the two of you and takes a sip of his drink. Distractedly, you wonder if its coffee – as far as you know he was never a big fan.

The again, you muse, you’re not sure you really know him anymore.

There’s an awkward sort of silence and Yoongi’s body language tells you he’s noticed something’s off. Taehyung clears his throat.

“I’m assuming the two of you will want to check the crime scene out?”

“And the body.” You add. Taehyung nods and stands up.

“Do you want to split up or do both together?” You look at Yoongi.

“Together,” the two of you say at the same time. Yoongi’s smiling. You smile back.

Getting into the back of Taehyung’s sleek black SUV, you watch Yoongi jump in from the other side, dark hair slightly tousled from trying to get some sleep on the train. He’d been your partner for the entirety of your career with the Seoul PD. The two of you had started as rookie cops and had spent the first few months catching small-time criminals. Yoongi was easy to work with, and you’d found a fast friend in him, being alone in a big, unfamiliar city. You closed cases like no one else and before you knew it, the two of you were promoted to Major Crimes as detectives. The Joker was one of your first cases and it was a real thorn in your side that you hadn’t managed to catch the bastard yet.

Jungkook gets in the passenger seat next to Taehyung. He hasn’t so much as addressed you yet, except for agreeing with your previous statement. You had expected as much. He’s still sipping on his drink. Taehyung is talking to one of the officers by the main gate and you take this time to really take in Jungkook’s appearance.

He hasn’t changed – gotten broader maybe. His hair is slightly longer, falling into his eyes. His ears are still pierced in multiple places, although right now he’s only wearing simple rings in both ears. He’s wearing a dark sweatshirt, which you recognize is from the Busan Police Academy as you own the same one. His right hand is littered with tattoos you can’t make out, and they disappear into his arm. That is new and you wonder when he got them done. Unable to help yourself, your eyes travel to his left hand, his ring finger. You’re surprised to find it empty. The last time you saw him, there was definitely a ring there. It was the last time you were in Busan. You haven’t returned since.

“Did Namjoon text you?” Yoongi’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. You look at your partner distractedly. “He said he was going to.”

“Oh, I haven’t checked.” You mutter, before pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. There is an unread message, surely enough from your co-worker.

“Yeah he says Holly’s fine,” You tell Yoongi, scrolling through the message. “He was a little shy last night but seems to have taken a liking to Joon.” Yoongi heaves a sigh of relief. Yoongi was also your roommate back home, and his dog meant more to him more than anything else. You secretly were also extremely fond of the little brown poodle. “He says he’ll send pictures later.” Yoongi scoffs at that.

“He better, I do not trust that man with our dog.” Yoongi says and you smile at his wording. Holly was definitely Yoongi’s dog, you had just moved into his apartment when he was in need of a roommate to help cover the rent. It was so easy to be platonically domestic with Min Yoongi.

“Why didn’t you just leave him with your brother?” you ask, putting your phone away, looking out through the window to see if Taehyung is done.

“Geumjae’s in Daegu for my Mom’s birthday.” you turn to Yoongi in surprise.

“It’s your Mom’s birthday and you’re here?” you ask in surprise. Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe we should stop in Daegu on the way back.”

“I considered it,” he says. “If we have time.”

“I’d like to meet her.” You say warmly.

Jungkook clears his throat and you look at him, having forgotten he’s in the car too. He’s about to say something when Taehyung opens the door and gets in on the driver’s side.

“Sorry,” he says. “We have another ongoing case.”

“It’s not a problem,” Yoongi says. “You could’ve just left us to go do all this by ourselves.”

“No this case takes precedent for us too,” Taehyung says, starting up the car. “Plus, we’re here to help you if you ever need anything.”

The rest of the drive is silent, but its an almost-comfortable type of silence. You look out the window, taking in the familiar streets from your younger years. Nothing really has changed but then again, two years isn’t a long time at all. Or maybe it is. You’re not sure anymore.

“You say she was found near Haeundae?”

“Near the Haeundae market, yes.” Jungkook answers, surprising you. “She hadn’t been in the water and no water was found in her lungs, so she wasn’t drowned. No blood or signs of struggle in the surrounding area meaning she was killed elsewhere and brought to the market. We aren’t sure why this particular location was chosen--”

“The killer wanted her to be found,” you say, your voice soft, cutting him off. “The markets open before anything else. Everyone who lives here knows that.” Jungkook turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since he’d walked into the conference room.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I think so too.”

“ID?” Yoongi asks, and either he’s pretending not to feel the tension in the car, or he doesn’t notice it. Knowing Yoongi, it’s probably the former.

“16-year-old Park Sohee,” Jungkook says, turning back to look at the little black notebook he has open. “Attended high school in Haeundae, grew up in the area too.”

“Have you spoken to the parents?” You ask.

“Yesterday,” he replies. “She was on the swim and dive team at school. Had excellent grades and many friends. A popular kid. Parents say she had no enemies, and no boyfriend, and wasn’t involved in anything ‘bad’.”

“Yeah well a parent is always going to say that,” you muse. “Have you spoken with her school? Friends? Swim coach?”

“Not yet. We waited for you.” You nod at that.

“I’d like to see the body after this if that’s okay. Yoongi can go talk to the school.” Yoongi nods beside you.

“Sure, one of us can go with you and the other can go with Detective Min.” Taehyung says, pulling up near the fish markets. You step out of the car, the smell of fish immediately overpowering you. You wrinkle your nose and look around. The market is exactly the same as you remember it. The familiar stalls selling everything from fresh produce to seafood to small trinkets and jewelry. It isn’t too busy right now considering it’s a weekday, which means you can look around easily.

“Nostalgic?” Jungkook asks stepping in beside you. You smile slightly.

“Only a little,” you answer him. “We used to come here a lot.”

“I still do to be honest,” he jokes. “The naengmyeon here is unrivalled.”

“Still?” you ask surprised, and he nods.

“Have some while you’re here,” he says, tossing his now empty cup in the nearby trashcan. “I know you like it.” He’s looking at you once again looking like he wants to say something. You understand, there are so many words left unsaid between you after all. You’re not sure you want to open that door though. Jungkook has always worn his heart on his sleeve.

“Over here,” Taehyung motions from some distance away and the two of you make your way to him. Yoongi is already standing there and he hands you a pair of gloves. Pulling them on, you lift the yellow police tape to make your way to the scene.

“They found her in front of this stall, on her back.”

“On display,” you say, kneeling near the chalk outline of the body. “Killer wanted us to see her face and neck.” You looked up at Jungkook and Taehyung, who were looking at you in confusion.

“It’s another inconsistency,” you say, standing up. “The Joker’s victims are all found face down. This guy totally didn’t do his research considering he was trying to be a copycat.”

“He wanted us to see the slashed throat,” Yoongi says. “He’s an amateur at this.” You nod.

“The cause of death was the morphine, I’m guessing. The wounds were all inflicted post-mortem”

“She had no other inflictions,” Jungkook says. “You can look at the tox screen when we go see the body and talk to the M.E. too.”

“Who found her?”

“A couple fishermen,” Taehyung reads off his notes. “Time of death is approximately 3-4 AM and both their alibis check out, they were out on the docks ready to head out.”

“I say we tell the press we’re convinced it’s the Joker,” you say, taking off your gloves and pocketing them.

“I agree,” pipes up Jungkook.

“Detective Min, if you can come with me to go talk to the family,” Taehyung says to Yoongi and then turns to you. “Go with Jungkook to see the body,” he says. You nod hesitantly, half-hoping it would’ve been the other way around. “We’ll drop you off on our way.”

Before you know it, you’re standing next to Jungkook outside the medical examiner’s office. Jungkook pushes the door open, letting you go through first.

“Hey Jin, I’m back,” he says and you hear a crash and a man appears from behind some shelves. He’s wearing a lab coat, dark hair disheveled. He looks at you.

“Oh, the detective from Seoul I’m guessing!” he says, his voice oddly melodious. “Kim Seokjin, MD.” You shake his hand, grinning and introducing yourself. You already like him.

“She wants to take a look at the body.”

“Of course, of course,” Seokjin says rushing around to the many shelves in the wall, popping one open and pulling out the body of Park Sohee.

You and Jungkook make your way towards it. You peer down at the young girl.

“The morphine is likely what killed her,” Seokjin says, watching you.

“She has bruises,” you say softly, staring at her abdomen. “Post-mortem?”

“No.” Seokjin replies. “She got those when she was alive. The coloring indicates they’re old.”

“Swimming and diving aren’t high contact sports,” you say. “Where did she get these bruises on her arms and chest?”

“You thinking domestic abuse?” Jungkook asks from behind you

“The parents said she didn’t have a partner. How did the parents seem?”

“Upset,” Jungkook starts, then stops. “You think the parents did this?”

“Just considering all options. Her team coach is also a possibility. I won’t know until we’ve checked all of them.” You look down at her again. “A pretty girl.” You say. “Can I have copies of the tox screen?”

“Sure,” Seokjin replies, walking over to his desk to print out a copy. “There isn’t much other than the morphine. An overwhelming amount.”

“Where would they get access to so much morphine?”

“No idea,” he says walking over and handing you the toxicology report, which you subsequently put in your bag. “But it was way over the lethal amount. The killer isn’t an expert on dosage. My guess? Someone who has no idea how killing works.”

You and Jungkook walk out of the building. The afternoon sun is peaking out, making you shed your jacket.

“You hungry?” he asks, and you realize you are. All you’ve had since arriving in Busan is coffee. “There’s a galbi place around here.”

He leads you around the corner into a small restaurant and you enter behind him.

“Jungkookie!” comes an excited voice and you see an elderly woman wearing a flowery apron making her way towards you. “It’s been a while!”

Jungkook grins at the woman and greets her politely and she ushers you over to a small table by the window facing the busy street. Handing you a menu, she smiles kindly at you.

“You’re a regular?” you ask.

“I used to be. It’s been a while honestly.”

You scan the menu, your mouth immediately watering.

“The dak-galbi here is unreal,” he tells you and you pretend to throw the menu away.

“Well how dare I eat anything else then!” Jungkook laughs, high and melodic. Its been a while since you’ve heard that laugh. “Let us split the dak-galbi. I also want rice.”

Jungkook gets up and walks over to the counter himself to give your order. You watch him, a small smile on your face. He collapses back in his seat, bringing over two glasses of water.

“So,” he says.

“What’s with the tattoos.” You blurt out, eyeing his hand. He stares down at it too.

“Wanted a change, I guess,” he says slowly. “Life was getting pretty dull around here.”

“So, you got inked,” you say grinning. He grins back.

“I’m happy this isn’t awkward,” he says after a while and you freeze. “I’m glad we can sit and talk like this still.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Me too.”

“About back then—” he starts, and you sigh. You want desperately to avoid this conversation but Jungkook, ever the straight arrow, has never liked underlying tension, and prefers everything laid out on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” you tell him, but he shakes his head vigorously.

“No, I am sorry,” his tone is firm. “I ruined our friendship, made everything weird and drove you away. I know I’m the reason you’ve avoided this place until now and even now you’re only here because you have to be—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt gently, and he halts mid-rant, his doe-like eyes wide. “Stop talking. I’m the one who’s sorry. I acted immature and it was me who ruined everything, not you. I didn’t come back because-because it hurt at first and then I didn’t come back because I thought you’d be happier without having to deal with me.”

“How could you think that?” He’s gripping the table, knuckles white. It makes the ink on his hand stand out even more. You see a sketch of a small rose, about an inch tall, right below his index finger, and bite your lip. “You were my best friend.”

“It’s different now,” you assure him, still staring at the rose. It’s staring back at you, a silent taunt. It brings up repressed memories you rather not face. “Things are different. I’m happy—in Seoul. Please don’t blame yourself for everything that happened. I wasn’t angry to see you, I was just worried you wouldn’t want to see me. I’m happy now and I’ve moved on from all that.”

“With Yoongi.” Jungkook says, and you’re not sure why he sounds so bitter.

“With Yoongi, yes,” you say. Yoongi’s your work partner and a steady shoulder when you need one. He’s your roommate and best friend. Seoul is lonely and even after two years of living there, he’s one of your only friends. But as soon as you say it, something in Jungkook’s expression shifts, like a door slamming shut. He sits back. “He’s the best partner anyone can ask for, and a damn good detective.”

Jungkook nods once, jaw clenched. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, your food arrives and you’re too hungry to think of much else.

After that, the two of you only make polite small talk. There’s no tension but you can’t help but feel like the wall that was crumbling has somehow repaired itself. Jungkook’s phone rings as he’s finishing his rice.

“Tae, hey,” he says, phone in his left hand as he eats with his right. You distractedly wonder why he doesn’t wear his ring anymore. “Okay sounds good. No, we can just walk to the station its only a couple blocks. Yeah man see you there.”

“They done talking to the school?”

“Yeah they’ll fill us in when we get there.”

“So, what’s the deal?” Yoongi asks, his lithe body curled up on the hotel armchair in your room. His room is next door, but the two of you had ordered room service for dinner. Empty bowls of jajangmyeon lie littered on the small side table next to him.

“The deal with what?”

“Detective Jeon,” You turn to Yoongi and fix him with a stare. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Nonsense,” you reply.

“You two have a history? It got seriously weird at times today.”

“No history—it’s the same as Taehyung, we attended the police academy together. Taehyung was a couple years ahead of us though.”

“And?”

“And I’ve also attended middle school and high school with Jungkook. He was my neighbour growing up.”

“Ah childhood friends,” Yoongi hums. “But what went wrong?”

“What makes you think something went wrong?”

“Because you left behind a perfectly good life here when you moved to Seoul? Because you never talk about these people? Before today I didn’t even know of them. And also, because you were absolutely dreading coming here.” You sigh, hating Yoongi’s astute personality.

“Jungkook found out how I felt,” You say quietly. “About him.”

“Oh.”

“While he had a girlfriend.”

“…Oh.”

“Who he was engaged to.”

“What the fuck,” Yoongi’s tone makes you giggle, relieving the pain a little.

“Obviously, he never felt the same way, but then things got so weird. It was like we could never go back to what was. Jungkook skirted around me, his girlfriend hated my guts, I had to avoid our whole friend-group because all of his friends were my friends. It felt claustrophobic.”

“So, you left.”

“Not exactly,” you say. “I wasn’t actively looking to run away, but when the option to move was presented to me, I hesitated way less than I originally would have.”

“And are you still in love with him?” Yoongi asks, voice casual.

“I don’t know,” you reply, thinking of the small rose tattooed on Jungkook’s hand. It’s easier to deny. “It’s been two years and as far as I know he could be married by now.”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Yoongi answers, like the detective he is. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “He was head over heels for Jangmi.”

“What a delicate name,” Yoongi muses.

“She was the delicate kind,” you agree. “Kind, pretty, gentle – just like her name—like a rose.”

“Every rose has its thorns though,” Yoongi says wisely. “He cares about you, you know.”

“Who?”

“Detective Jeon. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You’re such a romantic at heart Min,” You tease. Yoongi only smiles softly in return. “It doesn’t matter. Jungkook’s life is here and mine is in Seoul. After we wrap this case up, I probably won’t see him again. I’m happy with my life right now.”

“Maybe if you tell yourself that enough times, it’ll one day become the truth.”

“Anyway, go over what you saw with the victim’s school again.” You sit on your bed cross-legged, your go-to posture when you’re trying to focus.

“Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. Her swim coach is a well-respected man. Usually men in power take advantage of multiple people under them but none of the other girls in the team seemed out of sorts to me. Her teachers all spoke highly of her—she really did have excellent grades. It seemed she was friendly with everyone in her class and on her team. I’ve hit a block.”

“That’s frustrating.”

“The bruises you mentioned are bothering me,” Yoongi adds. “They don’t seem to have an explanation and the parents seemed surprised when we asked them about it.”

“Alibis for the parents?”

“Asleep at home,” he hums. “No way for us to check that. Sohee was on her way back from swim practice and when she didn’t show up at home at the regular time by 10pm her mother started worrying. They claimed they would call the police the next day, but of course it was too late.”

“They didn’t think their daughter not showing up at home was a cause for panic?” You ask. “It’s weird to me. She wasn’t the rebellious type, so this must not have been normal behaviour.”

“You’re set on the parents, aren’t you?” Yoongi grins, stretching his legs out.

“It’s just this feeling, I don’t even have an explanation for it.”

“A hunch.”

“Yes but no proof,” You grit your teeth in frustration.

It rains on your second day in Busan. You roll out of bed to the sound of the tell-tale pitter patter and groan. Getting ready and putting on the jeans from yesterday along with a black dress shirt, you hop around trying to tuck it into the waistband. There’s a knock on your door and you open it to greet Jungkook.

“Oh—hey,” he is not who you expected to be at your door so early in the morning.

“Your partner left your hotel info with Tae.” He says, curious eyes peering around your hotel room. You quirk a small smile and let him in. He sits down on the chair Yoongi was occupying last night.

“So, what’s up?”

“We found a suspiciously large amount of money in a savings account under Park Sohee’s name,” Jungkook is still looking around your room curiously and you don’t know why.

“Suspicious?”

“She was sixteen,” he says. “What’s a 16 year old doing with fifty million won?” Your eyes widen at the amount.

“Do her parents know?”

“We’re going down to see them now that’s why I’m here.” Jungkook stands up. “Where’s Min?”

“In his room probably. He’s not a morning person.” Jungkook blinks down at you.

“You two aren’t sharing a room?”

“Huh?” You pause mid-way of packing your backpack for the day. “Why would we?”

“Because… you’re together—wait what,” Jungkook looks so confused you almost find it adorable.

“What the fuck Jeon, we’re not together – not like that.” You say.

“B-but yesterday you said you’d moved on with him—”

“Yes, as partners – you know? The thing we do for work.” You’re trying not to laugh.

“B-but you own a dog together and live together.”

“We’re cops, Jeon, not billionaires. Rent in Seoul is atrocious, he’s my roommate. Also, Holly is Yoongi’s dog, not mine.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook hides his face behind his hands and sits back down. You’re laughing. “I’m sorry for assuming.”

“You know—you should ask Yoongi how Jung Hoseok is doing.” You say, grinning.

“Who?” Jungkook looks up.

“His boyfriend,” you’re trying hard not to burst back into giggles. “Lives in Gwangju on a temporary assignment. The guy whose room I’m technically renting out. They were roommates before getting together. When he had to move out for work, Yoongi needed someone to help cover the rent.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans, hiding behind his hands again. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say laughing. “Easy mistake to make… I think?” Jungkook is looking at you from in-between his fingers.

“So then, are you seeing anyone?” His direct tone throws you off. You turn to fully look at him, but a knock on the door interrupts you both.

It’s Yoongi, and he doesn’t look surprised to see Jungkook in your room.

“Taehyung texted me,” he says. “Detective Jeon,” he adds in greeting.

“Please,” Jungkook smiles, “call me Jungkook.” Yoongi raises both his eyebrows and looks at you in question and you’re trying to fight laughter once again.

The ride to the victim’s parents’ house is quiet. Taehyung drives and you spend the time pondering over Jungkook’s words from earlier. He’d been angry yesterday because he’d assumed you and Yoongi were together. You frown to yourself because nothing makes sense. Had he fallen out with Jangmi? But it’s not like Jungkook had ever thought about you as anything other than a friend. You remember his words from back then, loud and clear, and they come back to you now.

“I’m sorry.”

You remember his apologetic eyes, the glint of his wedding band; he had looked like a child who’d been told off. You hate that look, the pity staring down at you. But most of all you hate the fact that you’d been rejected before you’d even had a chance to explain. A mutual friend had let the cat out of the bag at a party, and Jungkook being Jungkook had confronted you right away. None of it had been on your own terms.

You’d brushed it off as a small crush, defence mechanisms kicking in, but things had never been the same afterwards. Jungkook had always been good at seeing right through you and he could tell you’d been lying about the depth of your feelings.

You clench your fist. Moving to Seoul had meant burying all this behind you, pretending none of it had happened, forgetting about Jungkook and how madly in love you’d been with him. You’d always been good at compartmentalizing, it’s what made you a good cop. You’d ignored everything for two years. Until now.

Yoongi calls your name, breaking you out of your reverie. You’re at Park Sohee’s home, but you can see from your seat in the car that the main door is ajar. Jungkook is already tossing you a vest which you hastily put on. He pulls out his gun and exits out the car. The three of you follow suit.

“Stand guard at the back, we’ll clear the house.” Taehyung tells you and you and Yoongi nod. The two of you position yourself near the backdoor. After about 10 minutes you hear Jungkook shout. The backdoor opens, and his head peeks out.

“Father missing, but we found his wife,” at your expression, he continues, “Dead, in the bathtub. Overdosed, it seems, in an apparent suicide. She left a note.” He holds up a piece of paper.

“Her husband, a nasty man, is our guy.”

“Where is he?”

“Taehyung is putting a trace on his credit cards and cellphone as we speak.”

You’re reading the note, disgust piling up inside you. Sohee’s father had been an abusive man, and she was planning on running away and going to the police. She sold some of her clothes and other belongs to earn money through the years. The mother, an abused woman herself was complicit in the crime but had been unable to handle the guilt.

“This man killed his daughter and is directly responsible for another woman’s death. We better find him.”

At that moment, Taehyung appears at the door.

“Got him, let’s go.”

“When we said he was amateur at this, I didn’t mean this amateur.” You say, staring at the balding man through the one-sided mirror.

“He panicked when his daughter threatened to go to the police and killed her in a fit of rage. Then he tried to cover it up.”

“Only a psychopath tries to copy other psychopaths.” Yoongi says behind you. Jungkook is in the interrogation room, dark jeans and a dark t-shirt on, looking like he’s going to strangle the living daylights out of Park Sohee’s killer. His arms are bare for the first time since you’ve been back, and you can see the black ink swirling all the way up and disappearing into his sleeve. They’re all little designs, instead of a cohesive piece, as though he got them done separately.

“When are you guys heading out?” Taehyung asks. “We should at least grab a drink before you go.”

“We managed to get in on a train this evening,” Yoongi says apologetically. “Duty calls back home.”

“We’re still going to stop in Daegu for the night to wish Yoongi’s mother a happy birthday.” You tell Taehyung. “Early morning tomorrow, we head back to Seoul.”

“That’s too bad,” Taehyung nudges you playfully. “We barely had time to catch up.” You smile slightly, still staring at Jungkook, who’s coaxing a confession out of the man. You can’t deny that you want to leave Busan as soon as possible, but somewhere deep inside your heart breaks.

Park Sohee’s father confesses not too shortly after that and the case is officially closed. Taehyung suggests a late lunch at a nearby restaurant as a final get-together before you and Yoongi have to leave in the evening. Jungkook doesn’t say much throughout the meal, only offering a distracted smile every now and then.

When the four of you are heading out Jungkook grabs your wrist.

“Can we talk?” he asks and you look over at Yoongi who gives you a small smile.

“I’ll meet you at the train station tonight then,” is all he says before pulling Taehyung away towards his car. Jungkook is still looking at you.

“Walk with me,” he says, and you do, falling into step beside him. “I think we need to clear up some misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings?”

“I broke up with Jangmi,” he starts and you’re genuinely surprised to hear that. “Actually—she broke up with me. It’s been over a year since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say carefully, hating yourself for the selfish happiness that blooms inside you. “What happened?”

“She left me for someone else,” Jungkook says, smiling lightly. He doesn’t look hurt. “Someone who can love her way more than I ever could.”

“That’s so not true,” you argue back. “You loved her.”

“I did,” he agrees, and you try not to wince. It’s harder to hear it than say it. “To an extent. When she left, I didn’t cry. In fact, I was barely upset, and I hated myself even more for that. But then Jangmi pointed something out that made me see things very clearly.”

“What was that?” you whisper. The two of you are standing beside Nakdong river now, cyclists and runners passing by you in the blink of an eye. The air smells fresh and cold, the rain having left behind a chill and bright blue sky.

“She pointed out that I was more upset when you moved away than I was when she told me there was someone else for her.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“Oh.” Is all you say.

“When I apologized yesterday, for ruining everything, I meant that I was sorry that I was so confused. My confusion and indecisiveness ruined everything. When everything became clear to me, you were already gone.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?” you ask, your voice still hushed.

“I tried,” he is being earnest now. “Your parents had already moved to Seoul, and I contacted Kim Jooyoung from school to see if she knew of your contact information, she was your best friend in college after all. All she had was a cellphone and a landline phone number, but it was worth a shot. When I called, your old roommate picked up and said you’d moved in with some guy. When I tried your cellphone, it was dead.”

“Oh I-I changed my number,” you say, your voice shaky. “I don’t even remember why now—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jungkook’s voice is urgent. “Before today I’d made peace with the fact that you were the one that got away. I could look you up using my connections but until today I was under the assumption you’d moved on. But you’re here now, by some miracle, if I can even call it that given the circumstances, but to me its too big of a coincidence to just pass up.”

You watch him quietly. He’s slightly out of breath and the wind ruffles through his dark hair.

“You never got to answer my question from earlier,” he says. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“N-no I’m not but—” You never get to finish your sentence because Jungkook is leaning in and crushing his lips to yours. His hands come up to rest on your shoulders, then your neck and then your cheeks, which he grazes with his thumbs. Once you get over your initial shock, you reach up to tentatively grasp his t-shirt on both sides. He tastes like the hot chocolate he had with his lunch. You feel his tongue tentatively swiping at you and you open yourself up to him. Immediately, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

After what feels like both, and eternity and a few short seconds, he pulls away. His lips are glistening and swollen and he’s out of breath.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, hands still cupping your cheeks. “Stay here.” Slowly, you pull away, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself.

“You’re asking a lot of me,” you start. “My entire life is in Seoul, Jungkook, I can’t just up and leave—”

“You just up and left Busan,” he says, and you freeze. Studying your sudden shift in expression, he hastily corrects himself, “I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong.”

“Jungkook,” you say, hoping you sound more patient than you feel. “Things are different now; I’m almost settled down in Seoul. I love Busan, I do, but I have no intention of moving back here. My family lives in Seoul now too and my lease with Yoongi isn’t even up, and I love my job, I wouldn’t dream to leave it.” Jungkook abruptly pulls away. “And I won’t ask you to leave Busan, I know how much you love it here.”

“Then what now,” he asks, a small smile on his face. “That’s it? You leave tonight and I never hear from you again?”

“I never said that,” you say softly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic is my middle name,” he mumbles, and you giggle. “Do you at least feel the same way?”

“Of course, I do,” you say. “Otherwise I’d have pushed you into the river by now for your advances. Give me some time to think things through alright?”

“But—”

“We have a case back home that needs us, I really do have to go back today. Yoongi’s visiting his family tonight and I’ve made him a promise to come along and they’re expecting me. I won’t go back on that.”

Jungkook is now silent, staring wordlessly at you.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

“Yes.” He answers. There’s no hesitation in his voice. You smile.

Six Months Later

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks. The party is in full swing, loud music almost drowning out his voice. He’s holding a cup of clear liquid in his hands and you doubt it’s water.

“Yeah it’s not a problem, I can watch Holly for the weekend.”

“I’ll drop him off on Friday then,”

“That’s fine! You and Hobi deserve the weekend away.”

“But it’s not a hassle for you? It’s your weekend off too,”

“Yoongi I’m not going to try and convince you to let me take care of your dog in the middle of Hoseok’s welcome-back-bash.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Hoseok slithers in next to you, tossing an arm around your neck.

“Yoongi’s worried about his dog,” you roll your eyes. “This has never happened before.”

“I’m not worried,” Yoongi seethes, making you and Hoseok laugh. “I just don’t want my dog being neglected because you and Jeon are copulating like rabbits all weekend.” Blood rushes to your ears and you grit your teeth.

“Jungkook’s going to be too busy this weekend for that, I promise you.”

“Oh yeah, has he found an apartment yet?” Hoseok asks conversationally.

“Yeah, he’s signing the lease on Friday, and then moving here over the weekend.”

“And he starts work on Monday?” You nod.

“The Organized Crime boys are gonna love him,” Yoongi grins. “Man will fit right in. Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him since you two arrived.”

“Right here Min,” Jungkook pops out of nowhere, a wide grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes. “What’s up?”

“Yoongi thinks we aren’t responsible enough to take care of his precious dog.”

“I believe the phrase he used was, ‘copulating like rabbits’” Hoseok chimes in unhelpfully. You elbow him in the stomach. Jungkook eyes you, grin fading a little and you recognize the dangerous spark in his eyes.

“Well he’s not wrong—” he starts, but is met by loud interruptions from you, Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Too much information!” Yoongi yells, downing his drink. “You two are disgusting! Lets go Hobi.”

Jungkook comes up to you, still grinning slyly and you automatically slip your arm around his waist.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” you ask, looking up at him. Jungkook has an arm around your shoulder as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Bit too late to ask me that, don’t you think babe?” You pinch his waist and he yells out loud. “I didn’t move to Seoul for you, I moved here for the job.”

“Ha. Ha,” you roll your eyes, but a part of you knows it’s partially true anyway. Long distance between Busan and Seoul hadn’t treated you too badly and things had been going surprisingly well. You were a good five months into your newfound relationship when there had been a sudden opening in the Organized Crime unit, a real step-up for Jungkook’s career. Jungkook had told you once he’d applied for the job that he’d have applied anyway regardless if you were in the picture or not, and you appreciated his honesty. Both of you had always been the type to put your careers first, but you couldn’t believe your luck that things had just fallen into place like this. You’re happy for him.

“Although having you here is a pretty sweet bonus,” Jungkook adds, making you smile. The two of you stand there in silence, arm-in-arm, enjoying the celebrations from afar.

#kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts #bts fluff #jungkook au #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts au #jungkook #writings #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook scenario #jjk

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anncanta · 3 years ago

Text

Veduta of Venice

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Zoe Van Helsing, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Zoe Van Helsing, Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Explicit

Veduta (Italian veduta - seen, view, picture, point of view) is a genre of Western European painting and graphics, especially popular in Venice of the 18th century.

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges @ladyhaley28 @dragatha @khyruma

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Or read below

The hotel was damp and cold, but the view was magnificent. Rising from the chair, Zoe wrapped herself tighter in a wide woolen scarf and went out onto a tiny balcony made of openwork stone.

As far as the eye could see, there was water ahead – pinkish, blue, green. Zoe had never seen so much water before. The water has never been so close. Leaning over the balcony railing, Zoe stared down at the low waves intersecting at odd angles.

Such a strange city. When she bought a tour at the agency, she was offered a choice – Verona or Venice. Zoe rejected Verona at once. And she looked at the glamorous, deliberately beautiful photos of Venice for a long time as if looking for something – either a crack in the ideal porcelain world captured on the image or ugly everyday flaws. In the end, she decided – she has nothing to lose.

The flight never seemed to end. The large iron bird seemed to hang in the sky forever, spreading its immovable wings and holding the half-asleep Zoe either in its paws or in a steel silver beak. When, to her surprise, the bird let her go, Zoe still had to get from mainland Italy deep into the archipelago. So she arrived at the hotel completely exhausted.

She burst into a spacious room that smelled of rain and prickly nights, dropped her suitcase on the floor, and stretched out on an obscenely wide bed.

And when she woke up, the sun, mother-of-pearl gray skies, and water looked out of her windows.

Zoe wasn't going to take a vacation. She worked hard and monotonously, with stubborn, dull dedication, unlike many of her workaholic colleagues – not for the sake of her own reputation and career, and not at all for show. The fact is that there was really nothing more in her life.

Zoe didn’t realize it right away. She just worked, day after day, not even always overtime. Like everyone else, she played bowling on Thursdays and had fun in pubs on Fridays. But when her friends and colleagues hurried home to their families at the end of a stormy evening Zoe, starting her old Renault, every time fought the temptation to return to the laboratory.

This went on for a long time. Months. Years. Until one day, on the eve of her fortieth birthday, Zoe realized that the desire to go back to work after a party with friends was her only temptation.

For some reason, this understanding frightened her so much that the next morning she was already sitting in the office of the head of the medical research center in which she worked, with an application for a vacation, and a week later – on a plane on her way to Italy.

Zoe straightened and looked at the bright scarlet sun sinking into the bay. Self-pity is not the best feeling to approach the second half of your life, she thought. Well, in general, she had nothing to feel sorry for herself. She was lonely – but she always had more or less enough of her own company, with the rare addition of a friend or two to chat with over the weekend. She did not have an impressive career – although many of her colleagues at the center, who discussed at tea the young doctor, who had managed to make several breakthrough discoveries by the age of thirty-five, could argue with this. Success in science is an unpopular success. Nothing to brag about. Zoe chuckled out of the corner of her mouth. And she had absolutely no idea what to do next, and for that matter – why all this was needed.

On the other hand, why not?

Would she have died of some kind of blood cancer, she would have made a sort of a romantic heroine, Zoe thought irritably as she closed the balcony.

At the foot of the building, somewhere far, far away, muddy water was rustling and foaming.

***

Zoe bought a complete tour, which included a full package of services, so she did not choose a hotel. Maybe if she did, she would spend time looking for something more comfortable and not so boring, she mused as she walked down to the restaurant for lunch. During the week and a half that Zoe spent here, nothing happened in the hotel that could conditionally pass for entertainment. Don't consider the other guests as such, she chuckled mentally. On the stairs and in the corridors, there were mostly gloomy gray-haired couples and girls of dubious appearance. Sometimes a jazz band played in the lobby in the evenings.

There wasn`t a soul to be seen in the bright and quiet hall – except for a tall man in black, sitting in the far corner at the piano. Leaning over the keyboard, the man absentmindedly fingered the keys, pulling out the notes one at a time. Zoe smiled at the metaphor that crossed her mind and turned around and headed there instead of the restaurant.

In the niche in which the piano was hidden, only one small lamp burned, giving a soft yellow-orange light. Falling obliquely on the keyboard and the lid, it snatched out of the half-light a man's back and shoulder, tightened in a classic black suit, the outlines of the profile and hands with large fingers.

Approaching, Zoe leaned on the piano and for a while, just stood listening to the music. Now, being near, she could finally understand what was wrong with this music – the stranger played skillfully and cleanly, but the melody, its very fabric, seemed... vulnerable and fragile as if the pianist was painfully remembering it or composing it on the go. Zoe watched as his hands gently touch the keys as if asking about something – and finding no answer.

‘You haven't played for a long time,’ she said softly.

‘Very long,’ he raised his head. For a moment, his face – beautiful, pale, with dark eyes and well-defined lips – remained relaxed. Then he brushed aside a straight strand of black hair that had fallen on his forehead and looked at Zoe. And then a strange expression appeared in his gaze – bewildered, amazed... looking. This happens with those who have met someone whom they have long lost hope of seeing. Zoe could bet that he was about to say something, but at the last moment, he resisted. He turned away again and continued to play.

‘My… teacher was pretty good,’ an ironic note slipped through his low voice, ‘but I'm afraid I’m lacking in practice. What do you think?’ The stranger again raised his eyes to Zoe.

‘I like your manner,’ she said carefully. ‘Have you just arrived?’ she asked for some unknown reason.

‘Yes, yesterday,’ said the man. ‘Always wanted to go to Venice,’ he added slowly. ‘To this... city of dreams.’

Zoe smiled involuntarily. Looking at his hands, which were still on the keyboard, she suddenly imagined with amazing clarity how fingers stroking the keys touch her skin. Imagined how they touch her neck, shoulders, pass along the shoulder blades, move to the waist, barely noticeable, but confidently increasing the pressure. Turning away, Zoe blinked.

The momentary rush of embarrassment, however, disappeared as quickly as it had arisen. What are you here for, Zoe, she asked herself. Not to sit in the room in the evenings with a glass of Tokaj and picture suffering, are you? Take a look at this piece of masculine beauty and make the most of what he promises. If he promises, of course.

‘ – at dinner tonight?’ Zoe woke up and looked at her interlocutor. Judging by his look, he was perfectly aware of what she was thinking and did not seem to mind. ‘If I understood correctly, there will be dances after dinner.’

Zoe nodded.

‘It's always like this here on Fridays. If you're looking for entertainment, there is hardly a better case,’ she said, looking him in the eye. ‘The season has just ended.’

The man silently shook his head.

‘I’ll come,’ he answered, standing up. He bowed graciously, intending to leave, and suddenly turned around. ‘What is your name?’

Again this strange seeking expression, a poignant mixture of despair and hope. And mockery – not at her, at himself.

‘Zoe Van Helsing,’ she said. Amazement flashed in his dark eyes but then disappeared.

‘Count Dracula,’ he said, shaking her outstretched hand. ‘See you at dinner, Zoe Van Helsing.’

***

For the upcoming evening, Zoe prepared carefully. After scrapping several spectacularly low-cut dresses, she settled on blue jeans and a light blue blouse. ‘If he is a real Count,’ her pride chuckled, ‘you will hardly be able to surprise him.’ Well, she didn't intend to.

‘I want to have a good time,’ Zoe muttered, glancing at herself in the mirror of an antique carved dressing table. She washed off the mascara from her eyelashes, which she diligently dyed five minutes ago, then, after short thinking, wiped a thin layer of lipstick from her lips. Zoe used makeup a little and only on special occasions, but it was not a lack of habit or awkwardness that made her get rid of it now. She could not explain to herself why, but she was sure that the best choice for meeting the Count was naturalness.

The hotel restaurant was unusually full: probably dancing inspired not only her, moving to one of the few free tables – at the exit to the terrace – Zoe thought. Sitting at the table and ordering a glass of Chianti, she turned her face to the light wind blowing from the ajar doors.

The bay shone in shades of blue, pink, and dove. Small waves broke up, catching the lighted lanterns. Zoe heard how music was born and tried its power in the hall. The wind became a little cooler. The waiter brought her Chianti.

She could have sat like that all evening, Zoe thought after the third or fifth sip. The music became louder and a little braver. Zoe decided that she might need more wine.

‘You promised me a dance.’

‘When did I?’ Zoe turned around.

Pause.

‘One hundred twenty-three years ago.’

She chuckled.

‘What a precision. And what a tactlessness!’

‘I beg your pardon?’

He was dressed in the same classic black suit as when they first met, and just like when they first met, she wanted this suit off him immediately. Zoe nodded to his questioning glance in the direction of the chair opposite and said, putting down her glass:

‘You just hinted at my age?’

‘No way,’ Dracula responded with mock horror. His eyes flashed with a mixture of irony and melancholy. ‘Never mind, this is... a personal joke.’

The orchestra fell silent behind them. One by one, the instruments stopped playing, as if they were disappearing into the shadows, yielding to the only remaining violin.

Zoe finished her wine. She felt like crying. Determination and frivolity vanished, and anger with herself remained.

‘I –’ she began, but Dracula interrupted her.

‘You promised me a dance.’

She watched him get up and walk over to her. Taking his hand, she rose and allowed him to lead her to a small dance floor in the opposite corner. She saw him making a sign to the musicians, heard the first chords sounded, then he pulled her to him and velvetly ran his hand along her back.

Everything floated somewhere: Venice, the damp smell of canals, a shade of raw plaster, which seemed to cover everything and everyone in this city, a draft coming from everywhere; pink-blue sky. Closed, sharply defined lips and dark, demanding eyes.

Music came from somewhere with dry clicks, crumbling on them beat by beat and measuring their steps. Piano – thunderstorm, monotonous rain, wet asphalt, water on San Marco. Pigeons flutter out from under her feet. Fractional flashes of droplets gather in puddles, a violin steps carefully over them, creeps in, displaces other sounds, and again remains alone. Freezes, kissing her forehead. And everything freezes with it.

...They took the elevator for ages. Squeezing his hand, Zoe watched the numbers change on the scoreboard on the wall. When the number three finally lit upon it, it seemed to her: a little more, and she simply could not stand it. They got to the room, and holding the key card to the door, she was surprised – it does not open until it dawned on her: not her suit. The door opened, closed behind her. Zoe leaned back on it, lifted her head.

Dracula leaned over to her and took her face in his hands. Zoe stood silently, motionless. Closing her eyes, she held her breath, feeling the touch of his lips, then – the tongue. Snuggling up to him, she grabbed him by the neck. He ran his hands over her body, finding, squeezed the nipples through the fabric. He pulled her blouse from the belt and ducked under it with his palm. Exactly how she fantasized... a long time ago... yes, this... afternoon. Twitching impatiently, Zoe swung her hips, her jeans button digging into his stomach. He pulled away, turning her, pressed her to the door again, tore off the button, zipper, and put his hand into her panties. Zoe buried her forehead against the door with a groan. His fingers caressed her harshly and roughly, without ceremony, tormenting her, not allowing her to escape. Zoe finished, breathing out a soundless scream.

Grasping her from behind, Dracula waited until she calmed down, turned her around, ran his fingers over her cheeks, erasing the lines of tears. He pulled her into the room, along with him, to the bed.

Lying on her back, Zoe listened to the disturbed world rebuilding within her body. She smiled at Dracula, who had time to put his clothes somewhere and bent over her. Now his touch was gentle, fleetingly teasing as if he was asking for forgiveness for the recent explosion. Zoe lifted herself up and slid into his arms – and gasped as he rolled onto his back, swapping them.

Zoe loved sex and found partners easily. Many of them were passionate and skillful. But she never really wanted to be on top. She shifted in embarrassment. She wasn't even sure she understood how...

She did not have time to think out the thought: grabbing her by the waist, Dracula slowly lowered her onto himself. And it was so good and... accurately, that Zoe bit her lip with acute pleasure. Dracula waited a couple more moments, lifted her, froze. Zoe frowned in bewilderment. He smiled and moved his hips. Once, twice. The third – slower, then faster, and in the same order – again. Arching, she trembled – and when his fingers found her clitoris, everything became unimportant, there were only moans and sighs in the darkness.

…

‘Would you like some coffee?’ Zoe asked. Dracula, hugging her with both arms and absentmindedly running his fingers over her stomach, shook his head.

‘I don’t drink... coffee,’ he replied, and there was distant anxiety in his voice. Zoe nodded nonchalantly as she climbed out of bed, wrapped her dressing gown, and walked over to the table.

‘It's cold,’ she said, looking into the coffee pot. Well, the coffee was brought in yesterday. She turned to Dracula, who was sitting on the bed. He was disheveled and looked at her in a strange way. ‘I'll order a new one.’ Stepping to the balcony, Zoe opened the glass door and breathed in the morning air.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dracula get up and approach her.

The sky was still gray, but somewhere in the distance birds were already awakening. Zoe turned to Dracula – and froze, bumping into a sharp, focused gaze.

He stood naked in front of her, and there was something very familiar about it – not because of last night, but different.

‘Sorry.’

He grabbed her with lightning speed, so that she did not have time to recoil or cry out, hugged her again – and something happened.

Zoe felt herself trembling and swaying, slipping and falling into an unknown direction. Everything blurred, and before her eyes flashed pictures – an iron grate, a torch thrown to the ground, the smell of burnt wool, a nun's dress, and blood. Swaying, salty air, captain at the helm, shouts, shadows on the deck, and another fire. An explosion, the smell of fresh gunpowder tickling her nostrils, a man's face distorted by rage bending over her.

Agatha recoiled, gasping for air, and finally screamed when she realized what he was doing.

‘Agatha, it`s over!’ Reality fell on her and struck from all sides at once, stunning. ‘That's all, Agatha!’ Dracula hugged her, holding her. She struggled, trembling, bursting into sobs. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated when she was exhausted and quieted down. ‘Sorry, I had to make sure.’

He let her go, and she, moving away, climbed onto the bed, huddled like a wounded animal. She wrapped herself tighter in her dressing gown, which miraculously still remained on her. She leaned back on the pillow and cried softly. Dracula silently sat down on the other side of the bed.

‘You survived,’ Agatha said without looking at him.

‘I did,’ said Dracula. ‘I just slept for a hundred and twenty years. Then I woke up and saw around... all this. But I liked it, you know.’

Agatha didn't answer. She didn't want details. She wanted to close her eyes and not open them for another hundred years.

‘How many have you eaten?’ she said dismissively.

‘Agatha, you worked at the research medical center,’ Dracula's voice sounded annoyed. ‘Do you know who the donors are? These are special people who donate blood, eggs, and sperm.’ He paused. ‘And there is Tinder, besides.’

Agatha felt her head begin to throb heavily.

‘How is this possible?’ she asked hoarsely. Turning, she looked at Dracula. Dracula didn't answer. ‘It’s the twenty-seventh of October two thousand and twenty,’ Agatha said with an effort. ‘I ate toast for breakfast. My blood type is the first negative. I don't like grapes and I love bananas. Last year I went to Islamabad. I remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing!’ she shouted; her voice rang out again.

Dracula was silent, and somehow that silence helped calm the storm that was raging inside her. Agatha looked around the room, looked at the bed, and at Dracula. She breathed in without a sound. Her body was still agitated, still keenly aware of what they were doing together. How could she do this – with him?

‘You remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing because you were her,’ she heard Dracula's voice. Agatha looked at him incredulously. ‘Her life was real. From the very first day. And at the same time, from the very first day, it was you.’

Getting up, Agatha walked to the balcony and leaned against the glass of the door. She frowned at Dracula.

‘It is believed that reincarnation,’ he said, ‘is always a new personality. In rebirth, a person begins a completely different life. And in most cases, apparently, it is. But it happens... it happens very rarely that the former personality turns out to be so strong that it displaces or does not let the new one in, and a conflict arises between them. I heard about this maybe two hundred years ago from some Arab doctor.

Agatha listened in silence.

‘The problem is,’ Dracula continued, ‘that two consciousnesses cannot get along in one human body. Such a split cannot last forever.’ He made a pause. ‘Have you ever been diagnosed with... what is it called now... cancer?’

‘Some years ago. I was in the hospital. Suspicion of leukemia,’ Agatha said in surprise. ‘Not confirmed. Zoe... I've seen the tests. But Z... I'm not an oncologist. I figured it was just a mistake. Someone confused the tubes.’

Dracula stared at her wordlessly.

‘Now, yes, that's a mistake,’ he said and stood up. In the split second after his words, something changed in his face and gaze, and in the room. Standing in place, Agatha watched him approach, stretches out his hands to her, opens her dressing gown. Already when he is very close, holding her between himself and the glass, raises her hips, and enters, she remembers that he is still naked.

Looking into her eyes, he pushes into her body, hard, rough, and deep. She has nowhere to go, not to hide, she should be disgusted and ashamed, she should be hurt, in the end, but she only moans and, shuddering, leans back.

The despair in his movements melts, smears out, he gets out of her, carries her to the bed. He enters again, leaning on his hands, continues, at the only point in contact with her. Agatha cums from this alone, and sweet spasms are still poured in her – while he lets her go, while he searches for his things, finds them, while dresses and, buttoned-up, walks to the door.

Agatha is unable to move, she feels at the same time heavy and light, but her thoughts and feelings are more clear than ever. She turns and holds out her hand.

‘Don't go.’

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #bbc dracula #count dracula #zoe van helsing #agatha van helsing #dragatha #fanfiction

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1littleshippergirl1 · 3 years ago

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Little info about this: it's like Canon, Harry defeated Voldemort but he and Tom Riddle are separate people. Tom and Harry are married, they dated during their Hogwarts years. Teddy has lived with them since Andie became too old to care for him. Technically Harry is supposed to be his dad, having adopted him but Teddy will still just think of him as his godfather

Also features soft!Tom b/c I can

----

The day had given way to dark; the snow was still steadily falling down, covering everything out there thickly. Teddy pressed his nose against the chilly glass, looking over at the illuminating Christmas lights that the people that lived across the street still hadn't taken down. The red and green lights twinkled, giving off their respective colored shadows.

It was about to be an exciting evening; it was Tom's birthday and Harry had planned a small party for him. Mrs. Weasley had initially wanted them all to have the party at the Burrow but Harry gently declined. Teddy knew why; Tom wasn't fond of being around a lot of people. He was alright with the Weasleys (he and Percy talked the most) but their home was small and it allow them to spread out like he would have liked.

Another thing Tom didn't like was a fuss being made out of his birthday. He insisted nothing needed to be done this year. He'd never liked celebrating it, never had a reason to particularly care about it. Harry was determined to change that, which he had apparently been doing since they'd met before they were friends, while they were just friends and as they got together.

Harry told him the plan a week ago: they were to act like it was an ordinary day so Tom was none the wiser. Then at about ten at night, they would start putting together the dining room while Tom was off probably in the library or elsewhere. Teddy wryly told his godfather not to go overboard. He had a tendency to do, attempting to make up for the lack of real childhood he and Tom didn't get to have.

What they were both unaware was that Teddy had been planning something special for a while now. He'd asked Percy for help a few months ago and now everything was ready. His stomach fluttered and he felt quite jittery. He couldn't wait until Tom saw his gift!

"When's he coming?" Teddy was, admittedly, slightly impatient to get started.

"Soon," Harry grinned. "I'll have to go get him." That was likely true. Tom could get lost in whatever he found interesting, not noticing how the hours would pass until someone pulled him away.

"Get him for what?" Came a deep voice from behind. Tom paused, staring at the decorations and food that was placed on the table.

"Surprise!" Teddy said excitedly. "Happy birthday, Tom!"

It wasn't easy to make Tom speechless, downright impossible it seemed. But today they'd done it. They'd rendered him unable to say a thing.

"I thought you forgot?" Tom blinked. He looked to Harry for an explanation. Teddy had never seen him look so innocent before. Like a child that was seeing gifts under the Christmas tree.

Harry cupped Tom's cheek, caressing it with his thumb. Teddy pretended he didn't see a red flush come over Tom's face. The older man was embarrassed (and as a result--angry) whenever someone caught him like that. "Surely you didn't think so? I'd never forget, love. Neither would Teddy."

Harry pressed a kiss on Tom's lips, pulling back with a bright beam on his face. "Now that you're here, you can put on your birthday hat!"

"Birthday-no," Tom was shaking his head. "Absolutely not. I refuse to wear such a silly thing."

"You mean after all the time I took to make it?" Harry was being deliberately quiet, as if he were hurt. Teddy knew he wasn't. He was merely exploiting the emotions Tom insisted he didn't have. For a good cause.

Tom groaned. He actually groaned. "Very well. Give it to me."

Immediately, Harry beamed again. "Fantastic! Here you are!"

Teddy barely refrained from snickering.

His godfather said often Tom pranced around like he was royalty or something, so it was only fitting that he wear a handmade crown with the words Dark Lord Wannabe on it.

He had no idea what that was about but evidently they did. Harry looked like he was on the verge of laughter and Tom's eye twitched.

"There, don't you look adorable and non threatening," Harry laughed out loud.

Tom was disgruntled. "I despise you, Potter."

"Watch it," Harry wagged a finger, "you're a Potter now. Don't go self hating on my watch."

It was a curious thing. People would have expected Harry to take Tom's name, not the other way around. But Tom wasn't one to play by the rules. He wanted to rid himself of his surname as soon as possible, proclaiming that it meant nothing to him. During their vows, Tom quietly said that Potter served as a symbolic reminder of what Harry had given him: a family, friends, hope, love.

Tom rolled his eyes, motioning towards the table. "Shall we get on with this?"

"Would it kill you to be enthusiastic?" Harry remarked as his husband sat down in one of the chairs.

"Quite. It would be tragic to pass away on my birthday."

"I dunno, maybe it's some sort of luck to ring in the new year?" Harry said teasingly.

A sparkle of mischievousness came into Tom's eyes and he swatted at Harry's bum. Teddy grimaced and hoped they could keep themselves in tact until they were in the privacy of their bedroom.

"You're being awfully naughty , Tom."

"In that case, I give you full permission to punish me until my behavior is sufficient," Tom smirked.

Teddy wanted to gag. "You guys are gross."

They ignored him.

"Alright, birthday boy," Harry swooped down to kiss his forehead. "What are we doing first? You pick."

"I suppose gifts," Tom shrugged like he was indifferent to the whole thing but Teddy wasn't fooled. He knew the older man was dying to know what he was bought.

"Alright," Harry nodded. He started to reach for the nearest box which do happened to be Teddy's.

"Wait!" He said quickly, causing the two men to swivel their heads in his direction. "Er, do mine last."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Okay... Open mine then, love." He handed Tom a small package.

It turned out to be a framed photograph of the first photo that was taken of them. Tom stroked it with a single finger. Teddy took a peek at it. They must have been no more than thirteen. Harry was laughing, ducking his head down as Tom threw a handful of snow on top his hair. At the last minute before the photo looped, they turned to smile at whomever was taking it. They were somewhat bashful , which was a funny look for them, especially Tom.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked, looking unsure. "I wasn't sure what to get you and Hermione suggested something sentimental and-"

Tom cut him off by pressing his lips against Harry's. When he was finished, he rested their foreheads together. "Thank you," He whispered.

"You really like it?" Harry had to clarify.

"I love it because it was from you."

Definitely not something most would think Tom Ri--Tom Potter would be caught saying.

They got through a few more gifts. Teddy observed how several emotions crossed Tom's face, though he would probably deny it. His heart began to thump the closer they were getting to when he would open Teddy's. He didn't know how the older man was going to react. Hopefully well.

"Alright, Teddy, your turn," Harry said cheerfully.

Teddy nervously presented Tom with the gift. The former Slytherin quirked an eyebrow. "You have to open it from the front," he explained, "so it's in order."

"Very well," Tom opened the box to revel folded up parchments. Teddy had been careful to keep it loose so nothing would wrinkle. "Every since I could remember, you've been around," Tom read aloud.

"You've taught me many things."

"You've given me confidence."

"You showed me how to negotiate better than anyone I know."

Harry snorted.

"But most of all, you've given me your love."

Tom wore an unreadable expression as he unrolled the last one, inhaling sharply. His eyes darted towards Teddy, who smiled hesitantly at him.

It took several moments for Tom to speak. "Are...are you sure, Teddy?"

"What?" Harry was curious and went to look. His eyes widened.

"I'm sure," Teddy said quietly. He stood in front of Tom and cleared his throat. "Tom Marvolo Potter, would you do me the honor of becoming my other dad?"

___

Tom Marvolo Potter, formerly Riddle, never cried.

Not since he was a small child and his in the comfort of his assigned bedroom to escape the torment of the other children in the orphanage.

But here he was, nearly thirty years of age and his eyes had grown misty and a lump formed in his throat. At one point when he was a child, this was all he ever wanted until the dream seemed like it was never to be and faded away.

And now he had it.

The last part of his gift that he unrolled had been adoption papers. They all seemed to be in order. Only his signature was needed in a couple of spots.

"Come here," Tom croaked out.

Teddy practically leaped into his arms, burying his face in the crook of Tom's neck. One hand was on the back of the boy's head. Tom squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting those tears to fall. He heard Harry from behind him and felt him grip his shoulder.

"You know," Tom said when he properly regained his emotions in check, "you can't take this back. No matter how angry you get at me."

It was meant as a feeble joke but his voice was thick, unable to push those... feelings back like he would preferred.

Teddy pulled back, his eyes glistening with tears. He nodded. "I know."

"Teddy..." this came from Harry, utterly in disbelief. "How did you...when did you-"

"Percy," Teddy said with a smile. "He helped me with everything." He looked at Tom shyly. "So it's a yes, yeah?"

"A million times yes," Tom did a rare thing and kisses him on the forehead. He wasn't as physically affectionate as Harry but he hoped Teddy knew he cared. "Thank you, Teddy. This is the best gift I've ever been given."

"I think I've been upstaged," Harry laughed lightly. "No way I can top that."

For the rest of the evening, the rest of what was left of the year, they ate cake and drank pumpkin juice and enjoyed each other's presence. Tom was the lightest he'd been in years; he watched as Harry and Teddy laughed over something that was said with a look of fondness on his face.

Never did he imagine having all this. Back at the orphanage where he sat on his lumpy cot, knees pulled up to his chest, he thought he was doomed to a life of misery. No one ever came to see him and even at Hogwarts kids had avoided him.

And then he met Harry, who brightened up his entire world and gave him possibilities he didn't know existed.

And now he had a family. All of his own.

The clock struck midnight. Tom reached over to squeeze Harry's hand.

"What's that for?" Harry whispered.

"Just a thank you."

Harry was bemused. "For what?"

Lips caressed his temple. "Everything."

#harry potter #tomarry #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #teddy lupin #adoption

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

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Lighthouse (A translated one-shot)

I translated this masterpiece originally written by 白飞飞是我宝贝 on Weibo (with permission)

It’s rare to find a piece of writing that is so immersive and makes the deepest parts of your soul ache. I knew it’d be a tragedy if it isn’t accessible to anyone who doesn’t read Chinese T^T

I’ll be keeping the original writer updated on comments left on this work because she’s the one who deserves all the credit 💕

[1]

Morning sunlight filters in through the curtains and fall on my eyelids, leaving a reddish shadow. I frown slightly, struggling to open my eyes.

Before me are grey curtains and white walls. The familiar yet foreign decor leave me unable to react. I turn over.

My head feels like it's filled with water, and the pain sobers me up a little.

I look at the grey-blue quilt, the grey-blue pillows, and the clean outershirt and T-shirt in the closet...

I shoot up from the bed, ignoring my severe headache. After a quick glance around my surroundings, I finally look down at myself - I’m still in the same outfit as yesterday. Other than it being slightly wrinkled from sleep, not a single button is loose.

Even so... why am I in Gavin’s house?

I get up with some effort, pressing a hand to my head while the other is against the wall, supporting me as I walk out of the room. On the table sits a glass of soy milk, a glass of fresh milk, steam buns, but no Gavin.

Sitting at the dining table, I stare dazedly at the warm milk in front of me.

Maybe my body isn’t fully conscious yet, or maybe yesterday’s hangover has left me a little numb. Today, I don’t feel the irritability and gloom that has been torturing me for almost half a month.

Half a month ago, I broke up with Gavin. I initiated it. To my utmost surprise, he didn't refuse. He simply hesitated for a while, and said “okay” in a hoarse voice.

I take a sip of the milk, suddenly recalling the way a coquettish smile had hung on my lips when I was still with him.

“Gavin, I want to drink the milk you’re holding. Is that okay?”

“It’s not that I dislike soy milk. I like both, so I want to drink it too.”

“But I can’t finish two cups by myself, and I simply enjoy... snatching. Food. From. The. Wolf.”

The tips of Gavin’s ears turn red. With one hand, he grabs me off his body and wraps my entire self into a hug.

Since then, we would always have a cup of soy milk and a cup of milk for breakfast, with both cups placed in front of me.

He would always wait for me to finish my meal before helping himself to the “leftovers”. I would blush and watch as his thin lips casually stick to the cup where my traces still remain. An inexplicable sweetness would fill me, occupying the entire atrium of my heart.

The sudden memories are overwhelming. The knuckles gripping the cup have gone white. After taking a deep breath, I feel the first sting in my heart. I resign myself to my fate, forcing my eyes shut, and let the delayed pain and torment swallow me up whole.

[2]

The phone rings, and I pick it up without checking who the caller is.

"This is Gavin."

In my trance, his classic greeting makes me think we are still together.

“Are you awake? If... you are, there’s breakfast on the table.”

"Why am I in your house?"

My voice sounds strangely hoarse and terrible, like a broken bellow.

"You drank too much yesterday. Minor called me. Your doors and windows were shut, ahem, so...”

"Oh,” my voice is a little dry. “I see, thank you.”

We’re already adults, and even used to be lovers who were attached at the hip. Simply spending a night at his house doesn't warrant me to cause a scene.

What’s more, he is Gavin - the Gavin who has never made things difficult for others.

After finishing breakfast hastily, I tidy the table. I pretend not to see the matching teacups on cabinet. My eyes tremble slightly when they sweep past by the photos we took together.

Before leaving, I walk to the shelf behind the door to retrieve the key out of sheer habit. When my finger touches the ginkgo leaf pendant, I shirk backwards.

When I spot the two pairs of cotton slippers - one large and one small - in the shoe cabinet, I feel my heartstring finally snap, and I collapse against the wall.

The memories in these details are truly terrifying. Donning a harmless appearance, they slowly tear down the defences I had constructed with great difficulty.

These two pairs of cotton slippers were purchased during our early days as a couple. I still remember that it was the first time I saw a sick Gavin. He was leaning against the wall of the hallway - just as I am doing now - his soft bangs covering his tired eyes.

Trying a new menu in the kitchen, I suddenly feel a searing chest pressed against my back. His chin rests lazily in the crook of my neck, and the warm breath exhaled from his nose reddens my cheeks.

"Gavin? Why are you back so early today?" I try to ignore my rapid heartbeat, and my speed of cutting the vegetables slows down significantly.

He rubs his head against my shoulder and responds in a muffled voice:

“Dizzy.”

Only then do I notice his abnormally high body temperature. After hastily washing my hands and wiping my apron twice, I place my hand on his forehead.

He lowers his head obediently and lifts up his bangs, revealing delicate eyebrows. The amber eyes underneath are unnaturally moist, and remind me of a deer in a forest - pure and gentle.

“What happened? Why are you burning up so badly?”

I frown and pull him out of the kitchen, then press him onto the bed without giving him a chance to refuse.

When I was sick as a child, my dad would always tuck me in tightly. Although it was very hot, I would feel much better after sweating it out. So I also tuck the white quilt around Gavin’s neck. He is very cooperative, but his bright eyes remain wide open and he stares at me without blinking.

"What are you looking at? Close your eyes and go to sleep!" I pretend to be angry. However, upon seeing the abnormal flush on his face and the obvious tiredness between his eyebrows, my heart softens. "Well, you should have a good rest if you’re sick. I'll cook some porridge for you. Take your medicine after eating it, okay?"

My tone sounds as though I’m pacifying a child. After hearing this, a bright smile appears in his eyes. After a long time, he responds lazily with an “okay”.

But his actions are not as obedient as his words. While I’m busy cooking porridge, he walks out of the bedroom again and hugs me from behind without saying a word, like a huge koala.

Clearly, a sick Gavin and a normal Gavin are two completely different people. For the first time, I realise that this man, who is unafraid of dying in a shower of bullets, can actually be coquettish to such a degree.

I shake his hand away angrily, but he responds by lifting me up and striding over to the sofa.

"Gavin! What are you doing!" I instinctively want to pound on his shoulder, but when I think about how he’s still sick, I stop myself. The only thing I can do is raise my voice to sound agitated.

He places me on the sofa, then leans against me lazily, his strong arms wrapping around my waist, breathing in the scent of my hair.

"Can you keep me company?" The cold has made his voice deeper, as if a handful of sand has been sprinkled into his voice. "I feel terrible.”

With these few words, the anger that was about to flare vanishes. My heart softens and feels numb, as though there are ants crawling through it.

“...okay, I'll stay with you."

He falls asleep on my shoulder in under five minutes. He must have been really tired. I lay him down carefully on the sofa and pull a blanket over him.

At this moment, Gavin, who is more than 1.8 meters tall, is curled up on the sofa looking aggrieved and haggard. The blanket isn’t large enough to cover his feet, and I realise that he has been walking around barefoot.

Although the weather has begun to warm up during this time of year, it’s easy to fall sick between spring and summer. He once dragged me home because I didn’t wear a jacket. But when it comes to himself, he isn’t as meticulous.

Treading quietly, I leave the house to buy food items from the supermarket downstairs. I also stop by the living area to pick out two pairs of slippers - one big and one small, one blue and one pink, with a wolf and a bunny printed on them.

They feel soft and warm, and are very comfortable.

When I reach home, I’m wrapped in a familiar embrace as soon as I open the door. I hear a voice filled with grievances from above my head.

“Where did you go? Why didn't you tell me?"

I break free from his embrace. Lowering my head, I see that he’s still barefoot.

"I went out to get groceries. I’ll make you porridge with preserved eggs and lean meat tonight."

I kneel down, retrieve the newly bought slippers from the bag. Without looking up, I command:

“Lift your feet.”

Gavin puts them on obediently. I stand up and look at him. “How are they? Do they fit?”

His ears are ridiculously red. He blinks gently.

“Are these for me?”

"Yes, my Mr Wolf."

I reply casually, carrying the ingredients into the kitchen.

Gavin finally settles down peacefully, sitting on the sofa obediently and waiting for my food. Most of the porridge that day ends up in his stomach. After taking the anti-fever medicine, he encases me in his arms and turns the lights off early.

His breathing is especially clear in the dark, and is tainted with scorching heat, ironing the back of my neck in a regular pattern. I can’t bear the numbness and move slightly, but the man behind me holds me even more tightly. I can’t fathom where this sick person derives his strength from. I can't break away at all.

"Thank you for today," I hear him say suddenly, with a slightly hoarse voice that sounds particularly sultry in the quiet night. "I liked the preserved egg and lean meat porridge you made, I liked the slippers you gave me, and... ahem, anyway, thank you."

I chuckle, rolling over in his arms. I raise my head to meet his crystal-clear eyes in the dim night.

"No need to thank me, Mr Gavin. Because I like you the most."

[3]

When I awake from the memory, I hear the rattle of a key coming from outside the door. Feeling flustered, I have no idea where to put my hands and feet. In the next second, I meet the bright amber eyes from my memory once again.

Holding a bag of vegetables in his hand, he stands quietly at the door, looking at me silently. When his eyes trail to the high heels on my feet, his brows furrow slightly.

I bite my lip and break the awkward silence. "Thank you for yesterday. I won’t bother you further. Goodbye.”

I give him a nod. Before I can step outside, he blocks the way.

Lifting my head, I look at him with a puzzled expression. His neck muscles are tense, and his lips are pressed into a line. The morning light falls on his handsome side profile, softening his sharp features.

"Your complexion looks bad. Rest for a while, and don't force yourself.”

Perhaps I have yet to sober up completely, because I find myself agreeing awkwardly. I change my shoes again and sit down on the sofa. Taking a deep breath, I try to ignore the faint pain from my temples.

Gavin pours me a cup of hot water. I hold it in my palm and say mindlessly, "I didn't expect that I would be a guest here one day."

Gavin pauses, and he says nothing.

After retrieving two tomatoes and a piece of tofu from the bag, he walks into the kitchen, which is pretty much a decorative piece to him.

I arch my eyebrows in surprise. When I hear the stove turning on, I walk over with curiosity.

Gavin has his back towards me, surrounded by sliced tomatoes and tofu, and a bowl of beaten eggs. At a glance, there are no eggshells in it. He flips through a booklet and follows the steps in it meticulously.

I probably guessed what he wanted to do. When he finally stretches out his hand to take the sugar, I stop him in the nick of time. "Gavin, that’s white sugar. The salt is over there.

His stiffens, the tips of his ears turning redder than the tomatoes in the pot.

Once the soup is prepared, he ladles it into a bowl and brings it to me.

"Drink a bowl. It’d help you sober up.” His voice is a little soft and obviously lacking in confidence. "I tried it just now... ahem, it's not bad...”

I smile and take the egg drop soup from his hand. Stirring the soup with a spoon causes bright red tomatoes to bob around. The aroma of green onions instantly dispels the smell of alcohol stuffing my nose.

I take a sip. It really doesn’t taste bad.

But I can’t understand why such a delicious soup makes me feel as though I’m drinking something bitter.

I stand at the door of the kitchen, taking slow sips. When I can almost see the bottom of the bowl, I force myself to laugh.

"Is this the former police officer who only knew takeaway food and instant noodles? This cooking is a great leap forward."

The brightness in his eyes dims for a moment, and he responds with a hint of self-mockery. "I’m used to your cooking, so I can no longer eat takeaway food or instant noodles. The only thing I can do now is learn to make it myself.”

I’m left stunned, not expecting that he would say this. He turns back to the kitchen to wash the pots and bowls. I watch his tall figure in a daze, and am suddenly swept up into a whirlpool of memories.

While heading to the supermarket, I turn my head to Gavin and ask him a question.

“Gavin, what do you like to eat?”

He responds with a faint smile. “Anything. As long as you make it, I will love it.”

I know Gavin always puts me first, and that I would get nowhere if I continued down this line of questioning. I simply change my approach.

“What do you usually eat then?”

After thinking about it carefully, he says, “STF doesn’t have a canteen. I usually eat at a restaurant outside, or have instant noodles. I'm not a picky eater, so it’s fine as long as I can fill my stomach.”

I know that he works hard, but I’m still a little angry at his living habits.

“Without me around, would you be eating instant noodles your entire life?”

When he sees me suddenly frowning, his tone gets slightly flustered.

“I...”

“Hmph, in order to punish you, I’ve decided that..." I reach out angrily and pick out a Chinese cabbage from the freezer. "You have to clear the entire plate tonight, and my boxed lunches in future! Eat well, sleep well, and take care of yourself. Do you understand!”

There is a smile in his amber eyes, and the corners of his mouth rise a little. In the end, he rubs my hair with some helplessness, and obediently says, "okay.”

Bang.

The sound of the cabinet door closing shut pulls me back to reality. When I meet his eyes, I hurriedly conceal my dazed expression.

“Thank you. I just remembered that I still have things to do at the company, so I’ll make a move.”

I walk towards the entrance, slightly embarrassed.

When I hear him call my name, I stop.

"Can we talk?”

I stand frozen in place, all the blood draining away the warmth from my heart. It isn’t until I’m surrounded by a broad embrace that I can eventually hear my heart beating again.

Gavin always liked hugging me from behind the most, hanging his head by the side of my ears, his soft sideburns on my face. I would hear his unhurried, gentle breathing.

Just like right now. My back leans against his hard chest, his body temperature wrapping me in a thin cloak. The arms on my waist are strong, and there’s a new scar on it.

The familiar heartache sweeps across me again, unbridled. Before I can react, I hear a breath near my ears.

"If Minor didn’t call me, would I have had no chance to see you again?"

[4]

I ruminated over why Gavin and I broke up. It always came back to a cliche term - unsuitable.

I’m the boss of a small company, living a standard 9 to 5 life. Although I sometimes work overtime, my life has a fairly regular pattern.

Gavin is a special officer who has no fixed working hours. He runs off whenever there’s danger, and we often lose contact. The longest time we’ve been apart was for nearly a month, and the only communication we had spanned only ten minutes. Most of the time, I was asking, “Is there a signal? Can you hear me?”

But I never felt that our professional life was an obstacle in our love. On the contrary, it was precisely because of our intersecting schedules that I cherished the time with him even more.

It's just...

When I learned that he had a vacation on the 520 during our early days together as a couple, I excitedly made a travel plan for an overnight stay at the beach.

There was a filming site of a movie that I particularly liked. I lay in his arms enthusiastically and described the reeds, the lighthouse, and the ocean where the first light of day could be seen. Gavin had smiled and listened to me, then dropped a kiss on my forehead.

But when the time came, I went there alone.

He had received an urgent task suddenly. After hesitating for a while, he wanted to call and decline. However, I held his phone and shook my head at him. "It's okay, go.”

Then, it was the first Qixi Festival we celebrated together. Gavin had specially adjusted his schedule to keep me company. That day, we walked through the ancient streets lined with lanterns while holding hands. We released a small paper boat by the river together. We also watched a sweet and romantic movie. He watched me smile, our fingers clasped together, warm and powerful.

But when I got up in the morning the very next day, I saw Gavin seated on the sofa with his head down. I whispered his name, and he raised his head to look at me. His eyes were moist and red, and his usually clear voice was hoarse.

"The teammate who swapped shifts with me yesterday met with an accident during the mission... if it weren’t for me, he would have been fine now...”

I held his hand distressedly and comforted him. It wasn’t his fault. But when I saw the pain in his eyes, I knew that he would shoulder everything himself, and that he would carry on with this self-blame and guilt.

After that, Gavin became more frequently tasked with missions, and became more frequently injured. In addition to distress, I also felt helpless.

Then came the Spring Festival. He had accompanied me to my aunt’s house. He wasn’t very good with talking, and his body had unconcealed wounds. My aunt’s expression gradually morphed from enthusiasm to politeness.

My aunt dragged me to the kitchen and asked me solemnly, in a low voice.

"What does he do? Special police? You know this kind of work is dangerous! Should you marry him in the future, what if... and I’m saying ‘what if’... what if something goes wrong? What would you do?”

I tightened my cuffs, took a deep breath, and said, "Aunt, no matter how dangerous his work is, or how dissatisfied you are with him, he is the person I’ve decided on, and I love him very much.”

My aunt frowned and looked at me. She sighed slowly. "Silly child, you’ll understand later on that the most important thing in marriage is not love, but suitability. Love is just one condiment in life, and life is a big dish. It needs the right dishes to match, supplemented by condiments, in order to have an excellent and delicious presentation."

“I’m not trying to nag at you. I just want you to think this through carefully. I know that Gavin is a good boy, and I can see how much he cares for you. But I can also see that you don’t look as happy as before. I just hope you young ones can live happily.”

After returning home that day, my aunt’s words continued echoing in my ears. I didn’t want to accept my somewhat shaky reality.

In countless nights without Gavin, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling in a daze. What flashed before my eyes were Gavin’s scars. He never took the initiative to tell me about his injuries, and never mentioned the danger of his missions.

His solemn and stern eyes told me that every “I’m fine” from his lips had no credibility.

With time after time of heartaches and disappointments, I seemed to suddenly understand what my aunt said.

When he flips through the medicine cabinet in the living room again in the middle of the night, I walk out of the bedroom and turn the lights on with a “click”.

At first, he’s surprised. Then, he starts panicking as he tries to hide the scar on his left shoulder. Without a word, I take out the hard iodine and gauze from the medicine box, carefully remove the his bloodstained clothes, and gently clean up the wound little by little.

This time, the wound isn’t deep, but there is a lot of bleeding. I squat down in front of him, the hand holding the tweezers trembling slightly. In contrast, my words are calm.

"Gavin. Do you know that if I were your teammate, I definitely wouldn't want to see you in this sorry state? It’s only when you take care of yourself that you can protect even more people.”

I throw the napkin away and wrap the gauze around his arm. His muscles are smooth and tight. Even though I’ve seen it so many times, it still gives me heart palpitations.

"In the future, you have to protect yourself well, understand? Don't let the people who love you feel scared all day. This kind of torture is even more unbearable than physical injuries.”

I tie a neat knot, then sit beside him, hugging him gently. His amber eyes flicker, and within them are waves of pain and struggle.

"Gavin.”

I lean my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes and memorising the warmth of his body.

"Let’s break up.”

[5]

I break free from Gavin’s embrace and leave his house in a hurry after leaving him with a sentence:

“Don't follow me.”

I run in a hurry, because I know that if I hesitate for a second longer, I will fall into his arms completely and become unable to extricate myself.

It's ridiculous.

Even though I keep reminding myself that we have already broken up, I still love his warmth.

The drinks were really worthless. If it weren't for this hangover, I wouldn’t have been so embarrassed, and I wouldn’t have been so easily defeated by mere memories and a hug.

I take a taxi and return home.

The moment I close the door, I finally remove all my forbearances. I throw myself onto the sofa and raise an arm to cover my eyes. Tears trickle down the corners of my eyes, silent and endless.

[6]

I must have been crazy to agree to Minor’s invitation to attend the high school reunion. When I see the tall figure walking into the banquet hall, my instinctive reaction is to flee.

But standing next to me is an old friend. He’s chatting about the past enthusiastically, and I have no choice but to remain still and nod along in agreement.

Gavin’s appearance is akin to throwing a boulder on calm water, and the ripples caused by the waves spread through the entire banquet hall, including my heart.

Although he should have already spotted me, he doesn't talk to me. Instead, he sits two spaces away. His expression is cold and fierce, as though he has come to participate in a serious operation.

No one dared to approach him in high school, and this has remained true even now. To outsiders, he is a lone wolf - indifferent and arrogant, causing everyone to retreat from him.

I used to see him in the same light, but everything that occurred later overthrew these myopic impressions. I discovered the softness and delicateness hiding under his hard shell.

“Hey, what's the matter with you? Why are you distracted all the time?"

My old friend waves his hand in front of me, and I apologise with a bit of embarrassment.

After saying a few more words, he suddenly asks, "Do you have a boyfriend now?"

Hearing this, I choke on my red wine. In the corner, Gavin seems to be frowning at me, his amber eyes bright and scorching, making me subconsciously want to escape.

I avert my eyes and shake my head. "No."

He becomes a little more interested then, changing the topic from high school to the present.

"Let me tell you - I’m working at LFG now and have bought a car and paid the down payment for a house. Also, my parents don’t live with me, so if you’re...”

"Are you done?” A cold voice interrupts him. My heart trembles and I raise my head, only to see Gavin's cold glare.

At this moment, nearly half of the eyes in the hall are focused on our conversation. Looking like he doesn’t care about anything, Gavin grabs my arm and pulls me out of the room. I can’t escape from his grasp, and feel frustrated by his inexplicable behaviour.

He takes me to a small balcony outside the hall, then imprisons me between the wall and his chest. He looks down at me, brows furrowed deeply. There’s an unconcealed anger in his eyes.

"What are you doing?” I question, unwilling to look at him directly.

The reply I get is a kiss that plunders everything.

His lips press against mine roughly, and his unique scent overwhelms me. There is a collision and friction between our lips and teeth, and there is pain.

It’s an uncontrolled plunder and invasion.

He doesn’t let me go until my last breath is violently swept away. I pant heavily, but he embraces me in the next second.

This time, his embrace is gentle.

It’s careful, as if he’s protecting a fragile glass flower. His heavy breath brushes my neck, mingling with his low and trembling voice.

"I'm sorry."

[7]

I don’t deny that I lived a terrible life in the half month after separating from him.

I worked overtime every day, letting work fill all the gaps in my life. I didn’t give myself a chance to relax at all, because it only takes a second for pain and regret to gnaw away at me.

Minor has been secretly reporting my life to Gavin. I knew that. But I never thought of stopping him, and a ridiculous expectation even started brimming in my heart.

I wondered if there would be a night, when the lights of the city begin to fade, when he would appear in front of me as he used to. He would wrinkle his beautiful eyebrows and gently bring me into his arms. With a slight touch of reproach, he would ask resignedly, “Why are you working overtime again?”

I also wondered if he would push the office door open anxiously when I’m stricken with another stomach ailment, picking me up sideways without a word. The expression on his face back then was full of anger, but the stream of light in his eyes magnified his distress and tenderness infinitely.

I also wondered, when I have finished my work for the day and am leaning against the wall of the elevator and staring at the changing floors, whether I’d see him as soon as I open the door.

If he did show up, I would put everything down and leap into his arms, and tell him over and over again that I love him.

But in the half month since our break up, he never appeared once.

This city is so large that even if two people were once intimate, they may miss each other for a lifetime if they don’t stay in touch.

So I started to waver again. Why did I live even more unhappily after listening to what my aunt said?

Why is it that once the seasoning of love is no longer part of this big dish of life, the entire thing tastes like wax?

I don't understand - would I be happier finding someone I’m suitable with but do not love, or consume each other’s love and embrace the friction?

Deep down, I know that if I could abandon everything and make a choice, I would choose the latter without hesitation.

At least, my life as of now tells me very clearly that the decision I made was wrong.

And this mistake has tortured the both of us beyond recognition.

[8]

My back is extremely tense and feels like a fully stretched bow.

The hands around my waist move slightly, and Gavin’s voice falls on my ears, drawing intense pain from my heart.

With every breath, I can only smell the scent of his body and the sweet aroma of red wine from just now.

Over his shoulders, I see the bright, brilliant, erosive, and prosperous city. Trapped inside are people all sentenced to life.

I know that I’m one of them.

Without warning, tears trickle from the corners of my eyes, leaving streaks of cold water on my face.

In my increasingly fuzzy and hot vision, I see Gavin’s somewhat flustered expression. He gently wipes away my tears with his rough finger pads.

Those eyes, full of anxiety, become the only lighthouse within reach.

It seems that as long as I look at him, I will never lose my way.

After a few small sobs, I rush into his arms without a care. I pull at the corners of his clothes and cry until his white T-shirt becomes damp.

He comforts me clumsily, his hands caressing my hair in exchange for the string of muffled "sorry"s flowing from my mouth.

[9]

I called my aunt.

"Aunt, is suitability really that important in life?"

"Silly child, suitability is very important. But more importantly, are you happy?"

“What if I’m with someone who I’m not suitable with, but I feel happy?”

"Then he might be the most suitable person for you.”

[10]

I stand at the door of the STF office, holding a boxed lunch and looking outside.

An officer who recognises me greets me with a smile. "Is sister-in-law giving Gavin food again? Just go in and wait. The team is already on their way back.

I smile and nod. “It doesn't matter. Waiting over here is the same thing.”

Another colleague pats him on the shoulder, as if laughing at his stupidity. "What would you know, you single loner? Sister-in-law wants to see Gavin sooner!"

I blush, and suddenly see a familiar profile coming in through the door.

The faint light of dusk outlines his wide shoulders and narrow waist, depicting his side profile clearly. Seeing me, the solemnity and coldness on his face melts into a pool of spring water.

"What are you doing here? Didn't I say you should wait for me at home?"

He walks up to me and takes what’s in my hand, his tone brisk and clear.

I crinkle my eyes and smile, saying, "I’m off work early today, and came over since I have nothing to do.”

We walk all the way to his office. Opening the boxed lunch, he sees that it contains his favourite dishes.

Gavin takes a whiff in a slightly exaggerated manner, then smiles. "Mm, smells good.”

I quickly hand him the chopsticks. He picks up a piece of beef and brings it into his mouth. After swallowing it, he lowers his eyes and smiles. "I get to eat the food you cook after my mission. I suddenly don't feel tired at all.”

I feel a twinge in my heart. I huff nonchalantly and respond. "If you like it, I’ll prepare and bring you boxed lunches in the future.”

"No need." He reaches out and tousles my hair. "Be good and wait for me at home. Just knowing that you’re at home makes me feel very contented.”

After work, we walk home together hand in hand. The setting sun filters through the uneven skyline of the city, elongating our shadows.

The summer evening breeze carries the scent of camphor trees across my face, and the temperature of the day finally reveals a tired and lazy side. Dim light reaches the world through the clouds drifting in the sky, bringing a certain tenderness to this steely city.

"Gavin?" I turn my head to look at the man wearing a smile on his mouth, and happen to meet his clear eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"Your birthday is coming soon. Are there any gifts you want?”

"Anyth-"

“You’re not allowed to say ‘anything’!" I interrupt him with a glare, giving his palm a forceful squeeze.

He smiles compromisingly, and his eyes seem to be filled with scattered gold.

"Then teach me how to cook a meal. I hope one day in the future, you can return home from work and eat a meal I’ve prepared.”

I’m momentarily startled, and suddenly remember what my aunt said -

"Then he might be the most suitable person for you.”

I have thought about this question of suitability many, many times. Just like the “unity of opposites” in philosophy, I simply can’t make sense of it. But no one has ever told me that this question doesn’t require thinking. The answer has always been in my heart, and the clues to finding the answer have been scattered throughout my life.

Even the most trivial things in life carries memories belonging only to us. And these small and plain memories will gather into a surging tide when you least expect it, washing away the dust covering the answer in one’s heart.

Perhaps there has never been such a thing as “unsuitable” to begin with. This so-called “unsuitable” is just used by people looking for an excuse to part ways.

A breeze blows past, and ripples appear on the lake in my heart. When I look at him again, I suddenly feel light and happy both physically and mentally, and that nothing could come between the both of us.

With a big smile, I say, "Okay! I’ll leave the birthday party to you then, Mr Gavin.”

He chuckles softly, his bangs a little messy from the evening breeze. "I will learn properly, and won’t disappoint you.”

The sunset finally sinks behind the tall buildings. Neon lights and vehicle headlights begin to flicker, and the dim yellow streetlights on the side of the road replace the sunset, continuing to illuminate the long road.

I know that he will hold my hand as we walk, step by step, slowly and steadily, along this path home.

#mlqc #mlqc gavin

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pixieposts · 4 years ago

Text

Dice Prompt

Today I was rudely woken up at 4am so I decided to use the extra time to write.

I rolled a 10! Our prompt is: “Can we please stop running? I think I am dying” Enjoy!

AO3

Fjord sighed as he watched the bartender walk back over with his beer, muttering a quiet thank you as he took it. He hated being the first one to arrive when the Nine met up, especially when it involved a bar that he had never been to. But it had been another week from hell at school, with mid-terms coming up and extra holiday shifts at the garage... he was wiped out. A night out with friends was exactly what he needed.

“Fjord! Fuckin’ bus was late again”

He smiled as he heard Beau’s voice ring out behind him, only to have the smile disappear immediately when he heard another join her

“Fjord?”

He turned on his barstool, disbelief filling his mind as he caught sight of not only Beau, but the person who had walked in with her. Slim, with long ginger hair tied loosely back, dressed in worn-out jeans and a dark grey cardigan... It couldn’t be him.

“Fjord Stone?”

It was definitely him.

Fjord had never heard anyone else say his name the way he did.

“Caleb Widogast” he breathed, trying to change his shocked expression for a smile and failing miserably.

Big blue eyes stared at him, blinking in matching disbelief before turning to Beau with a pointed look.

“This is why you wanted me to come out so badly? You could have just said--”

“It’s more fun if it’s a surprise dude!”

“More fun for you maybe”

Fjord watched them argue until his heartrate had slowed back to normal, then cleared his throat. They both looked over sheepishly, seeming to realize that they had all but forgotten he was there. Honestly, it was kind of cute.

“You mad?” Beau asked, going for her usual nonchalance but giving herself away with a nervous frown “I thought it would be fun”

“I just don’t understand how... what?” he turned to Caleb “I thought you were still in Xhorhas training with that Essek guy?”

“I... I decided I wanted to branch out a bit”

Beau tugged Caleb over, all but shoving him onto one of the stools next to Fjord before taking one herself. She waved down the bartender and ordered two beers before turning back to them.

“I can explain this one” she thanked the bartender, handing a beer to Caleb with a nod “Cay here is in a couple of my classes, we’ve been hanging out and working together since last year” she took a sip “he starts telling me about this guy, this old friend that he hadn’t been able to get in touch with right? And I’m like thinkin’, y’know, the city is huge so that makes sense”

Fjord nodded along, despite having no idea where this was going.

“And then like... two months-ish ago you” she pointed at Fjord with her beer bottle “mentioned the same thing. Old friend, couldn’t find him online, hadn’t seen him in years yadda-yadda" she waved a hand dismissively “so I start doing a little poking around right? Looking at old year books and talking to my connections at the Xhorhas Soul... and what do I find?”

She reached into her jackets inner pocket and whipped out a piece of paper that looked like it had been torn directly out of a book. Caleb glared at her, grumbling under his breath about damaging books that weren’t your own. She shushed him, laying the paper out and smiling brightly when they both leaned in. Fjord felt warmth bloom in his chest when he realized what he was looking at, it wasn’t just some scrap of paper, it was a photo (albeit a photo she had definitely ripped out of a yearbook). In it were young Caleb and Fjord, dressed in outdated clothes with Fjord’s arm wrapped around Caleb’s skinny shoulders. Fjord was beaming at the photographer while Caleb looked up at him, a fond smile on his face that sent Fjord’s stomach into summersaults. Caleb looked nearly the same, but without the scruff and with his hair cut to just above his shoulders. Fjord could just barely see the tips of his still blunted tusks poking out in the smile... so they had to be nearly graduated. He hadn’t stopped filing them until around then. Caleb had convinced him to stop, now that he thought about it...

“So, I find this, and it just confirmed what I was already pretty sure about” she tapped the photo triumphantly “you’re welcome, assholes”

Fjord tore his eyes from the old photo, looking up just in time to see Caleb do the same. For all the other ways that age had changed them... his eyes were just the same. Deep ocean blue and far too clever for his own good, and Fjord couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Beauregard” Caleb said quietly, without looking away “this was very kind of you”

“Yeah, thanks Beau”

In his peripheral he could see Beau looking between them with her eyes narrowed in the way that he knew meant she was making note of something. The growing sense of joy in his chest distracted him enough that he really didn’t care at the moment.

“Are you two about to get all gross and sappy?”

“I cannot make any promises to the contrary” Caleb shrugged, still smiling as he took a sip of his beer

“Nope” Fjord said with an exaggerated pop “I can’t either. We got a lot of years to catch up on”

“Ugh, this was a mistake”

“Are you sure? I have many stories about high school Fjord that I know you would enjoy”

Fjord shot him a glare without any real menace behind it.

“Two can play at that game, should I tell her about the time you blew up the chem lab?”

“Only if you want her to know about the time you flooded the entire gym”

Beau was smirking now, looking from one to the other mischievously.

“Okay, I take it back, this was a great idea and I’m a fucking genius”

They spent the next thirty minutes going back and forth with stories of their high school years, and all the ridiculous teenage stuff they had gotten up to. By then the others had arrived, and Fjord was shocked to see that none of them were confused by Caleb’s presence. Somehow, through the last two years, Caleb had managed to make friends with all of Fjords friends... and they had never run into each other. He supposed it wasn't THAT strange, Caleb had never been one for parties and had always put more of his focus into school than socializing... but still. Once the whole group was here, the conversations shifted to more general topics, like mid-terms and work and petty grievances (those were mostly Molly, admittedly). Caleb and Beau swapped seats at one point, so the Beau could flirt more directly with Yasha and Jester, and Caleb turned to him with a small smile. His cheeks had started to colour from the beers, giving him an endearing blush.

“Hallo again”

“Hey” Fjord smiled back, fondness softening his expression

“You have grown out your tusks” Caleb mused; head tilted slightly “they suit you”

“Same with your hair” Fjord reached out, tugging lightly on a loose strand before tucking it behind Caleb’s ear “you look good Cay, happy”

“I am” he laid a hand over Fjord’s on the bar “I am happy, things have been good I just...” he paused, and the tips of his ears went pink too “I have missed you. Very much.”

“You’re not an easy man to find” Fjord turned his hand over, pressing the scars of their long-ago pact together “but I’ve missed you too, the city’s felt weird without you around”

“I have been around”

“Apparently, still can’t believe we haven't run into each other before this”

“It certainly seems strange does it not?”

They sat that way for the rest of the night, catching up at first, talking about what they had done in the 5 years since they had graduated high school. Caleb told him about Xhorhas, how fascinating the country was, how strange it felt to be one of the very few humans on the school's campus there. He had learned Undercommon out of necessity but ended up loving the language itself very quickly. In return Fjord told him about the garage where he had met Yasha, and her convincing him to apply for school. About meeting Caduceus not long after and his shift into following the Wildmother. Caleb had never been religious, but he beamed and gave Fjords hand a squeeze when he talked about the peace she had brought into his life.

Eventually, they were pulled back into conversation with the others, but Fjord's heart swelled when he realized that Caleb wasn’t pulling his hand away. They stayed that way the rest of the night, Caleb interlocking their fingers when they all got up to stumble towards the bus stop. Caleb leaned heavily on him as they waited, the others were trying to decide who’s place to head to for the rest of the night. Fjord tugged him in close, leaning his head on Caleb's when it landed against his shoulder as the others settled on Molly and Yasha’s place. The ground started to walk, since the little rental house was off campus and the weather was still reasonable.

There was something so wonderful about how easily they had slipped back into physical touch. It had taken Fjord years to break down Caleb’s walls enough the first time, and part of him had worried (however briefly) that it would be like starting over.

Instead, it felt like nothing had changed between them, like the last five years hadn’t happened at all.

“Last one there has to clean the dishes tomorrow!” Jester shrieked, starting to sprint off in the direction of the house.

“Fuck that!” “No fucking way!”

Fjord smirked down at Caleb, tightening his grip on the other man's hand before he gave chase along with the others. Beau had taken an obvious lead but had slowed down slightly to stay close to Jester and Yasha. Molly and Jester were cheering and swearing and laughing interchangeably into the night as they ran, and Fjord found himself laughing along. After a few blocks, when his heart had really started to pound and he was beginning to regret that last beer, Caleb tugged his hand.

“Can we please stop running?” he panted as Fjord slowed “I think I am dying”

Fjord chuckled as he slowed more to a walk, then stopped completely, watching Caleb press a hand to his chest.

“I am dying, definitely”

“No, you’re not” Fjord chuckled, joy and adrenaline making him brave as the sounds of the others faded into the night “c’mere, look”

He moved in close, pressing the tips of his fingers to Caleb’s neck and feeling the thundering pulse under his skin.

“See? Perfectly fine, very much alive”

Caleb looked up at him now, cheeks flushed dark with exertion and hair a wild mess... Fjord wondered when the tie had come loose.

“Are you sure?” Caleb's free hand came up to rest on top of his “I am not convinced”

Fjord's cheeks heated up past the point of the run as Caleb slid their hands down from his neck to rest on his chest instead. Fjord could feel his heart pounding in time with Caleb’s as his voice dropped nearly to a whisper.

“I missed you very much Fjord” his tongue darted across his bottom lip and Fjord’s eye followed the motion “I always... There were so many things I never managed to tell you; I have regretted it ever since”

“Tell me now then Cay, it’s just us”

“It has always been us Fjord” he took a deep breath “It has always been you for me, all this time away I—it was always you”

“Caleb--” Fjord's heart leapt “Fuck, all these years and we’re just now...” he trailed off with a smile, bringing his hand from Caleb's chest up to cup his jaw lightly “Can I kiss you?”

“Gods yes”

“Finally.” Fjord teased, leaning down to lock their lips together.

Caleb sighed happily into the kiss, tilting his head to get a better angle as Fjord walked them off the sidewalk and pressed Caleb’s back to a large tree. How long they stayed that way, trading kisses and whispered words of endearment, he couldn’t say but eventually (far too soon) the sounds of their friends had completely faded and they knew they ought to continue on their way. If they didn’t someone was sure to come looking, and they would never hear the end of it. The others wore knowing looks when they finally got back to the house, hands locked and faces flushed. Beau handed Caleb a new hair tie and a drink, but nothing was said about it for the moment, and Fjord was grateful. The evening wore on, with more drinks and stories and games, and with Caleb curled up against Fjord’s side.

Come morning, tired but content, they stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, and Fjord couldn’t help but feel like the evening had definitely been worth the wait... and doing the dishes.

#2.2k of fluff? on my dash? its more likely than you think #widofjord #critical role fanfiction #prompt fill #dice prompt #fluff

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years ago

Text

more like honeymoon [2]

previous part

word count: 3769

warnings: loving couple throws fists

music: in the text

LOS ANGELES by blink-182 segment

You had a dream that the prison world was being destroyed. The fearful suspicion was on the back of your mind at all times, but you didn’t know how to express it. Kai always said you were the more paranoid one. All the bad outcomes, you always considered them. You argued that this kind of pessimistic outlook saved your live even when you didn’t know it did. Well, look where you are now, he would reply. Not that it’s bad, so I don’t know what I’m trying to prove here. He just liked to argue.

The white light together with earthquake came, and the ground crumbled beneath your feet. Kai was somewhere away, you could only see his silhouette as he stood on a hill or something. You were now staying in Los Angeles. The end came while you were running to him, the whiteness becoming your least favorite color. Your heart was tearing apart because you were so tired of something constantly trying to stop you from being together.

You woke up in your happy crowdless realm, the queen of enclosed nothingness, and felt like you wanted to go home for the first time. Just because this dimension was more fragile.

Kai was sleeping next to you, his nose deep in the pillow, and you had no idea which part of him was responsible for breathing. Like in a trance, you crawled out of bed and left through the balcony doors to look down on the city lit by nobody, to make sure the world was intact. It didn’t, and wouldn’t, go anywhere. You got used to being here alone and having it all, so quickly, a part of you couldn’t imagine sharing this planet, and Kai, with anybody.

When you returned to bed, Kai was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. His hand took your chin and turned your head to him.

“Where were you?”

“I had a bad dream”.

Kai was a pro in bad dreams. He had a black belt in going back to hell through his dreams. Agonizing, long, realistic nightmares plagued his head no matter how deep he shoved it under the blankets. He looked a little strict for someone who consoles another after a bad dream. You had your suspicions he had other things on his mind. Sometimes you would catch him observe you as if he was expecting you to run away.

LA1 by Moby segment

You were finishing the book. This was the book you’ve been meaning to read ever since you were fourteen. When everybody nailed it at school, you were busy with other more interesting stuff, and so, you never ended up reading it. Now was the epitome of everybody’s ‘one day’. People leave interesting tv shows, tedious chores, the best packs of cookies and postponed hobbies for that cryptic ‘one day’ but it never comes. Not for most people at least. Now, you two, more so you than Kai, finally faced this neverending time period to do everything procrastination took away from you. You finally were finishing that damn book.

As you laid there at the pool of your new house, and the sun was sending blinding specks jumping off the water, Kai was drawing complicated shapes on the side of your leg and looking down the valley of Los Angeles, the city where he was king. Just like everywhere else.

“I think I have memorized every inch of you by now”, he said.

You swallowed down a sigh, because you were about fourteen pages away from the end. You knew when Kai started talking, there would be nothing else but talking for at least fifty minutes.

“Good, now, if I get into a horrible car crash and get terribly disfigured you will recognize my body one way or another”, you replied, trying to at least finish the page. Kai’s hand laid on the paper, pulling it away.

“Once we get out”, you smiled.

“If we get out”, he corrected you.

You let go of the book he was pulling away. He didn’t like sharing you.

“You think... we’ll be here long?”

“The spell is all we have, and it’s useless”, he shrugged like he didn’t care. “There’s nothing else. The ascendant is out there, and we don’t have a Bennet here to cut her...”

“Do these things have expiration date?” you asked, worried, “is it possible that one day, this prison will collapse and disappear?”

He looked at you, his hand caressing your knee absently.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s awesome here though, isn’t it? You like it, right?”

“Of course I do”, you nodded, without giving it too much thought. You looked down to the city where Kai’s gaze has been wandering earlier. “I’m still waiting for the horror to kick in, but it doesn’t. Either I’m too jaded to care, or...”

You bit your lip hard, thinking, whether you’re willing to spoil him. Parker’s palm squeezed your skin lightly. His hands were always warm, and he never refused to tickle you. He was a perfect guy to live with in a prison world: impossible to exhaust, handsy and resourceful. He could stay in one place for weeks, or drive through several states in one day. He knew every part of this magical planet and never felt lost anymore. It was bittersweet how this luxury of traveling without any discomfort came after eighteen years of him agonizing here alone.

He looked good with the hills of Los Angeles on the background, serving as colorful addition to him. His dark hair, and gun-like eyes, his demeanor of rich cynical kid who’s going to do you on the kitchen counter and never call again - only, Kai was following you everywhere.

“Or?” he took you out of your pondering. He didn’t like that either, when you drifted off in the middle of conversation. What are you thinking about? Who are you thinking about, Y/N? His tone of voice always said, I took you as far as an enchanted prison world so that you can’t see other guys, and you still have your head in the clouds.

“The feeling of having everything you need in your arms is intoxicating”, you sighed. The fundemental sensation of being completely satisfied with your life, while being in a literal prison world, came from the realization. Kai Parker was the final point of whatever path you’ve been striding. You weren’t one for professing your love passionately, or expressing it many times. But this one time you felt like you needed to get it off your chest.

“You ever had that?”

He blinked.

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to move on? You wanted to see Fontana, right?” he asked, a bit lost, and he sounded like his mouth was dry. You took your book back from him.

“Pomona first”.

That night there was vivid change in Kai; instead of pounding you into the bed, like he usually did, as you both enjoyed it, he laid low, pressing you into the matrass with all his body. You felt almost like suffocating on the long, stretching feeling he was drilling into you with passionate, deep movements. For the first time you felt what it was like when you’re trying to jump out of your own skin with pleasure, after all the crying and moaning is just not enough.

“Wait for me, baby”, he was whispering, as you two moved together, hips to hips, shoulders to shoulders, and you thought your eyes will pop out, that maybe your nails are already halfway inside his shoulder blades. Kai was changing; he has been for some time now. He was becoming calmer and happier, and now, as he was making you come and told you to hold on at the same time, for a second there you could see him, shed of all his layers. The Kai Parker he would’ve been many years before, many tortures and catastrophes, and murders ago. The magic, devilish temptation, malevolence, misery and memories aside, there he finally was, a person who was begging you not to come without him, because even that, he didn’t want to do alone. As you clutched the hair on the back of his head, soft, just slightly curly, you felt your body fill with love, that kind that never really lets go of you. Because you finally saw the last manifestation of him, the last entity that lived in him, and it needed you, and loved you.

Kai, too, was making love as opposed to your usual experimental mutual fucking. Both types brought you joy; after he collapsed on the pillow next to you, you knew he would never be the old Kai. You could feel it in your guts.

I’M ON FIRE by Bruce Springsteen segment

“I could take you literally anywhere, and you still choose America”.

You dragged your now big bag on the glistening asphalt, sweating in heat, and gave up, motioning towards it.

“Technically, Hawaii...”

“Technically, Hawaii is America”, he nodded, picking up your bag, “but I hear you”.

“The Pacific, Kai”.

“You know what I did when I was here?” he asked, for the thousandth time in nine months.

“Climbed the Everest”, you chanted, rolling your eyes.

“Climbed the Everest”, he noted proudly. It took about a week? for you to convince him you weren’t interested in dying forty-five times before you finally reach the top of the mountain. He clicked his tongue finally, saying there’s no adventure to you. That’s how you ended up jumping off the Grand Canyon. Dares always led you to some drastic decisions you later regretted.

You settled on the famous North Shore, where the ocean was blue and green, and the palm trees swayed every day... all the day. At three oh seven, it rained for eleven minutes, and then, a majestic double rainbow stood above Oahu. The evening was so beautiful you felt you wouldn’t get tired of it in a hundred years. It’s really hard to get tired of hawaiian sunsets. Everything was perfect.

Until your phone rang.

When you were clutching on Kai, your belly bag was on you, together with all essential things in the world of the twenty-first century. You had your phone in there, the charger in case of anything, car keys, wallet, pack of plasters and some gum. It all traveled with you into the world of ‘94, and that’s how you listened to music from the future in the world of the past. The charger was especially useful, because you could keep your phone turned on and took pictures. Literally everything you did resembled a young couple’s honeymoon. You were forced to delete everything from your phone though, so that it could contain all the photos from different places. You even joked that, once you run out of space completely, it’ll be time to go home.

Another once we get out moment.

Now, your phone, that survived here for nine months because you were charging it regularly, rang, and you didn’t even pay attention at first. It hasn’t rung before. This thing is not supposed to ring, it’s supposed to play music and take pictures of Kai as he is being adorable, sleeping in his king-sized bed, his head buried in the pillow.

You stood like a dummy in the middle of the parking lot, waiting for him to bring the bags to the car. And the phone was ringing.

What is this noise? you thought. Then your hand slipped into your pocket, and your heart got confused as to whether to sink or to leap. Your brain got squeezed inside your skull. Rage, and relief, and worry filled you. You knew so many things at the same time. Suddenly you knew you missed home like crazy. You missed leaving the house and seeing dumb people around. You missed not being a spoiled brat living in the houses that didn’t belong to you. Missed the traffic on the streets, and you missed animals and birds. In this world, there weren’t so much as spiders, crawling around and creeping you out. Not a mosquito, not a lousy worm. No sharks in the ocean, no swallows in the skies.

Also, you knew you’d kick Damon’s ass so hard he’s going to choke on his own kidneys. You recalled the moment you threw yourself in front of Kai, so full of yourself, and announced,

you wanna send him away again, you gotta send me with him

and Damon looked at you with his ever exhausted silver eyes of a jaded cat, and said,

okay.

And sent you, the person he used to call a friend, into the prison world.

Also, you knew, somehow, that Kai will be unhappy about this. Many times that he asked you ‘you like it here, right?’ you felt he was now clinging on the very place he used to be horrified of. It was way more than your own ego, so you barely thought that it was you that changed his perception. You were secretly scared his mind will start telling him this condition of things is normal. That only two people in the world is normal. And he won’t want to leave once the chance comes. That all his once we get outs is just him playing along with you, while he knows, in the back of his mind, that you’re never getting out, and he doesn’t care if it drives you crazy.

You answered the phone and didn’t say anything. Damon was silent, too, for a second.

“Well”, he said finally, “how you lovin’ it?”

You found his cockiness inappropriate. Not like he has locked you in a closet with a bully and came round in fourteen minutes to check on you.

“What is it? Are you here?” you asked, you throat dry.

Kai left the supermarket and was about a hundred steps away. It was going to rain in half an hour.

“Yes, we decided to pick you up, so to say”, he replied shortly.

“You decided I have learnt my lesson? Decided I was now good to go home, that’s what you decided?” you asked, your voice bubbling inside your throat like a pillar of boiling air.

“Give it to me...” Elena’s voice was closing, and your lungs trembled. You have missed them all. Even the Salvatore douche. God how you missed others. You could see Kai slowed down. He had very good eyes, and he saw you were holding your hand to your ear. He was fifty steps away.

“Y/N, where are you? We came to get you back home. Listen, we never meant to...”

“Ask her about Parker”.

“Are you alright? Are you with him?”

“We’re not taking him with us!”

Your voice quivered.

“I’m fine”.

It came out less bitter than you meant; like you were about to cry, while in reality you were bursting with rage.

“Is he keeping you there? Or has he left you there alone?”

“What do you mean?”

The audacity of them. Left you alone. They’re the only ones who throw their friends into magical prison worlds, for nothing.

“Well, he has stolen the ascendant. We had to build a new one”.

“What are you talking about? Kai doesn’t have the ascendant”.

There was silence. Through the flapping hot hawaiian air, you could see Kai with the paper bags walking towards you.

“Yes, he does”, Elena chuckled sadly. “We thought he’d be out by now”.

“We only found one useless spell, Elena”, you growled, “how are we supposed to get out without Bonnie’s blood?”

“Oh my god”, you heard Damon mutter. The palm trees started swaying in front of you. You knew now yet another thing. You were just afraid to think it.

“Bonnie conjured that one without blood. We didn’t have much time, Y/N. It was just the spell, and the ascendant. You’re saying he found it? Why hasn’t he got out then?”

All your guts sank down there together with your mind. At the same time, there was nothing to be shocked about. The signs were all there. You never even showed interest enough for him to share about the ritual of traveling between the worlds.

“That fucking liar was keeping me here”.

“Y/N, where are you?” Elena was almost yelling now.

“Tell her to go back”.

“Is he abusing you?”

Your face got distorted with anger and bitterness at the same time; you could feel you’re grimacing at him, as the musles in your face and neck went tense.

A gust of wind slapped you in the face, and the phone slipped out of your hand. The invisible pull was so sudden you were grabbed, too, and nearly fell on your face, as the clutch pulled on your hand a little.

“Kai!”

The phone shot through the air, right into his hand, and fifteen steps away, you could see he was furious already. The temper of this guy.

He hopped through the air. Your head was ringing with the echoes of their voices.

Kai couldn’t wait to walk another couple of meters, so he just leaped to you using magic. Perhaps he also did it to startle you more; as he reemerged next to you, his hand laid on your throat, and not the usual possessive sensual way, but ‘i’m about to squeeze the life out of you’ way this time. Your head bumped on the side of the car. The only reason he didn’t smash the phone on the ground was probaby the amount of fantastic pics it held.

“What did he say?” Kai growled.

If you could talk, or breathe, you’d say he’s a dick. You fought him, the anger giving you strength, your fists hitting him into the chest and stomach.

“Is he coming for you?”

Kai was screaming, and you have never seen him like that. For a moment there it felt like the old Parker, the miserable, uncontrollable, lightning throwing witch was back in his skin again, and you couldn’t take it to fix him all over again.

Your hands grabbed on his forearm as you kicked him in the shin as hard as you could. Kai yelled, letting you go, and you could finally breathe.

“Dick”, you scolded, “you dick”.

Your voice was hoarse. He didn’t hear you. Kai was suddenly full of demonic fear and fury, and the noise; he barely felt pain which let go of him in a second.

“You’ve been lying to me?!”

“You’re not going anywhere”, he said, his voice quivering with how much he contained inside. All the acid lava sleeping in the depths of his being, frozen by the comfort of not being disturbed, like he was locked away in a mental institution, now rose again and illuminated his skin from the inside.

“You’re lying to me!”

Too bad you lost it, too. Kai might have become a little like you; but you have become a little like him, too.

“You said there was no way out! While you had the ascendant all along? From day one!”

“You said you liked it here!”

You charged at him, your fist up, and he blocked it easily, hitting you in the stomach.

So, he beats girls, too!

He was never good at seeing the kick coming. God knows why, if you wanted to defeat Kai Parker, you just kicked him with one of your legs. He never sees it coming. The fight exhausted both of you as you screamed atrocities at each other. You knew you were just letting the frustration out; that kind that floods over you when you realize you’ve been wasting months in the prison world while you had all the means of getting out that whole time.

Kai, however, was fueled by something more sinister than that.

You never really meant to hurt him. Just punch him in the teeth for being a proper dick. He knew he was doing wrong, otherwise he wouldn’t be asking this ‘you like it here, right?’ like a broken record all the time.

And like a fool, you always replied, yes, because it was truth.

He now believed you’ve been lying to him, too, like a scared cat that was suddenly brought in at the vet clinic and the doctor was clicking the long metal scissors in front of him. He felt betrayed. He thought you’re dreaming of getting out and see your friends again.

“I am not enough for you! You have the whole world! And me! So what, you meant something else when you said that I am everything you need?” he yelled. Almost at the top of his lungs. The clouds were meanwhile gathering above Manoa, to release the rain in ten minutes.

“I meant it!”

“Then why do you need to leave?!”

“Not me - us!”

“We are not going anywhere! You’re staying here, with me!”

“No, you listen to me, Parker, we’re going back there, together, just like we arrived here! This”, you pointed your finger at the wretched sky where even the rain was on schedule, “is not real”.

As soon as those words left your mouth, you knew he’d misinterpret them.

His mouth moved like he was about to tear down his own face and bit yours off with the bloodied teeth of a skeleton. You could feel your lower lip swell. Blood was dripping down your chin because of how hard you fell on your face after he threw you away with his witchy move. You were about to break his jaw completely, and it was his own doing. If he hadn’t wanted you to become a fighter, he shouldn’t have taught you.

Your right fist was shaking with pain. It felt like you shattered your knuckles completely beating on his stupid head. Nothing in the world could set it right.

“What did you say?”

You felt mortally tired. It felt like when you stood on the edge of the Canyon, like when you were about to fall.

“Kai, this world is fiction. We need to go back out there...”

“It doesn’t work out there!”

“It will”.

He panted. He spat the blood on the ground, and you felt like you wanted to stop fighting and start making out.

The paper bags were scattered all around the car, one lonely banana forgotten under the blazing sun.

“I will fucking kill you for lying to me”, you sighed.

“I thought you loved me”, Kai responded, his voice dead, and your heart shuddered.

“I fucking do!” you roared.

“Then why do you...”

and that, all over again.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #tvd imagine

83 notes · View notes

bbykpoper · 4 years ago

Photo

𝓒𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓭𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 💐

Inspired by this post 🌼

Pairing: florist!yeosang x photographer!reader

Index: Jongho // Hongjoong // Seonghwa // San // Yunho // Wooyoung // Mingi

･*:༅

“We have the best wedding photographer on hand, she is currently at a photo shoot, so if you wish to see her work you are more than welcome to.” A tall young man spoke to the couple in front of them with a smile. “May I just say, it would be an honour to do your photos. Our whole studio simply adores your sweets!”

“Say it louder, I don’t think they heard how desperate you are Johnny.”

“Shut it Mark.”

Glares were exchanged. Small breathless laughs followed the exchange between the boys as the couple nodded in assurance.

“We’d love to work with your studio, and it would be really awesome if we could see the photographer at work!” Song Mingi exclaimed as he held his fianceé’s hand. “When do we leave?”

“Oh, you guys don’t have to go far.” The boy in the hoodie with glasses, named Mark, spoke from the corner. “They’re on the roof.”

“Wonderful, let’s go!”

Johnny was quick to guide them up the steps and through the door. The couple was met with a sight out of a fiction novel. There was a young beauty in a white dress standing in the middle of a field of dandelions the sun beautifully shading her figure on the ground as a bubbly you jumped from one side to another, your dark hair adorned with a very badly made flower crown.

“That’s her right there, the jumpy rabbit.” Mark pointed at the you in the cargo pants and flower crown on your head. “She’s overly excited sometimes.”

“Y/N!” Johnny yelled out, making you stop and turned to him, your facial features designed to murder him.

“What do you want Johnton?” You asked with a sigh. “Can it wait until the sun rises fully, I’m getting some good material here.”

“Oh yeah, no problem.” He waved. “We’ll just observe the magic.”

“Yeah yeah.” You ignored him as you went back to work, now bringing in the groom as well.

Mingi and his significant other watched you with vigour in their eyes, happy that they decided to go with their guts and come down to this particular studio to get a photographer for their big day. Johnny and Mark stood beside the couple and nodded knowing that you had just convinved them to pay you for a photo shoot.

“Congradulations on your day.” You said to the husband and wife as they happily left the vacinity of your studio. With a small smile on your face you turned towards your friends/roommates/co-workers and their new clients, a big question mark above your head. “Hi, I’m y/n. The main photographer here at NCT photos.”

“Hi, I’m Song Mingi and this is my future wife.”

“Welcome, take a seat please.” You said and sat in between Johnny and Mark. “How can we help you?”

“Our wedding is in a month and our photographer quit on us last minute.” He began explaining to you. “And a friend of ours reffered you guys, so we came here as soon as we could to see if we could book you guys to do our wedding.”

“So which date would that be?” You pulled out a small planner littered in stickers and opened it to the calendar page of the next month.

“It’s on the 7th.”

“That’s in a week.” Mark deadpanned his face embodying the pikachu meme.

“Yeah.” Both of them scratched their necks. “To be honest, I proposed three weeks ago.”

“Wow.” Johnny whistled and looked at his friends. “You think we could do this?”

“Where is the wedding?” You asked, just nodding at Johnny’s question.

“It’s going to be at our little home. The back yard is vast and there is space to do the shoot as well as hold the wedding.”

“Can we decorate the shoot according to your wishes?”

“Yes. We’ll provide you guys with everything. Except the flowers...” Mingi looked at you. “I want to have flowers which will fully bring out my future wife’s beauty. So I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Sure, no problem.” You gave a thumbs up. “I’ll just go down to Jihyo’s place later.”

“Great, we have a friend who works there.” Both said.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Kang Yeosang.”

･*:༅

The wheezing laughter that came from Mark had your eye twitching in annoyance. The three of you sat at Sugarberry’s, Johnny patting your shoulder in reassurance while Mark just kept on wheeze laughing while he tried to drink his watermelon flaovured lemonade. Ever since Mingi and his fianceé came by their studio wanting to book them as their photographers and the notion that Yeosang, your not so subtle fan, was their friend and your future co-worker had Mark dying.

You were friends with these two since elementary school. You guys went to the same middle and high school, only parting ways with Mark in college but still living together ever since. Johnny and you opened this small but very well known photography studio in your senior year of college and Mark jumped on the band wagon as a film maker and editor. Ever since then you guys were thriving in your job.

“Can you stop laughing?” You groaned out, sinking deeper into your hoodie. “I don’t think it’s that funny.”

“But it is.” He said, brushing off a tear from his eye. “You’ll be finally working together with Yeosang. How is that not funny?”

“You’re mean.” You mumbled underneath your breath.

“Come on Mark, y/n didn’t make fun of you when you had a crush on your visual arts teacher.” Johnny sighed, taking a bite of his pastry. “Remember, the teacher that had you all hot and bothered?”

“But why don’t you just admit it to yourself that you like him?” Mark suddenly straightened up at the mention of his college visual arts professor. “I mean you do like him?”

“I don’t know okay?” You sighed, playing with the straw of your coffee. “I do consider him to be attractive physically, but how can I like someone who I don’t even know?”

“Well, the easy answer is to get to know him.” Johnny shrugged his shoulders. “For now, you can at least tell him you’ll come to visit the flower shop.” He pointed at the blond boy who smiled shyly at you and waved, having you wave back.

“He didn’t hear our conversation, right?” You asked with an awkward smile on your face.

“I don’t think so.” Mark added, turning around to say hi to him. “You’re good.”

With a deep breath you stood up from your table and walked over to the boy who patiently waited in line to get to order his drinks. You softly tapped his shoulder to gain his attention and his ears turned a soft shade of pink when he figured out who was trying to gain his attention.

“Hi.” You softly greeted.

“Hi.” The smile which glowed on his face almost blinded your cat-like eyes.

“Came to get a drink?”

“Yeah. Jihyo has some orders and couldn’t go out to get us something to drink.” He nodded. “You guys done with work?”

“We’re just beginning.” You sighed. “Mingi booked us to work his wedding. I was surprised he decided to go through with a wedding only after three weeks of engagement.”

“Yeah, they actually pinned for each other for the past two years but were too dumb to notice the other.” Yeosang looked over at Mingi happily whistling in the back and making some cakes. “Oh to be in love.”

You looked up at him and got lost in the warmth he radiated from his body. The afternoon sun nicely shaped his facial features with those deep shadows and you had to control yourself as to not blush or show just how much it affected you.

“Yeah, must be nice.” Your eyes longingly stayed on him. “By the way, I’ll be dropping by the flower shop tomorrow. I need to pick out some flowers for Mingi’s photo shoot.”

“Really?” His eyes seemed to light up even more.

“Yeah, really.” You smiled at him.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

･*:༅

Jihyo sat in silence and observed the two as they went about the shop considering some flowers which were supposed to fit the couple. Johnny also stood on the side next to Jihyo and snorted when both Yeosang and you touched hands as you went to take hold of a gardenia flower at the same time.

“Please tell me they’re not dumb like Mingi and his girlfriend.” Jihyo commented.

“No. They know that the other likes them, but y/n has a problem connecting with others who she doesn’t know on a friendly basis.” Johnny added. “It’s a good and bad thing at the same time.”

“So, they just need to be friends first?” Jihyo asked.

“I mean they technically are...?” The tall man sighed. “But yeah. They need to hang out a bit more.”

Jihyo sat in though for a few minutes before motioning to Johnny to follow her lead.

“Guys, I need to go out and pick up some stuff for the shop so I’m leaving this little task of picking the best flowers to you Yeosang.” Jihyo said, and grabbed Johnny to drag him out. “I will need Johnny’s help too. Have fun y/n.”

“Good luck.” You waved at them, not really paying attention or mind to anything.

Yeosang caught on quickly to Jihyo’s plan because she basically gave him a thumbs up and wink to go for it. He suddenly became very nervous and skittish and you noticed it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

“Nothing.” He simply answered. “How about making some flower crowns for them? I know Mingi’s wife would like some.”

“Great idea!” You exclaimed clapping your hands together, but quickly coming to terms with a small problem. “Only... I’m shit at making those.”

“You can’t be that bad-” You pulled out your camera and showed him some pictures of Mark mocking your hand woven flower crown. “-okay, you’re just not experienced. But I can teach you.”

And so, you spent the next two hours learning how to properly make flower crowns and finally succeeded in making a beautiful one out of the small flowers of a cloudberry.

“I did it!” You smiled at Yeosang widely.

“Yeah. You did.”

The dreamy look in his eyes had you blushing furiously as a sudden thought ran through your mind. Somehow you’ve come to know Yeosang a bit more through this little activity the both of you did and it gave you courage that maybe, the crush you had on him, and the crush he had on you, could work out into something more. But you had to be sure, so you took the next step.

“So, because I have to get everything ready and in order for the wedding next week, do you want to help me out?” You asked, your ears burning from the heat your cheeks produced.

Yeosang blinked a few times but nodded, shy and small, a smile playing on his lips.

“I’d love to.”

“Great. Is it okay if you come over tomorrow after your shift?”

“As in, come over to your home?”

“Yeah, I share an appartment with Johnny and Mark next to the NCT studio. Both of them have other business to attend to so they won’t be home and we can work in peace.” God this seemed to be so intimate but not at the same time. “You can say no if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No!” He suddenly said making you frown and avert your gaze. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly corrected himself. “What I meant to say was that I am not uncomfortable and it’s totally fine being alone with you.” Great Yeosang, now she will think you’re desperate. “I’ll come over after 4 p.m.”

“Awesome.” Johnny came in with Jihyo just as you said. “Johnny look, I finally made a normal flower crown.” You flaunted your handy work to your friend. “All thanks to Yeosang.”

“Nice. Let’s go show it to Mark and make him suffer for ever mocking your crooked ones before.” He laughed. “See you around guys.”

“See ya.” You waved at them both and left the shop.

“So did it help being alone with her?” Jihyo asked, glancing at a blushy mess of a co-worker.

“Yes. I’m going over to her place tomorrow.” He whispered out, squating down and holding his face in his arms. “God, I feel like a high school kid who had his first kiss.”

Jihyo laughed and patted the man’s shoulder reassuringly. You managed to make Mark swallow his words and admit you did an awesome job with these new flower crowns. The day had ended with you laying in your bed, your head on your soft pillow with thoughts of Yeosang drifting you off to sleep, the flower crown you made proudly placed on your bed-side table as the night shifted darker.

･*:༅

“We made quite a lot haven’t we.” Yeosang commented as he finished his 40th dandelion crown since he came over. “What are we gonna do with so many?”

“Give them out to the guests. It’ll look nice in the photos.” You shrugged your shoulders as you texted Mingi’s future wife to tell her the plan. “She agreed to it. And Mingi seems to be excited.”

“Yeah, he does that when it comes to her.” Yeosang smiled solemnly.

“We’re done for today. The rest of the work is mostly on Mark and Johnny’s shoulders now.” You smiled and looked outside.

It was about 5.45 p.m. and you knew that soon the sun was going to set. You looked over to the window and noticed the furry friend you were waiting for and opened the glass which separated you two to have him jump into your arms and lick your nose slightly.

“Where have you been Dandelion?” You asked the grey cat as he purred in your hold. “Want some tuna with that love of yours.” You joked and placed him down before opening a can and placing it in his bowl so he can freely munch on it.

“You have a cat?” Yeosang asked, observing the interaction with soft eyes.

“Yeah. Technically he is a stray but likes to cuddle from time to time. He hates Mark and Johnny for some reason, but likes me and dandelion flowers, hence the name.” You shrugged your shoulders as you petted his head while he ate. “By the way, wanna see something cool?”

“Sure.” Yeosang stood up as you jumped out the window onto the connecting roof of a building next to your appartment.

He followed your lead as you kept walking and climbing on to a spot which had an outdoor lounge are filled with bean bags and a small wooden table.

“This is a secret rest area for the NCT studio which I usually use to take pictures of the sunset.” You said, plopping down on one of the bean bags. “Take a seat. You want something cold to drink?”

“Sure.” You grabbed two iced-teas and turned to give him one but were met with Dandelion cozying up to him instead.

“So he likes you.”

“It seems so.” He laughed and took the tea you offered him, opening it swiftly with one hand. “It’s so beautiful.”

You looked over at the setting sun. “Yeah. It is.” You took a sip of your tea and sneakily took a photo of Yeosang and your cat. “By the way. I have something to tell you.” You were now certain.

“What’s up?” Yeosang turned to look at your profile which was being bathed in the setting sun.

“I like you.” You said, not daring to look at him before taking a deep breath. “I like you more than a friend.”

Your eyes met for a brief second, you holding your breath as you waited for any type of reaction. The sudden blush which creeped up to his ears and down to his neck was a bit worrying but you still waited. He looked down at his hands and pinched his cheek to see if he was dreaming or not.

“I like you too. More than a friend.” He whispered out and laughed to himself holding his face in his hands, before finally pulling you to him, and placing his chin on your head. “I’m so happy. Like really happy to know the feeling is mutual.”

“Me too.” You said, burrying your face into his shoulder. “I want to try dating. Like, couple stuff too. And everything that goes with it.” You mumbled. “I think I can trust you.”

“Then we will do all that!” He said looking at you.

The both of you placed your foreheads against each others, smiling like idiots. The sun set in the background peacefully as Dandelion purred in Yeosang’s lap. Life was beautiful, serene and fluffy.

Just like the clouds and berries of this series.

#ateez imagines #kang yeosang #ateez #ateez reaction #cloudberry

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homeformyheart · 4 years ago

Text

the perfect gift (part 2) - noah harris x mc (mtfl)

author’s note: part 2 in the sequel/follow-up to first choice. there are mentions of the crimson veil, the club owned by priya lacroix from bloodbound, danni from it lives beneath and justin mercado from save the date as a friends/classmates of emma’s.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. song lyrics belong to their respective artists. series/pairing: my two first loves - noah harris x mc (emma price) cross-series references: danni asturias (it lives beneath); justin mercado (save the date); the crimson veil (bloodbound) rating/warnings: 18+; smut between 🔥⚡ and ❄💧 icons word count: 6.3k based on/prompt: club scene visuals inspired by the songs “jealous” by nick jonas and “shape of you” by ed sheeran summary: emma spent months carefully planning noah’s 21st birthday gift and drove up to surprise him at hartfeld for the weekend, but things go south after a big fight makes them both reevaluate their relationship after three years together.

read first choice to learn how they got together in the first place.

read part 1.

the perfect gift (part 2)

emma rubbed her eyes sleepily as she fumbled around her nightstand for her phone so she could turn off the blaring alarm. she got in late the night before after driving all night from hartfeld and collapsed on the bed, grateful that she was at least so physically exhausted that she fell asleep right away instead of being kept up by the emotional rollercoaster of that night. she turned off the alarm and checked the time. it was already noon and she did not want to spend all day in bed feeling sorry for herself. she also noticed she still had no new messages or missed phone calls from noah, but he was likely still sleeping off all the alcohol he drank the night before.

after a very long shower, emma stood in front of her bathroom mirror, taking stock of how puffy her eyes looked. her phone started ringing from the room and she hurried out to answer it. she felt a slight twinge of disappointment when she saw that it was her friend and photography grad student danni and not noah, but she answered it. she had forgotten they agreed to grab lunch after she told her about what happened as she was heading back from hartfeld. she was going to have to rush if she was going to make it to the restaurant in time.

emma plopped into the booth across from danni and gave her friend a tired smile. danni gave her a sympathetic smile. “you look like crap.”

“thanks,” emma replied sarcastically, quickly scanning the menu and putting her order in. “i’m just annoyed with myself. i have every right to be upset with him and i should be mad. but instead i just feel…” she bit her lip. “worried.”

danni took a bite of her burger and chewed thoughtfully. “that makes sense. you still care about him and love him. one fight isn’t going to change that overnight. but haven’t you guys argued about this before? maybe you need to reconsider the long-distance thing. i don’t like seeing what this does to you.”

emma nodded, forcing herself to eat the food in front of her. “yeah, but something feels different this time. usually he texts or calls right away but i haven’t heard from him. i just don’t know if he meant what he said last night or not. and whether it’s over and even worth talking about.”

“look, emma, i get that he’s your high school sweetheart and you guys have been together for a long time. but what he did last night was uncalled for and you should definitely not reach out to him first. he needs to own up to what he did first,” danni said with a sigh.

“you’re right. i know you’re right, but… it’s his 21st birthday today,” emma said softly, looking at her phone longingly at the photo of her and noah on her lockscreen.

danni snatched up emma’s phone from the table. “okay, here’s the plan. you get to send him one happy birthday text. just one. then you’re blocking his number for the rest of the day and going out with me tonight. we’ll go shopping for the perfect club outfit and we are going to be single ladies living it up tonight, just leave it all to me.”

emma knew better than to protest when danni doled out orders like that and she was too physically and emotionally exhausted to care. so when danni gave her the phone back, she sent a simple happy birthday text and blocked noah’s number. she could assume they were broken up for tonight, right?

* * * * * after buying the “perfect clubbing outfit,” grabbing a quick bite, and taking a long nap, emma stood in front of her reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking note of the dark circles under her eyes that she would need to cover up. she carefully applied gold on top of the violet shadow on her eyelids before lining both with a subtle smoky eye. the gold and violet would bring out the warmth of her form-fitting, dark red, off-the-shoulder, short-sleeve dress had a sweetheart neckline and fitted corset that definitely accentuated her curves. the dress went to her mid-thigh but had a wide slit up her left thigh. she pulled on her black leather stiletto boots, a pair of dangling leaf-shaped gold earrings, and swiped on a coat of matte red lipstick. she carefully styled her long, balayage dyed hair into a side fishtail braid.

even she had to admit, this look was perfect. she hoped she wouldn’t have to be outside for too long in the not-quite-winter autumn night chill since she wasn’t about to bring a coat to a club.

her phone buzzed with text notifications from danni:

[danni: hey, you ready yet? justin says he can sneak us in without IDs but only if we get there by 9:30!]

emma typed out a quick reply before double-checking she had what she needed in her wristlet. she took one last look in the mirror, her gaze falling on the small heart and “N” pendant nestled on a silver chain that she always wore around her neck. noah had given it to her as a birthday gift two years ago. without giving it a second thought, emma unclasped the necklace and left it on her nightstand before locking the door behind her as she headed out.

* * * * * noah pulled up in the visitor parking lot, which happened to sit between the drop-off roundabout and emma’s dorm building, and took off his helmet. the drive took a couple hours longer than usual, between the usual rest stops and extra stops he needed to make whenever he felt too nauseous or sleepy. it was already dark by the time he arrived and he ached all over. he took out his phone and tried to call emma to let her know he was here but the call went immediately to voicemail again. he sighed.

even though it was all he could think about when he wasn’t actively focused on how exhausted he was, he still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to emma. somehow, an apology alone didn’t seem like it would be enough. they had had these fights in the past where he would let out his bottled up insecurities after a night of drinking and he had promised to do better each time they reconciled. he was pretty sure he would need to own up to that.

“emma, come on, the dryve is here and i already texted justin a picture of your outfit so he’s definitely excited to see you!” noah perked up at emma’s name and looked up to see two figures walking across the quad toward the drop-off roundabout. even in the dark and from a distance, noah could tell which one was emma and the boots she was wearing was just enough for his imagination to start running south.

“slow down, i can’t run in these boots! also, why would you text justin that?” noah felt his heart ache when he heard emma’s voice. he really missed her and didn’t register right away that his feet had already started walking toward her.

“duh, because he’s had a crush on you since last year and i told him you were single.” noah froze. single? this had to be a joke, right? or maybe he was having a nightmare, some sort of hallucination from lack of sleep?

“danni, what the hell? i’m not… i mean, i haven’t,” emma stammered, frustrated.

danni just shrugged. “no one’s saying you have to do anything with justin. let him buy you drinks and then just blow him off by saying you’re not ready to move on yet. problem solved, now let’s go or we’re going to miss our chance to get into the crimson veil!”

emma sighed and let her friend drag her to the dryve waiting by the curb. as danni leaned in to double-check the driver’s identity, emma let her gaze wander across campus until she noticed a white motorcycle in the visitors’ lot that looked awfully familiar. she took a couple steps closer to get a clearer vantage point when she felt a hand on her wrist yank her back.

“what are you doing? come on!” she climbed into the car after danni but couldn’t help look out the window at the parking lot.

“that looks like noah’s bike,” she said softly, too soft for danni to hear.

noah watched as the car drove away. he desperately wanted to feel more like himself and then maybe he’d be able to come up with a game plan. it wouldn’t be easy to talk his way into the crimson veil, one of the most exclusive clubs in manhattan but he needed to get in before this “justin” person tried to make a move on emma. he looked back at emma’s dorm building with hesitation; he did have a copy of her room key and could let himself in to take a shower and change. it would show that he was serious about working things out with her, even if she got upset that he let himself into her room without her knowledge. he started walking quickly toward the building before he could talk himself out of it. he needed to look and feel his best if he was going to show up to that club and win back his girl.

* * * * * it didn’t take long for them to arrive at the club, and just like danni said, their names were on the list and the bouncer barely glanced at them as he let them in. emma followed danni toward the bar as her eyes adjusted to the dim club, accented by gaudy chandeliers and soft neon lights accenting the booths and dancefloor.

“this place is awesome! what do you want to drink?”

emma skimmed the drinks menu. “i want to take it easy with the drinks, you know my rule about emotional drinking. a gin and tonic is fine.”

danni rolled her eyes. “boring! as long as you do at least one tequila shot with me,” she turned away to relay their orders when emma felt the warmth of someone’s chest against her back. she shifted so she could see behind her and found herself looking up at justin mercado, his dark brown hair styled to the side. they had worked on a project together last year for their business communications class (she was double majoring in photography and media management with a minor in communications), but emma kept her distance and shut down any flirting immediately. tonight, however, emma was taken aback by how attractive he looked with his sharp, stubble-lined jaw and black dress shirt that highlighted his toned muscles.

“hey there,” he said with a smirk, reaching past her to hand his credit card to the bartender. “this round’s on me, ladies.”

“thanks justin!” danni beamed, handing him and emma a tequila shot and lime. hoping he hadn’t caught her checking him out, emma turned away to throw back the shot, cringing at the burn from the tequila.

justin led them to a corner booth in the back of the main floor once they got their drinks, far enough from the dance floor that they could somewhat hear each other over the music. danni pulled her hand as they climbed into the booth and emma knew she intentionally made it so justin would climb in after her, leaving emma sandwiched between the two. she inwardly rolled her eyes and tried to maintain a façade of interest in whatever justin had to say, while being aware of the distance between their bodies’ and the location of justin’s arm casually behind her on the back of the booth.

danni squealed as the opening lyrics of “shape of you” by ed sheeran started blasting from the club speakers, “the club isn’t the best place to find a lover; so the bar is where i go; me and my friends at the table doing shots; drinking fast and then we talk slow, emma, let’s dance!”

without waiting to see if emma would follow, danni got up and disappeared into the crowd. justin stood up next and held a hand out to her. “wanna dance?” he yelled over the music. emma hesitated and stared at his outstretched hand before looking up to give him a firm nod, letting him pull her up out of the booth. he held her hand firmly as he led them to the middle of the dancefloor.

girl, you know i want your love your love was handmade for somebody like me come on now, follow my lead i may be crazy, don't mind me say, boy, let's not talk too much grab on my waist and put that body on me come on now, follow my lead come, come on now, follow my lead

emma turned around and let justin place his hands on her hips. she put her hands over his to hold them in place as she swayed her hips from side to side; she didn’t want to lead him on, but they could still dance and have fun, right? she tried to stay aware of how close justin was dancing and avoid any unintentional grinding on her part while keeping up with the beat. she closed her eyes and allowed the warm buzz from the alcohol guide her movements to the music.

i’m in love with the shape of you we push and pull like a magnet do although my heart is falling too i’m in love with your body and last night you were in my room and now my bedsheets smell like you every day discovering something brand new i’m in love with your body

it took sweet talking a group of girls near the front of the line and bribing the bouncer, but noah finally made it into the club. given how difficult it was to get into, he wasn’t surprised to see that it wasn’t overcrowded like most clubs in the city. there were enough people to make the atmosphere fun but not so many that the only way someone could navigate the room is if they either squeezed through people or elbowed them hard enough to start a domino effect, which although comical in retrospect, would definitely result in getting kicked out.

he quickly made his way to the side of the bar furthest from the entrance, looking over his shoulder once to make sure the group of girls he snuck in with didn’t notice him sneak away. in case emma noticed him first, he’d rather not be surrounded by a group of girls in outfits that screamed “we’re competing for who can reveal the most skin and not get in trouble for public nudity.” he ordered his favorite drink and out of habit, briefly did a scan across the room to note the layout of the room, location of the bathrooms, security cameras, and all potential exits. once he got a lay of the land, so to speak, he leaned against the counter, sipping his whiskey. he started looking around more casually until his gaze landed on the woman who still took his breath away, dancing in a sexy dress he definitely hadn’t seen her in before.

noah’s eyes traced the way her dress left her shoulders and collarbone exposed, hugging her curves down to her swaying hips before he noticed that there were a pair of hands intertwined with hers. he frowned and lifted his gaze to the tall, dark-haired, handsome-looking man (he didn’t see anything wrong with acknowledging that men could look attractive without him being attracted to them) with a definite toned build dancing against her. they weren’t grinding even though they were dancing close; as far as he could tell, it looked like emma was keeping him at a distance, holding the guy’s hands in place, although it could also be wishful thinking on his part.

i don’t like the way he’s looking at you i’m starting to think you want him too am i crazy? have i lost ya even though i know you love me, can’t help it

noah realized he was clenching his jaw and rubbed his temples to try to loosen up the tension and anxiety he was feeling. now was not the time for what emma called his “jealous-and-overprotective boyfriend” mode. most of the time she found it endearing but letting it take over in this situation would result in him making unfair and hurtful accusations and noah already had enough to apologize for from last night. he quickly finished off his drink, took a deep breath, and started walking toward the dancefloor.

emma was definitely the first to notice the leather jacket-clad, brooding brunette with broad shoulders and sculpted arms that came with playing football heading determinedly toward them. she looked up and drew in a sharp breath once she realized it was noah. each stride was filled with a quiet confidence, his gaze never leaving hers, and his eyes smoldering with something she couldn’t quite name - desire, jealousy, anger, maybe all of the above.

‘cause you’re too sexy beautiful and everybody want to taste, that’s why i still get jealous ‘cause you're too sexy beautiful and everybody want to taste, that’s why i still get jealous

she released justin’s hands from her hips and turned to face him. “hey justin, i had a really great time tonight but i’m going to have to head out early. can you make sure danni’s okay?”

justin looked at her quizzically. “does this have something to do with the guy walking toward us that looks like he wants to murder me?”

emma winced and nodded. “yeah, he’s technically still my boyfriend, i think. i know danni told you otherwise.”

he shrugged and smiled. “seriously, don’t worry about it. i had fun. call me if things change with you,” he said, with a wink.

emma watched justin walk away and took a deep breath. she felt noah’s chest against her back, his fingers hovering at her sides, and his warm breath tickling her ear as he asked, “mind if i cut in?” she squeezed her eyes shut as though it would keep the memories from trickling into her mind - the last time she heard him say that was back in high school.

and i’m puffing my chest i’m getting ready to face you can call me obsessed it's not your fault that they hover i mean no disrespect it’s my right to be hellish i still get jealous

emma couldn’t bring herself to turn around and face him. the brief respite she had while dancing with justin was gone but she wanted to try to enjoy herself for a few more minutes before facing reality and having to listen to noah’s excuses. she could feel her resolve weakening as his cologne filled her senses and his breath cooled the heat of her skin from the crowded club.

he knew she was probably debating with herself inwardly and wished she would talk to him or at least look at him. noah felt disappointment creep in and started pulling himself away. emma reached behind and grabbed his arms, sliding her hands down until she looped her fingers with his, pulling him forward. he let out a breath of relief and gripped her hips tightly, pulling her as close to him as he could, falling into rhythm with her hips swaying to the beat. he lowered his head toward the crook of her shoulder as they grinded to the music, leaving loving kisses along her shoulder and neck. emma tilted her head to the side to give him better access to her neck and noah felt the weight in his heart lift a little at the gesture.

‘cause you’re too sexy beautiful and everybody want to taste, that’s why i still get jealous

i wish you didn’t have to post it all i wish you’d save a little bit just for me protective or possessive? girl call it passive or aggressive?

the rest of the song faded into the background as emma released his hands to wrap hers around his neck. emma felt a sudden urge to see him and see what he was feeling in that moment. without losing the beat, she turned in his arms until she was grinding her hips into his, using the arms wrapped around his neck to bring herself closer to him. she forced herself to look up and into his eyes, keeping her face passive, searching for a truth. what truth exactly she thought she could see, she wasn’t sure, but she did see a lot of fear and genuine regret.

noah felt like he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he looked deeply in emma’s eyes. he felt like she could see into his soul and in that moment, he wished she could, so that she could know the unabashed truth of how much she meant to him and how much he regret hurting her. his gaze dropped to her lips; he wanted to kiss her so badly but knew that he needed to tread carefully. it was a delicate, albeit often frustrating, dance to figure out when he needed to let her take the lead and when she wanted him to take initiative. the anxiety he felt in his stomach warned him to follow her lead this time. his fingers dug into her hips as if he was afraid she would slip out and run away from him at any moment.

emma dropped her gaze and leaned in to rest her forehead against his, closing her eyes. she slowed her movements so her hips were swaying gently against his in time to the music, relishing the feel of being in his arms. she closed the rest of the gap between their bodies, resting her chin on his shoulder, breathing in his musky, leathery scent. she had missed him, missed this, moments like these where it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist and it was just them. when the song ended, she stood on her tip toes so she could murmur in noah’s ear, “want to get out of here? we should probably talk.” she noticed him swallow and nod, letting go of her hips so he could grab her hand and lead her out of the club.

* * * * * emma quietly looked out the window in the back of the dryve the entire way back to campus. noah kept stealing glances over to see if he could gauge how she was feeling, but she didn’t turn to look at him once during the entire drive. he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers both out of habit and a need to touch her. she resisted half-heartedly once but he held tight and couldn’t help the small smile on his face when she didn’t resist again. he tapped his finger against his thigh nervously, trying not to feel too hopeful that she would forgive him, but he certainly felt better about the likelihood of it after dancing at the club.

once they were inside her room, emma suddenly felt a pit form in her stomach. she really didn’t want to have this conversation with him but knew she couldn’t avoid it anymore. she motioned to noah to make himself comfortable while she stepped into the bathroom to wipe off her makeup and take off her boots and jewelry. she didn’t want to change into one of his old football shirts that she usually slept in quite yet and give noah the impression that things were back to normal.

while emma was in the bathroom, noah sat himself down on one end of her loveseat and looked around the room. he noticed the necklace on the nightstand as the “N” initial necklace he had gifted her on their first anniversary and his heart sank as he realized she had taken it off. he couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t wearing it, so this definitely wasn’t a good sign. when the bathroom door opened he stood up reflexively. he thought he saw a ghost of a smile on her face as she approached the loveseat and sat down on the opposite end, tucking her legs under her.

he was debating whether or not to speak up first but she beat him to it. “i was not expecting you to drive down here today, much less show up at the club. how did you know where i’d be?”

“when i got here i saw you and your friend leaving the building. i overheard her say you were going to the crimson veil but before i could come up to you, she basically dragged you into the car,” he said, shifting in his seat. “i’m sorry, emma. for everything.”

emma maintained a neutral facial expression and gave him a long look. only her eyes betrayed how fast her mind was processing information and weighing the repercussions of different responses. finally, she said, “what exactly are you sorry for? do you remember everything from last night?”

noah bit his lip and nodded. “yeah, i remember most of it. i felt like we were growing apart over the last few weeks; i know we were both busy but it felt like our relationship was taking a backseat. so when you told me you couldn’t make it up to see me on my birthday… i was more upset than i thought i’d be. i drank way more than i should’ve last night and let my frustrations and doubts fester until it exploded like that. i really am sorry.”

emma sighed and looked away. “i know you’re sorry, and i know you feel really bad. but you’ve done this before and we’ve talked about this. it feels like you’re taking for granted that i’ll forgive you and i’m just so tired of doing this with you. you need to bring up your doubts and concerns with me instead of letting them build up and definitely not drink when you’re upset.”

“i know. i promise i’ll do better,” noah said, scooting closer to her so he could grab both her hands in his. “i love you, baby. can you forgive me?”

emma already knew what her answer was before he even asked. she loved him too much and she knew he was much harder on himself than anyone else and probably had been beating himself up over this all day. “i forgive you. i still feel upset, but i’ll get over it soon. i love you.”

“thank you, baby.” noah was thrilled. he leaned in without hesitation to wrap her up in his arms. emma let herself relax and enjoy the familiarity and warmth of his body against hers. noah shifted so he could pull her into his lap and emma cupped his face in her hands, leaning forward to give him a deep kiss. she pulled back and saw that he was looking up at her with pure adoration, and her breath caught with emotion – she loved this man so damn much.

noah’s eyebrow furrowed with concern. “what’s wrong, baby?” she was always surprised at how well he could read her. emma could feel tears prickling the back of her eyes.

“i just love you so much. and you pushing me away last night really hurt,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

noah raised his chin to give her a soft kiss. “i’m so sorry for hurting you like that. i’m going to make it up to you.” he left a trail of kisses across her jaw and down her neck, stopping to give a teasing kiss on her collarbone. “i’m going to worship you like the goddess you are. you are so goddamn gorgeous, emma. it took every ounce of restraint i had not to carry you out of the club when i saw you dancing,” noah murmured, kissing along her shoulder and down to the top of her breasts.

🔥⚡ 🔥⚡

emma shifted so she was straddling him and ran her hands through his soft hair. “were you jealous?”

noah paused and pulled back to look at her again. his hands roamed up and down her back until they settled on her ass. “you’re damn right i was jealous. i can’t stand the thought of you looking this sexy for another man.” his grip tightened and emma bit her lip to keep from moaning as she started grinding slowly on his lap, eliciting a soft grunt from noah.

“so what are you going to do about it?” she whispered in his ear, grinding up and down slowly, enjoying the feel of how much she was turning him on.

noah growled and stood up, gripping her tightly against him. emma wrapped her legs and arms tightly around him instinctively. “i’m going to make sure i’m the only man for you, starting by making you scream my name.”

he reverently laid her on the bed, kissing and touching her everywhere. emma felt warmth bloom from each spot he kissed and touched, as one hand massaged her breast while the other traced a finger up and down her thigh. she put her hands on his chest and gently pushed him back. “if i’m a goddess, then prove it. strip.”

noah smirked. he could take orders from her all day. he slowly pulled his shirt over his head, slowly revealing his abs before unbuckling his belt. he unzipped his pants and let them fall, stepping out of them and taking a step toward the bed. emma held up a hand and moved forward until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. she gave him the most smoldering look she could muster as she reached under her dress to pull down her panties before slowly spreading her legs apart. “worship me.”

emma watched noah’s eyes darken and he swallowed visibly. she let her eyes wander down his broad shoulders, sculpted abs, and very erect member, enjoying how it twitched when she gave orders. she laid back against the bed, stretching her arms overhead as noah started kissing up her thigh. she reached forward to weave her fingers in his hair and pulled his head gently back to look at her. “no teasing. worship me, now.”

noah surged forward, licking up her folds until he reached her clit. he alternated sucking and swirling his tongue over her sensitive spot, listening for her gasps and moans that would cue his movements. emma felt her hips rise and start moving involuntarily, his breath leaving a tingling feeling everywhere he touched with his tongue. he was incredibly adept at figuring out exactly what would get her off and it was all she could do not to squeeze her thighs around his neck to get closer. he pulled back slightly and emma whimpered at the sudden loss of warmth, although the contrast from the cooler air in the room gave her goosebumps. she felt him stroke her with a finger and resume his tongue ministrations and emma threw her head back, arching her back. she was getting close and noah knew it. he added a second finger and sped up his strokes, making sure his tongue swirled clockwise and then counterclockwise until he could feel her thighs start to shake.

“god, noah, i’m close�� don’t stop, yes!” emma gasped, closing her eyes as he brought her over to the edge and continued to stroke and lick her so she could ride out her orgasm. she felt noah slow down and eventually stop as she tried to catch her breath. he hovered over her and emma opened her eyes just as he leaned down to give her a passionate kiss. she licked her lips as he pulled away, tasting herself.

she wanted more. “take my clothes off. now,” she ordered, watching with amusement as noah silently reached under her until he found the zipper, pulling it down and slowly taking the dress with it.

“this might be my new favorite dress of yours. although i definitely prefer you out of it more,” he murmured, leaving featherlight kisses on each her most sensitive spots as he freed them from the fabric. kisses on the top of her breasts, swirling his tongue over her nipples before continuing to kiss down her stomach and her hips. he let the dress fall to the floor and emma scooted higher on the bed so that he could lean over her more comfortably. he nudged her legs apart again with his knees as he hovered over her, kissing her passionately until emma literally didn’t think she could breathe.

noah pulled back, prompting emma to look up at him. “tell me what you want, baby,” he said breathlessly. emma reached up to trail her fingers down his back until she reached his ass and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a low moan.

“i want all of you, noah,” she murmured back. noah lined himself up and entered her slowly.

once he was buried to the hilt, noah stilled, looking at her to make sure she was okay. she loved the feeling of him being inside her and wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs to hold him tightly against her. she lifted her hips upward and started moving and he followed her lead; they fell into a familiar rhythm, grabbing, touching, and kissing each other everywhere they could.

her back arched and noah held her tightly as she felt pressure start to build in her abdomen again; she tilted her head back and noah kissed her neck and swirled his hips just the way she liked it. all she could manage was a gasp before crying out as the pressure peaked and cascaded over, drowning all her senses with pleasure. noah continued to thrust his hips to help her ride out her orgasm before he followed with a grunt, crying out her name as his seed filled her up. emma was too dazed to respond and wanted to enjoy the bliss before she came down from her high.

“god, that was definitely the best sex we’ve ever had,” emma breathed, placing a hand on her chest to try to calm her beating heart. “thank god i’m on birth control.”

“well, they say make up sex is the best kind,” noah replied, lifting his head from the crook of her shoulder. his breath was ragged and he wasn’t quite ready to leave the warmth of her body yet even though they were both spent.

❄💧❄💧

emma gave him a piercing look. “don’t go getting any ideas. i do not like being mad at you.”

“don’t worry, i hate it when you’re mad at me,” he said without a hint of his usual snark. if emma had any lingering doubts about noah’s feelings for her, which she didn’t, they would have immediately disappeared at the amount of heartwrenching love she could see in his eyes.

“well, i’m not mad at you anymore. lucky for you, since it’s your birthday for another,” she said with a smirk, quickly glancing at the clock before continuing, “four minutes. before i forget to ask, did you like your gift?”

“i loved it and i want to talk to you about it tomorrow, but this right now is the most perfect gift i could ask for,” noah murmured, resting his forehead on hers and trying to get his breathing back under control. emma’s chest was heaving up and down beneath his, her face flushed where it lay framed by his forearms.

emma opened her eyes and smirked up at him, lightly dragging her fingernails up and down his back. “what, sex? you’re really setting a low bar for future presents, casanova. although i will say this fits nicely within my budget,” she teased.

noah let out a low, husky laugh and emma could feel her body immediately flush underneath his. he was so damn sexy. he lifted his head to look her in the eyes before punctuating each point with a kiss. “no, this.” he kissed her forehead. “us.” her nose. “you.” her cheek. “here.” he worked his way down her face and left a few feathery kisses along her jaw. “with me.”

emma’s eyes fluttered closed as noah left a sweet kiss in the hollow of her collarbone and started working his way back up. “knowing i haven’t lost you.” he kissed the skin just beneath her earlobe and whispered, “knowing you still love me.” he resumed kissing a trail from her ear to her lips. “knowing you’ll still let me love you.” he hovered a hair’s breadth away from her lips when he murmured the word love, his eyes full of longing and adoration. she closed the gap between them, bringing her hands up to cup his face.

“i love you, emma. so much,” he said, giving her a lingering kiss before shifting his weight off her to lay on his back. emma curled her body into his and lay her head on his chest. his arm wrapped around her shoulders in an attempt to pull her even closer.

emma reached over to cup his cheek and turn his face toward her. “i love you too, baby. happy birthday.” she tilted her head up and gave him a soft kiss before sighing happily and letting the sound of his steady heartbeat lull her to sleep.

“goodnight, babe,” noah whispered as he pulled the comforter up around her shoulders. he closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep to the sound of her even breathing and the feel of her in his arms, feeling ever grateful for the love he had in his life.

* * * * * mentions: @khoicesbyk; @nyastarlight; @chetachisblog; @robintora; @shows-simp-card; @brycesgirl;

#noah harris x mc #noah harris #my two first loves #mtfl #choices mtfl #my writing #choices #pb choices #playchoices #long fic #ns*w #not twc #mtfl noah #reposting for new blog #choices fanfic #choices fanfics #playchoices fanfiction #my choices fics

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macaronsforchat · 4 years ago

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Ladynoir July Day 7 - Interviews

@ladynoirjuly2020

read on ao3!

‘Prime Queen’s’ interview, but Ladybug and Chat Noir are secretly dating.

Ladybug landed hard, wobbling but seating herself on the couch, fixing her hair and putting on her best smile.

“I thought you decided to stand me up, m'lady,” Chat Noir smiled, and she turned to look at him, her anxiety dying down a little just at the sight of him. It had felt like years since she’d seen him last, but in reality she knew it had only been a few days, if that.

“And let the audience down? Never,” she smiled, gesturing with her hand and turning back to the host sitting across from her. “I'm sorry I'm so late, Nadja.” Mrs. Chamack looked stunned, but then she seemed to be listening for something anxiously, Ladybug’s eyes shifting to her earpiece.

Ladybug herself was pretty nervous about the interview. People wanted to know so much about her and her partner, but there was almost nothing personal they could tell them. She had a sinking feeling that Nadja would pry, but Ladybug wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.

She was also anxious about leaving Manon alone with Alya, but she tried to put that out of her mind.

As Mrs. Chamack introduced herself and the show, the two heroes waved to the camera.

“Thanks so much for accepting this exclusive live interview,” Nadja said enthusiastically, and Ladybug smiled, ready to respond.

“Well, thank you Nadja. We're honored to be here,” she said truthfully, hearing Chat Noir sit up beside her.

“And hello to all my fans,” he said in a silky voice, blowing a kiss. Ladybug didn’t have to look at him to know that he’d winked, and she kept her giggles in, rolling her eyes briefly. She could tell that he’d said that particular line just for her, thinking back to him raving about all his ‘fans’ the other night because he’d known she would laugh.

“I'm sure thousands have tuned in to watch you tonight,” Nadja smiled, and Ladybug smirked, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Don't encourage him Nadja, or the cat won't stop purring all night,” she said, glancing over at Chat and seeing him shoot her a warm look.

“Don't listen to her. Bugaboo's just a spot jealous,” he retorted playfully, gesturing and smiling at Nadja. When he looked back to her, probably expecting her to play along, she felt her stomach clench, her eyes widening at him.

“Hey, I thought we agreed on no more Bugaboo calling,” she said lightly, trying not to alert anyone else that she was feeling panicked. Chat blinked at her, and she tried her best to communicate her thoughts through her eyes.

“Right,” he laughed, dropping his hand back into his lap. “My bad.” Ladybug let out a relieved sigh, both of them turning back to Nadja in hopes of changing the subject. The host was staring down at some sort of watch, and Ladybug worried at her bottom lip.

Ever since they’d started dating, they’d agreed that they needed to keep it a secret. There were a million reasons why, and although she wanted to be able to kiss her boyfriend whenever she wanted, she wanted to keep him safe too.

It was easy to slip into routine and tease each other, but it was important that there and then they did leave any room for suspicion. She’d mentioned it to Chat when she’d seen him last, but that had felt like so long, and she guessed that he was just as happy to see her as she was to see him. A gentle nudge in the right direction was sure to keep everything in check.

Nadja laughed somewhat nervously, trying to smile fully.

“It's obvious you two are very close,” she commented, and Ladybug tensed once more, subconsciously reaching up and rubbing the back of her head. She let out a short laugh, thinking of how to diffuse that statement but not coming up with anything adequate before Nadja continued.

“People know you, but they don't really know you. We see you saving Paris, but we don't know anything else about you,” she spoke, and Ladybug felt the muscles in her shoulders tighten, pressing her closed fists into her thighs. Where was she going with this?

“Well we do have to keep a few secrets, including our identities of course,” she said quickly, trying out a smile and hoping it didn’t look too forced. Nadja glanced back down at her watch, and Ladybug furrowed her eyebrows.

“Absolutely,” Nadja laughed nervously, glancing away. Ladybug could hear something coming from the host’s earpiece. Knots were beginning to form in her stomach. Something didn’t feel right.

“Uh, Ladybug, Chat Noir, um, so a lot of fans think of you as a couple of superheroes. But also, and I quote, unquote, as a couple. Period,” she said, becoming more confident as she spoke. Ladybug jumped in surprise.

“What?” she asked incredulously, hearing Chat Noir make a choking noise beside her. That was exactly what she didn’t want to hear.

“Can you confirm that you're dating, here, tonight?” Nadja grinned, making Ladybug feel like the air in the room was trying to asphyxiate her. Chat Noir had sat up from leaning back against the couch, and although she hadn’t looked at him, she could feel his eyes on her. She fumbled for words for a second.

“I'm very sorry Nadja, but we're superheroes. We're not here to answer such personal questions,” she spoke sternly, feeling heat rising into her cheeks from anger and embarrassment. It felt like the whole studio had been turned upside down in a matter of seconds.

“She’s right,” Chat said next to her, and she turned to him briefly, giving him a small smile. She was thankful that at least he was on her side.

“We're here to assure all Parisians that they're safe and that it's only a matter of time before we defeat Hawkmoth, that's all,” Ladybug reaffirmed, trying to calm herself and not let her emotions show through. Nadja pursed her lips, and more buzzing came from her earpiece. Ladybug scrunched up her nose a little, guessing that what she’d said hadn’t gotten through to their host.

“Fine. How do you explain these photographs then?” Nadja asked, swiping once on her tablet. The screen next to them lit up with a nightmare, a photo of her saving Chat Noir from Dark Cupid’s curse.

Ladybug felt her stomach drop as Chat’s jaw dropped, his ears sticking straight up.

“What? When did that happen?” he asked in disbelief, and Ladybug gasped, realizing that she still hadn’t told him about that.

“I was saving you, not kissing you!” she blurted out, trying to rush a conversation that she should have had with him months ago.

Nadja grinned, swiping on her tablet again and making Ladybug feel like the room was spinning. More and more photos appeared on the screen. Him carrying her when she sprained her ankle, her tackling him out of the way and landing just wrong, them blushing when their hands got a little too close. She was horrified, but she felt a little relief knowing that none of the pictures held any real weight. They were always careful to hide before they kissed each other senseless or pulled each other in for a much-needed hug. If any photos like that got out, it would be all over for them.

But Ladybug was still livid.

Standing up quickly, she drew Nadja’s attention away from the photos. She’d just said something about being in love, but Ladybug’s heart was pounding in her ears much too loudly for her to really hear.

“These are just a bunch of photos taken out of context! We're only doing our job,” she spoke tensely, feeling an intense urge to run away from the whole situation. “We save the city together every day, we're not a couple!” Chat Noir was silent behind her, and she hoped it was because he was still in shock.

“Why won’t you tell the truth?” Nadja asked, standing to meet Ladybug and making her feel even more like she needed to bolt. She couldn’t ignore the desperation in Nadja’s voice either.

“But it is the truth, Nadja,” she said, her nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists. Nadja glanced out behind the cameras, her eyebrows furrowing together.

“C'mon, the audience awaits your answer,” she said almost tauntingly, like it was all some game. Ladybug felt like she could burst with all the anger bubbling up inside of her, holding back a growl.

“This interview is so over,” she said between gritted teeth, turning and locking a hand around Chat’s upper arm. He was hesitant at first, but then he stood up, her hand falling as she realized she wouldn’t have to drag him along.

“Hey! Wait you two, the show is not over yet. Your fans will be disappointed if they don't get an answer,” Nadja said as Ladybug practically stomped off the small stage, Chat trailing after her. She wanted to say a million things to Mrs. Chamack, but she composed herself, taking a deep breath and turning back towards the cameras that had swiveled to watch them leave.

“If they’re our true fans, they’ll understand,” she said, pulling the door open and leaving through it.

“The lady’s right,” she heard Chat say, his voice sounding darker than usual. He caught up to her as she pushed open the window at the end of the hallway, using her yo-yo to swing out and into the city. She raced across the rooftops for a few minutes, hearing Chat following a little ways behind her. Once her boiling blood simmered down a little, she stopped, taking a deep breath as she landed. They’d ended up near the edge of the city on top of an apartment building. There were no lights, just the dim glow of the moon.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chat asked, walking towards her. She sighed, turning to look at him and walking forward, meeting him halfway in a tight hug.

“That was awful,” she spoke against his chest, feeling his head come to rest on top of hers. His arms reached around and held her tight.

“She was willing to do anything to make sure her show would be a success,” he sighed, rubbing the area between her shoulder blades gently. She breathed in his scent for a little longer, and then pulled away.

“Thanks for having my back,” she smiled lightly, seeing his bright eyes soften down at her.

“Always, m’lady,” he purred, and she smiled wider, reaching up and pushing some of the hair from his eyes.

“I missed you, kitty,” she told him, her heart beginning to race for a different reason when he leaned into her touch, not taking his eyes off of her.

“You can read my mind too? Wow, you must be the most amazing girl ever,” he teased, his hands moving to her sides as he tickled her playfully. She laughed, the stress that was emanating from her just minutes ago floating away with the breeze. It was always so easy when she was with him.

Ladybug grabbed his hands, admiring his cheeky smile.

“Think anyone is watching us?” she wondered, glancing around briefly. He blinked at her, tilting his head a little.

“Probably not out here. Why?” he asked, and she smiled, blushing a little.

“Because…” she breathed gently, standing on her tiptoes and placing a quick kiss to his lips. He smiled widely as she pulled away, wrapping his arms around her before she could fall back onto her heels. He leaned down, kissing her once more and making her cheeks light up bright pink.

Their lips moved in sync, and the fact that they’d both missed each other badly was evident. She pulled away first, their breath mingling as they pressed their foreheads together. She blinked at him, seeing a strange look on his face.

“Hey, speaking of kisses…” he said, searching her eyes for a moment before she realized what he was asking about and let out a giggle. He waited for her to stop laughing, but she just leaned against his shoulder, her laughter continuing in lieu of an explanation.

“I’m genuinely confused!” he whined, and she laughed harder, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. He gave her a cute pout, not helping her to stop laughing.

Even though Ladybug would look back on the interview with a frown, the way he’d held her afterwards was only one example of how he would always be on her team.

~~~~~

oooooh i liked writing this one! i love doing what if’s and retellings! let me know what you all thought :D

thank you so much for your support!!

#ladynoirjuly2020 #ladynoirjuly #ladynoir july #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #prime queen #what if #secret dating #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #my writing #interviews

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mst3kproject · 4 years ago

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The River of the Giant Alligator

A bunch of Italians pretending they’re not Italian in a movie about a guy who chose the wrong place to build a hotel… it’s like Avalanche by way of Devil Fish, with an alligator. And racism. You can’t have a 70’s Italian jungle movie without the racism, and this one layers it on real thick. I think The River of the Giant Alligator has its MST3K bases covered.

Rich Asshole Joshua has opened Paradise House, a resort in the middle of the ‘virgin jungle’. He proudly tells visitors that not only has he left the surrounding ecosystem undamaged, but he’s helping the local people by giving them jobs and improving their standard of living. Naturally it’s not as simple as that. Trouble begins when Sheena, the model they brought for their advertising photographs (just for a dash of Killer Fish), vanishes overnight. Photographer Daniel and hotel manager Ally go to the locals looking for her, and are told that the River God has awakened and intends to drive the white people away by assuming the form of a giant crocodile and eating them all. Considering how mind-bogglingly stupid the tourists in this movie are, that should take all of twenty minutes.

The locals, who call themselves the Kuma, have a name for their River God but it’s pronounced five different ways and I won’t guess how to spell it. Because of the deep breathing sounds that presage its first appearance, I shall call the creature Darth Gator.

Let’s get the basics out of the way first. The whole movie is dubbed and the voice actors are bad. The Darth Gator prop is completely immobile but they mostly keep it in the dark or in really tight shots so we don’t notice… it’s only the occasional ill-advised wide shot where it’s obviously fake enough to be funny. There’s a spiky fence that exists mostly so that people can get impaled on it and a cloying little kid for no reason whatsoever. The ‘wildlife’ is a stock footage smorgasbord that includes orangutans and hippos on the same river. The worst effect in the film is a terrible miniature shot of the hotel on fire, which would have looked just fine if the people involved hadn’t forgotten that flames don’t scale.

So all that sucks, but is fairly harmless. Now let’s talk about the racism.

We’ll start with the movie’s treatment of its two ‘love stories’, and I use the floating commas because neither of them quite qualifies. Daniel and Ally are the main ‘couple’ of the movie. The camera lingers on each of them to show that he thinks she’s beautiful and she thinks he’s rugged, and they spend the whole movie hanging out on balconies and boats together and discussing whether the resort is good or bad for the local people… but they never get so much as a kiss. This is kind of nice, actually, because there’s very little time to stop and make out when you’re being chased by a large carnivorous reptile. It does, however, make for a hell of a contrast between them and the other ‘couple’ we see.

This is the model, Sheena, and her Kuma boyfriend. I am unclear on where this movie is set (the closest we get to a clue is Ally referring to the area as ‘the Orient’, which could honestly mean anything) but it’s perfectly clear that the reason they hired a black woman for their publicity photos is to make the place look ‘exotic’. There’s a weird moment when Joshua attempts to flirt with Sheena by telling her, “it occurs to me that Eve herself may have been black”, which… yes, that is how human evolution worked, what about it? All that aside, at the end of the day, Sheena runs off for a romantic evening with one of the tribesmen. We never see her talk to this guy or have any clue what made her pick him over any of the others. They just go fuck on a beach and then get eaten by an alligator.

So… we have blonde, blue-eyed white people having a perfectly chaste, wait-for-marriage love affair in which they actually get to know each other… and black people who run off with a stranger and screw out in the open like animals. Holy shit. I want to say I hope this wasn’t something the film-makers actively thought about, but it might be worse if they didn’t. Naturally, this is also a version of the ‘people who have premarital sex must die’ trope from slasher movies, and the movie makes doubly sure we know this is Bad Behaviour by having Ally remark that the Kuma are forbidden from visiting ‘the Island of Love’ on the full moon.

The deaths of Sheena and Nameless Kuma Guy also begin a pattern that lasts almost the entire movie. Even though we’re told, repeatedly, that Darth Gator wants to drive the white people out of his jungle, for the vast majority of the running time it’s the brown people who are getting chomped. We’re told that twelve white missionaries came here years ago and Darth Gator ate all but one of them, who then became a crazy jungle man (not gonna lie, Father Jonathan was my favourite character and I wish we’d seen more of him). We see Sheena, her boyfriend, and the boyfriend’s brother get eaten alive. Furthermore, most of the white deaths in the movie are at the hands of the Kuma, who run in and kill the tourists with spears and fire arrows in the belief that they’re doing their god’s bidding, and much of this happens offscreen. Those hit by the arrows quickly fall into the water and vanish from sight. The only time the camera lingers on a white person dying is Joshua, who I guess they think deserved it. The impression one gets is that white death is a horror better implied than shown, while brown death is a spectacle. Again… holy shit.

The River of the Giant Alligator can’t seem to decide what we’re supposed to think about the Kuma people. Early in the film they’re portrayed as victims. These foreigners have invaded their land and built this giant hotel, and claimed to be helping them by giving them ‘work’. Ally notes that they’ll be able to live longer, healthier lives, but Daniel wonders if it’s worth it when they’ve basically become Joshua’s slaves. The movie leaves this question hanging there without exploring it any further. When Daniel and Ally come looking for information about the alligator attacks, the Kuma direct them to Father Jonathan, knowing they’re more likely to believe a white man, even one who’s obviously not quite all there. The movie really wants to be about the exploitation of indigenous peoples, treated as decorations and curiosities by white tourists.

The problem is, it wants to eat that cake, too. By the end of the story, the Kuma have devolved into stock savages. They attack the hotel and kill everybody, and kidnap Ally so they can tie her to a horizontal King Kong contraption as a sacrifice. The ending just makes it all the more confusing, as they turn up to discover that their god has been blown to bloody chunks after biting into a van full of explosives, and they cheer and they just leave. Is it really that easy to kill a god? Won’t a dead god demand vengeance anyway? Does this mean they actually like the white people after all, and were only angry because Darth Gator was eating them?

The ending also muddles the movie’s other point, about the nature of eco-tourism. One of the selling points of Paradise House is that it’s in the middle of virgin jungle. Joshua brags about how he’s left the surrounding ecosystem untouched – but then we cut straight to trees being cleared using dynamite, and later we see live piglets being thrown into the river to keep the crocodiles hanging around so people can gawk at them. You can’t build a hotel in the middle of a place and then call it ‘virgin jungle’. You’re the one who violated it!

The script is a little unclear on whether Darth Gator is a natural or supernatural threat. Ally and Daniel insist that it’s no mere alligator (I don’t think this movie knows the difference between crocodiles and alligators any better than I do) and Father Jonathan seems to believe it’s the Devil Himself, but it certainly dies like a flesh-and-blood creature. Whatever its nature, it’s clear enough that Darth Gator represents the jungle striking back at these intruders to drive them out. The Kuma literally say as much. So what are we to take from the fact that it dies at the end? Have we won the right to destroy the forest by killing its guardian? I don’t believe the people who make these movies think this stuff through.

I can tell that we’re supposed to hate the tourists, and we do, although not always for the reasons the movie wants us to. Minnow, the red-haired little girl who ‘only likes to play with boys’, tries so hard to be Adorable that you want to punt her across the room. Her mother leaves her to wander around the hotel alone, because Mummy’s got a smarmy mustached boyfriend to bang (even this relationship gets more attention than Sheena and Unnamed Kuma Guy, by the way… we are told that Mummy and Mustache have met before, and are here mostly to see each other rather than the jungle). Other notable annoyances include a lady who seems perfectly sane until she starts talking about the aliens, and a guy who loves to complain about Youth These Days and will seize any opportunity to do so.

I kinda wanna gripe about these obnoxious characters, but I don’t feel like I can. You may recall that I spent a month stuck on a cruise ship earlier this year. I can tell you definitively that these people do exist, and I hate them even more in real life.

Man, this could have been a fun monster movie. I’ve seen movies about man-eating crocodiles (or alligators… does it honestly matter that much?) that I really enjoyed. Primeval wasn’t even that bad – it was about how humans are more monstrous than anything nature can produce. Lake Placid had that immortal bit where Betty White says if I had a dick, this is where I’d tell you to suck it. The River of the Great Alligator is just boring bullshit and things that seem kinda racist on the surface but then you think about them a little longer and realize they’re incredibly racist. I went into this one hoping to like it, but it absolutely pissed on the last shreds of my optimism... like a lot of other things in 2020.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the river of the great alligator #the great alligator #fuck this movie #fuck it so much #70s

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whumpywhumper · 4 years ago

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New York--Part 2

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @rosesareviolentlyread @oceanthesarcasamfox @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @voidwhump @captivity-whump @walkingchemicalfire

As always, @0idril0 was indispensable to this series and the fact she’s allowed me to use Clint makes me so grateful, go check out her Nico Series

Please see the: Masterpost and New York--Part 1

TW: Mentions of possible character death. This is some angsty, schmoopy, worldbuilding.

V***V

Clint growled, head spiraling after looking at the evidentiary photographs for hours. An itch had started under his skin about an hour ago, making him antsy and grumpy.

He flicked the photograph of one of the “cattle cells”, one of the female Elder’s, onto the table with a disgusted snarl. “What the fuck have you pulled me into, Holland?”

The older man groaned, throwing a photo onto the table himself before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was hoping that you could tell me that, Clint. We know it’s a nest, but only Christ knows what else they’re doing. How big they actually are. They’re organized, they’re doing something else.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Caught wind of them about six months ago, about the time I heard you were in Chicago, but we didn’t get a solid lead until recently.” Their eyes met across the table, and Clint saw the fountain of wisdom in them that had made him trust him for years. “I’ve got a gut feeling, it’s why I wanted you here.”

He tugged at a fist full of hair, trying to stretch out his back. The conference room was quiet other than the footsteps of the nurses back and forth to their station. Kincaid had fallen asleep on the table, one hand still holding a pen as he’d taken copious notes in everything in the photos.

Ben was laying on the ground, feet propped up in his chair, a sheaf of papers on his chest. His glasses were askew and an occasional grunting snore filling the air. Delta, Justin, and Daniel had all left a few hours previous; Delta parting with one last glare that had made the remaining cops snicker.

He shook his head, looking at all of the photos they’d gone through. “I need more info,” he sighed, “hands on info. This isn’t working for me. I want to talk to some of the people inside. Anyone stand out as being someone who would talk?“

“Not right off the bat, no. Definitely not the vamps themselves. The humans on the inside, the ‘neolates’ as they call them, are pretty dedicated, and quite a few scattered to the wind when we raided. Most of the vics were out of the loop, either drugged or magicked to hell.”

“Most?”

“There were a few that were kept pretty strong so that the fledglings and juveniles could practice their-“ he wiggled his fingers, “-mind stuff.”

Clint smirked, “they call it glamour.”

“Whatever-” Holland waved away the correction, “-there were others that were kept for the vamps to have fun with. Point is, there’s a few that could tell us what was going on, and there’s a few that we’re still waiting on to get back in their right mind or waking up. If they’re going to wake up.” He sighed, exhausted. “I’m not sure any of them will be of any help, really.”

“How many do you have here?”

“All of the vics were originally stationed here, but the majority have been cleared to go home, or to some of the shelters and long term care facilities for rehab. We just don’t have the resources to keep them.” He started counting on his fingers, looking pensive. “I have the statements that we got from them before we released them—there was a veritable shitstorm of uniforms and detectives up here interviewing—and I have contact information for all of them if you want to interview ‘em.” He shook his head, pursing his lips. “I don’t think that that would be the best use of your time, there’s too many of them, and they don’t know much.”

Holland stretched, pulling a file toward himself and looking at a list. “I think there’s about thirty that are here in their longer stay wards, a few of those are being weaned off of some heavy narcotics so their testimony isn’t as reliable as I want right now, and we have one under ICU care, but he’s being kept on the same floor for ease of access and security—it’s actually this floor. He’s why Blue Nightmare out there is being such a bitch, she wants him up on the other floor.” Rolling his eyes, he smirked, a fond edge to his lips. “I’ve tried to tell her that it’s for his protection, we have units stashed all over, but she’s still worried. It also irritates her to no end that we’ve messed up her nurses rotations and shifts, but Olivia is a good egg. One of the best.” He tossed the file to Clint, but it was a gibberish list of names, initials, and medical stats. “There’s a couple of bodies down in the morgue here, and a few at the coroner’s office, if you want to take a look at them. There was an incinerator on site, we think that’s where the majority of their bodies went.”

Sighing, Clint closed the file and rubbed at his eyes. “Were there any nest members that were injured in the raid?”

“A few, I’ve already interviewed them, they’re not going to give much I don’t think. They were their front line. You might have more luck—especially if I’m not there.” Clint smiled to himself, Holland wasn’t ever one to stand on police procedure when it came to sups, but he was never unfair about it. “Uhh, there’s one that might be more helpful, I didn’t even think about him since he’s practically on death’s door anyway.” He pulled another file out of a stack, almost toppling it onto Kincaid. “His name is Joseph, he was apparently getting some kind of cure for working for the vamps, but now the docs say he’s got two weeks, at best. Pancreatic cancer.”

Clint hummed as he took the proffered file, flipping it open to look at the picture. A young African-American man looked up at him from a mug shot, dark eyes pained and hollow. He couldn’t have been more than twenty three, already dying, faced with an impossible decision. Fuck. How many other nest mates were in the same position?

“You’ve got a lot of pictures here of the nesting areas and containment cells. Where was the nest located?”

“It’s a renovated factory at the edge of the city, they’d expanded it and turned it into a compound. Rumor had it that there was a small clinic that was run out of it for supernaturals of all types. We’re not sure how their greater operation was evading scrutiny, but this nest runs deep. I think it’s one of their main strongholds though, and Justin can take you tomorrow.”

Sighing, Clint looked back over the mounds of photographs. “Holland. . . This is a big operation, it’s gonna to take a lot of time.” He shook his head, biting at his lip. “I wanna help, and I can give you a few days, but I have something I’m already in the middle of investigating. It’s important.”

“I heard through the grape vine, a friend of yours went missing in Massachusetts a few months back?” Holland interlaced his fingers, deliberately putting his elbows on the table and looking at him with a compassion that Clint wanted to reject. He knew what he thought, and he wasn’t ready to accept it. “You still haven’t found him?”

He grunted a negative, avoiding the other man’s eyes. “Leads went cold, was actually hoping some of my connections here might have heard something.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“Five months.”

“Clint,” Holland paused, a gusty sigh through his nose before his hand rasped against his gray stubble, “Massachusetts is four hours from here, and they’re both densely populated. There’s little likelihood that anyone would have heard something, or remember something from five months ago, no matter how small the supernatural community is.” They both paused, a sinking, palpable tension filling the room. “Clint, son, look at me,” he said softly.

His eyes burned, and he knew when he met Holland’s steadfast gaze that they were red with unshed tears. “I don’t wanna hear it, Holland,” he whispered, a hot coal in his throat.

The other man nodded at him, a small frown on his face as he climbed to his feet stiffly, closing the distance between them. Clint didn’t move from his seated position, looking up at his friend as he put a strong hand on his shoulder. Gripping him tightly.

Holland held his gaze, words unstoppable. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, son, but it’s not gonna change anything to sugar coat it. To avoid the reality. You’ve been doing this for long enough, you know the statistics.” He squeezed Clint’s shoulder, bracing him. “You know what I’m going to say, and I don’t have to spell it out for you. I’m not going to bullshit you like I would some civvy; you wouldn’t appreciate it, and I’ve never been very good at it.”

He sighed heavily, giving Clint time to scramble madly for control of himself. “You need to accept that your friend is probably gone, Clint,” he said softly, “and probably has been for a while.”

Clint shuddered, biting his tongue as his wolf howled inside of him, wanting to join in with that disconsolate sound. A few rogue tears spilled onto his cheeks. “Fuck,” he hissed between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he bowed his head. He knew that. He knew it, he just didn’t want to accept it.

Holland’s thick hand rubbed at his back, short rough strokes, before he continued. “The supernatural community is dangerous, Clint, and you all live on the fringe of death every day—you know that even better than I do. It’s why I need your help.”

He gestured to Ben and Kincaid, encompassing the make shift command station, the ambiguous motion somehow including their futility. “As much as this is our livelihood, we’re still just laymen when it comes to the supernatural community, to the intricacies of how magic works and how you operate.” He sighed, showing every inch of his sympathy in the gaze he locked onto Clint.

“Please, son, help me stop this from happening to other people, while we still can.”

Swallowing thickly, Clint coughed on a sob, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I hate when you’re right,” he choked out, sniffling.

“I hate when I’m right too,” Holland answered sadly, leaving is hand on Clint’s shoulder in support.

It took several long minutes for Clint to get ahold of himself, and he felt exhausted as he raised his head. The heels of his hands dug into this eyes, trying to clear away the tears. Holland backed off, returning to his chair at the head of the table.

He sighed, looking around at the other officers, trying to push his hair back. “I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted, and these two are definitely exhausted. When was the last time they slept in a bed?”

Holland huffed, exasperated. “I couldn’t get them to leave after the raid for longer than it took to shower and grab more clothes. That was about 72 hours ago, I don’t know that they’ve left this room unless they told each other to shower and eat. Kincaid is taking this personally, and Ben is always along for the ride.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, staring at him sideways. “They together?”

“Going on eight years, partners before that, and don’t you look at me like that either,” he said, pointing a finger at him. “They’re the best damn tactical team I’ve come across, I’d be downright stupid to try and split them up.

Raising his hands in surrender, Clint let the subject go. Supernatural squads didn’t always follow the book, but they couldn’t if they wanted results. “Do the nurses have a rack room they’d consider letting us use?”

“Yeah, the Chief of the hospital already pulled some of the bunks they have for their on call people into an empty room. It’s cramped, but it’ll do. Help me get ‘em up.”

Grinning, Clint kicked the chair out from under Ben’s feet and laughed at his snorted yelp as the other man shot up, sheets of paper falling to the floor.

Holland chuckled, shaking Kincaid awake, “c’mon, Sleeping Beauty, we’ll pick this up after you get a few hours of shut eye.” Kincaid tried to argue, a mumbled complaint that was incomprehensible as he raised his head, bleary eyes blinking owlishly. “Ah-ah! I’ll listen to your objections when you can enunciate.”

Helping Ben to his feet, his glasses still askew, they followed Holland. The large hospital afforded them a lot of distance between the conference room and the patient rooms, but Holland led them back to toward the nurses station, the empty room apparently near the patients.

The nurse from before, Olivia, was glaring at a computer like it had personally offended her mother. She looked up at them as they passed, and Clint could smell the worry and stress on her, tell-tale lines marring her makeup. He nodded at her, and saw her face soften a fraction as she looked over Ben and Kincaid. “Get some actual sleep, all of you,” she ordered, “I don’t want to be your nurse; you don’t want me to be your nurse.” The threat was clear, and they all saluted her as they made their way into their designated room.

One of the doors to a patient’s room opened, and Clint sneezed, making sure to cover his mouth and nose as the scent of sickness, stress, and hurt invaded his nostrils. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, “I hate hospitals.”

Kincaid shrugged out of the police issued hoodie he was wearing, tossing it at his head. “Here, Copper, take a whiff of that.”

Clint rolled his eyes at the movie reference. “I’m getting real tired of the bloodhound jokes,” he grumbled, throwing the hoodie over his shoulder. His eyes widened though as the scent of rosemary and magic hit his overstimulated nostrils. Shoving the hoodie against his nose, he took a deep breath and snapped his head over to raise his eyebrows at Kincaid. “Well, that woulda been nice to know!” Clint growled, a little of his shock bleeding over into the words. It wasn’t often a witch took him by surprise.

Said witch laughed as he turned into a door way after Holland and Ben, who were also chuckling, climbing onto the closest top bunk. “I’m surprised you didn’t get a bead on me earlier, I heard werewolves have super sniffers.” He shrugged sheepishly, “I’m really not strong enough to do anything with the magic, never delved into it, but maybe it’ll help with the hospital smell.” He smiled at his partner from his height as the slightly older man took his glasses off and set them carefully on a counter. “C’mon, slow poke.”

“You’re an over grown child,” Ben grumped, pointing at him in mock outrage.

“The problem with hospitals,” Clint explained, “is that I can’t smell a whole lot over everything that’s going on. Too many hormones, bodily fluids, and cleaning supplies.” Clint climbed onto the empty bottom bunk, opposite to Holland as the Captain let them bicker, the older man sitting on the already rumpled bunk below Kincaid and kicking off his shoes.

Ben shut off the light before he crawled up next to Kincaid. “Shut up, you two,” he grumbled, thwumping down, pulling the blanket over Kincaid’s face.

Holland kicked the bottom of their bunk as the furniture gave a slightly ominous creak. “I swear to god, if you two fall on me, you’re both fired.”

“Sir, yes sir!” They both replied.

Shaking his head, Clint made himself comfortable under the thin hospital issue sheets, putting Kincaid’s hoodie over the pillow. He felt slightly silly, using the other man’s clothes basically as a gas mask, but anything was better than the thick aroma of bleach on the pillow case.

Even with the lights off, the busy streetlight peeked through the blinds, illuminating the two men on the top bunk. He sighed, wanting Nico, to hold him close and make sure his Mate was safe. Even if the bond wasn’t formed yet, he wanted him. He wanted to make sure all of his pack was safe, the raw wound that Holland had dealt making an itch to check on Illyn, the other folks down in Louisiana. Gotta ask to borrow a phone tomorrow.

Sniffing, he held the pillow close, analyzing the undertow of scents. Rosemary. Lime. Garlic. Gunpowder. The tickling scent of magic mixed with them, a memory of a memory wafting across his brain. He could swear that he smelled Markus, not Kincaid, but he sighed, pushing the thought away.

His talk with Holland was too close, that’s all. Still, he held on to the scent as he fell asleep, a vague comfort against the ache.

#Markus/Lucien Series #Mentions of Character Death #Whump series #Modern magic #werewolf oc #mystery #story building

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unholyhelbig · 4 years ago

Text

Red | #HW204

Prompt: Possession

Summary: Aubrey and Beca take their youngest daughter to a child Psychologist when weird things start happening around their new house.

Read on Ao3 Here!

Aubrey Posen had expected a lot more from the tiny office that rested on the third floor of a business park. The door had a frosted glass pane with fancy gold writing and dark stained wood, but the little waiting room that rested right behind it was cold and dark. It made her skin itch. This place was meant for children- wasn’t it?

The only indication that anyone younger than fifty-four attended sessions here was a small box sandwiched between two leather upholstered chairs. It was a forest green and contained a couple of picture books and markers that had long ago run out of ink. Aubrey instinctively pulled her daughter flush against her and passed her a phone to keep her occupied while Beca checked them in.

Her wife was just as nervous as she was, though, she hid it better. Beca had always been the positive one in the relationship. Though they both saw the world through the same colored glass, Beca admired while Aubrey shattered. She had a way with her words and made the unpleasant receptionist crack a charming smile.

Beca said a few more things that she couldn’t hear over the low hum of the game that Marley had stumbled upon. It was something with bright colors to captivate her, other than the slate grey walls and dying plant in the corner. It needed to be watered.

Beca finally flopped down into the chair next to them. She smiled nervously at their daughter, who had the same stormy blue eyes. She smelled of melted snow and vanilla lip balm. She had grabbed one of the informational pamphlets from the counter; Your child and their emotions.

What it really boiled down to was ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions that ruled out if Marley was a sociopath. Aubrey didn’t want to look at it and Beca shoved it into the pocket of her coat, blanching because she had realized her mistake. Their daughter had switched to another app on Aubrey’s phone.

“What are you coloring, Monkey?” Beca asked, trying to keep things light.

“A tree,”

“That’s neat. Can I see it?”

Marley nodded with a wide grin and passed the phone over to her mother. Beca zoomed out on the picture; it was a nice scene that reminded them fondly of the home they had moved into a few months ago. While it was still summer, Beca had put up a tire swing much to Aubrey’s safety objections.

The photo had a white picket fence and a large oak like the one in their front yard. It didn’t have a tire swing, but two long sections of rope connecting a plank of wood to one of the limbs of the tree. Beca let out a silent sigh of relief. It looked fairly normal. She praised Marley and handed the phone back.

Aubrey shrugged apprehensively at her and gave a weak smile. Maybe things would be alright. Though, both of them were thinking, as they breathed in stale office air, that they weren’t going to be. They had been to a couple of specialists that lead them here. Doctor Beale was one of the top-rated child Psychologists in the area.

“The Posen’s?” They had all glanced up at once, Marley quickly going back to her coloring while both parents stood from the seats. The leather made too much noise and Beca glanced back at it nervously before her cheeks blanched.

A woman with a mane of copper hair stood in the vacant hallway. She was dressed casually in a navy blue sweater and a pair of black slacks. She had a kind face and striking ocean eyes. Aubrey instantly relaxed in her presence and forgot about the state of the office in an instant.

“I’m Beca,” her wife extended a hand first “This is my wife Aubrey, but you probably already knew that.”

Chloe chuckled sweetly “Yes, I did. And this must be Marley?”

Their daughter was shy. She had abandoned the task on her phone and clung to Beca’s pant leg instead. She blinked up at the pretty stranger and tucked her face into the fabric. Doctor Beale didn’t’ seem deterred by this at all.

“If you guys would like to follow me, we can get started.” Chloe didn’t’ wait for an answer. Instead, she turned and they began to walk down a hallway that was much like the main lobby- devoid of color. Beca had scooped Marley up, she pressed her cold nose against the nave of her neck. “I’m assuming you haven’t done this before?”

“No, never,” Aubrey answered.

They passed a few doors that were the same solid oak as the one upfront. They had been to a lot of pediatricians, and neurologists. Neither of them could find anything wrong physically. They had had a long conversation about mental health before they were pushed in this direction.

All four of them stopped in front of another similar door. This one, Doctor Beale, had keys to. She turned the lock and pushed it open. The lack of color in the waiting room had been culminated and thrown in here; it was a large room with every type of toy and art supply imaginable.

The walls were a friendly yellow and little foam puzzle pieces made the flooring under their feet malleable. Beca’s mouth was propped open almost as wide as Marley’s and Aubrey couldn’t help but smile easily at that. There was a large mirror propped up on the side of the wall and posters of animals and mountains around the space that hadn’t been taken up.

“She can play for a while if she wants, we still have a few things to discuss before we start.”

Marley still looked apprehensive, so Beca worked her usual magic. She had a soft, yet commanding voice. “Marls, do you want to play for a couple of minutes?” Their daughter whimpered and dug her nose further into her neck “Oh, come on now, look at all those cars. Don’t you want to check them out?”

It took a couple more seconds, but she eventually let Beca set her down before moving over to the large rug in the corner that had a grid of maps stitched into its fabric. She quickly grasped at a white matchbox car and started driving it around the sharp corners. Chloe leads them closer to the door without exiting into the hallway.

“Which one of you is Marley more comfortable with?” Chloe asked in a hushed tone.

Beca made her stance rigid while Aubrey lifted her chin towards her wife. “She’s the fun mom.”

“Right,” Chloe smiled despite herself “Beca, would you be alright with staying here with Marley while Aubrey and I watch from the other room?”

“Sure?” She shrugged apprehensively “You just want us to play?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to do. The biggest thing we can do here is observe her behavior. From what I’ve seen so far she’s a normal, highly functioning five-year-old. From what your file describes, that tends to change drastically in certain situations. Am I correct?”

Aubrey had suddenly gotten cold in the small little room. Yes, Chloe Beale was right more than she would like to admit. Their daughter was a sweet and loving girl. She was outgoing and confident, but every aspect of that could flip on a dime.

“We thought it was because of the move,” Beca sounded out, looking over at Marley. She had grabbed another car from the shelf and slammed them both together, making a crashing sound “But she’s gotten violent.”

“She hears voices,” Aubrey said.

“Voices?”

“We chalked it up to an overactive imagination at first. Both of us were so tired from fixing the place up that we didn’t’ see the warning signs, I guess. She didn’t like her room. She said that was a tall man with a funny hat that would bother her at night.”

Chloe nodded and shoved her hands into her pockets as she had suddenly gotten cold as well. “Has this stopped?”

“Eventually she didn’t talk about it anymore.” Beca explained “We thought we were doing the right thing by making her stay in there instead of sleeping in bed with us. But that’s when the weird behavior started.”

“What kind of weird behavior is she exhibiting?”

Aubrey looked over at the young girl as she played with a few more cars. She had created a traffic jam and spoke silently under her breath. They couldn’t hear what words she had been forming and Aubrey figured that that was a good thing.

“She gets this vacant look in her eyes sometimes… that’s all it was at first, and we thought she was just getting distracted. She started standing at the foot of our bed and just staring, for hours.”

Chloe quirked a brow “You set up camera’s?”

“We had no choice. Things were vanishing around the house, expensive things like power tools and then little things like keys. We had just moved in so we figured we might have an intruder or something. But it was Marley every single time. That’s why we decided to get her checked.”

The psychologist thought for what seemed like a while, they listened to the squeaking of the car wheels and Beca started to trace her eyes along the posters. She felt like she was in trouble. Instead, she was seeking help.

“Right. Aubrey, if you would come with me.” The woman nodded and glanced at her daughter for a sparing moment “Beca you just have to keep Marley playing. If you can, direct her to the little table in the corner.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” She said nervously.

“Good. Is there any way you can get her to talk about her room?”

This would be a little more difficult, but she nodded nevertheless. Beca knelt down next to Marley and pointed to the nearest car with question in her eyes. Aubrey watched for a few more moments before Chloe touched her shoulder gently and navigated her back into the depressing hallway.

They walked a couple more feet to the next door. This one, Chloe didn’t’ need a key to; it was smaller and darker than the lobby and the colder than the room they had just exited. There were two chairs facing a glass window and a little table that attempted to be spruced up with bottled water and a plant that was in even worse condition than the one she had seen before.

Aubrey wandered up to the window and stared through the glass. It was in the same position as the mirror had been. She could see her wife and daughter talking quietly by the rug that they had left them at. The psychologist took a seat in one of the chairs and waited for Aubrey to do the same.

“This doesn’t feel a bit… invasive to you?” Aubrey sat down, the wood was frigid.

“I’m a psychologist, Mrs. Posen, it’s my job to be invasive. We need to figure out what’s spurring your daughter's recent behavior.”

Aubrey supposed that’s why they had paid for the hour. She was hypocritical, worrying about sitting behind two way glass when they hid a camera between the stuffed animals on Marley’s dresser. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched carefully. Beca had somehow coaxed their daughter to the small table closest to the wall.

She went to the wall and grabbed a handful of markers and paper before struggling to sit in one of the little chairs. Her knees were nearly up to her ears, and in any other situation, Aubrey would have laughed.

Beca uncapped a brown marker first. She started to sketch the outline of a tree, stretching it to the top of the paper. It was nearly identical to the photo that Marley had been coloring earlier. She began to use that classic charm of hers.

“This looks kind of like the tree out front, huh?”

Marley was focused on dragging a navy marker against the page “Mm-hm,”

“Do you like the new house, Marls?”

Their daughter stopped the tip of the marker, and a large circle of ink started to spill from the hard-pressed gesture. She frowned and drew in a shallow breath. Beca had stopped coloring too. She watched with apprehension like they were sitting at the kitchen table once more- a steak knife within reach for them both.

“Was that fear?” Aubrey asked, sinking further into her seat. Her mouth was dry and it would have been easy to reach to her left for one of those water bottles, but she didn’t.

“No, it was anger. Does she get that look often?”

“Everyday.”

Beca slowly brought her eyes back down to the paper and started to color in the sun at the corner of the page. She was pressing too hard, hard enough to almost rip the paper. It was like she could taste the charged energy in the room.

“The house is nice. I like my room. I didn’t, but I do now.”

Marley never took her eyes away from the woman. She was speaking through a clenched jaw. Aubrey didn’t even know that a child could do that, that they had enough stress to show it like this. She understood nightmares and normal phobia’s, but this felt too… adult.

Chloe was writing something down on her notepad, but she leaned forward in her seat as if they were watching a movie. Aubrey could read the sudden fear that rolled in waves off of Beca. This wasn’t her normal energy, and Marley smiled wickedly at this.

“Yeah? Do you… still see that man?”

Beca had pushed it as far as she could. She had abandoned her picture altogether and focused her entire attention on their daughter. These past few months had been filled with exhaustion and odd fear, and prying sharp objects from little fingers.

One of them had slept in the rocking chair by the door each night. It was uncomfortable and made them stiff, but they had a keen eye on the door to their bedroom. That same steak knife that was nearly grasped from the table earlier had been close to Aubrey’s throat one night. She woke to the feeling of cold metal and then a thin line of warm blood.

They hadn’t told Chloe that. It wouldn’t be in the file that she had gotten of them. Everything else had been disclosed but that one night, the night that scared them the most would remain right where it was forever.

Marley nodded slowly, “He’s my friend. I like his hat.”

“What does the hat look like?” Marley squints her eyes, and Beca tried again “Can you show me?”

Marley looked down at the art supplies in front of her. It was a random pile of markers and a few colored pencils. She grabbed a clean sheet of paper and searched over her options with new vigor. She had been given a task and Beca was watching her with keen eyes.

“No, I can’t do it.” She whispered with frustration.

“Why not, sweetie?”

Marley slammed her little hand down on the table and the markers and pencils and little cup that held them jumped with the extra force. Beca tensed up her shoulders but figured quickly that this was better than something being thrown across the room.

“There’s no red.” She growled out, gripping the cheap plastic table “I can’t draw my friend if there’s no red. It’s his favorite color, he’s always wearing it.”

“I can get you a red, Marley,”

“No. It’s too late.” Their daughter glanced up from the white paper, her eyes filled with that same primal anger as the night with the knife. Marley turned her eyes towards the mirror and Aubrey felt herself freeze. Chloe gripped the note pad until little dents marked the lines neatly.

Marley moved her small little finger against the length of her neck, somehow staring directly at Aubrey with a vacant expression and a truly vile expression. “He has red here. He has red everywhere.”

#HW204 #PPHW #Pitch Perfect Horror Week #beca mitchell #aubrey posen #Mitchsen #mitchsen fanfiction #Chloe Beale #Day 4: Possession

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