#So drop bag and run is a strategy I am considering | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simmerandwrite · 4 years ago

Text

strangers - steve rogers x reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment and non-consensual touching, swearing.

Word count: 4870

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: When your subway ride home takes a turn for the worst, you hope a stranger in a coffee shop will help you out.

Notes: If you saw a snippet of this the other day, here’s the full thing! I wanted to tackle some ‘in need of saving’ tropes and this just sort of happened. I’ve never posted straight up on Tumblr before but I’m a bit lacking in my experience with reader fics, so I figured this was a good place to share it. no beta, any mistakes are my own! If you like it, let me know - thanks for reading!

—

Steve Rogers liked his days off. Not that he had a set schedule week to week anyway but when things aligned correctly, he could do whatever he wanted. No world saving, no training, no report writing, no meetings.

He had scoped out a small little coffee shop in Brooklyn where he liked to spend these quiet afternoons. Usually with a book in hand (he had so many books to catch up on) or some music loaded to his phone (Nat was currently educating him on 90s punk rock) or a notebook and pencil. People watching served as wonderful inspiration to sketch.

He sipped his cappuccino, eyes tipped downward at the book ahead of him on the table. He was interrupted just moments later as someone dropped into the chair across from him.

Now, Steve wasn’t intentionally hiding out at this hole-in-the-wall cafe. But he did put on his laughable disguise still - a beaten up Yankees cap and his prescription-less thick framed glasses. He liked the anonymity. That didn’t always stop people from recognizing him.

As he opened his mouth to question the person who was suddenly joining him for coffee, she slid her phone across the table to him. Her hand shook. His eyebrows flexed into a curious frown as he looked at the screen displaying a plainly typed note:

‘Do you mind if I sit someone is following me home sorry to disturb you’

—

As if your day hadn’t been absolutely terrible enough, you spotted the gremlin of a man on the subway watching you again. You knew he worked somewhere in the same office building as you because he always trailed a few paces behind you when pushing through the revolving doors in the lobby. It wasn’t uncommon to see the same people on the same subway line at the same time every day, but this man’s presence had become an unwanted downside.

He was always there. Worse than that, he seemed to be always watching you. Today, it was even more obvious that he was following you.

When that thought first occurred to you, it had been really easy to shrug off. He was just a guy taking the subway. But when he happened to be on the later train with you one day, an uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach.

And now, as the car was filling up even more after the second stop in DUMBO, he had moved to stand and put himself even closer to you.

You had been going through so many Next Steps. God, that phrase was the bane of your existence. Next steps, next steps..

Maybe you could tell him to fuck off. You could make an appointment with Leanna in HR and see if there is a way to figure out the name of this guy - though he didn’t work for your company so that was likely going to be a dead end. You could start taking the bus to the village before grabbing the train. Maybe you could Uber home some days instead of taking the subway. Not that you could afford that but this guy was..

You stiffened immediately.

This guy was touching you. In the midst of the crowded subway car, he was pressed against you entirely. And was he.. His hips were moving against your leg and.. Wait, that was two hands on your hips now.. Hot breath whispered against your neck and -

Fuck.

You threw yourself through the mob as the train came to a stop. With hurried feet you ran onto the platform and up the stairs, doing your best to weave through the flow of people, like a fish trying to make it upstream. You tried not to be obvious but as you snapped your head over your shoulders to look back, you saw him there again.

He was smirking. No, snarling.

Next steps, next steps.

You joined a sea of people crossing the street, taking your first left to try and steer yourself into a particular direction. You were still a far walk from your apartment but with this man on your heels, you didn’t want to lead him anywhere near there.

You grabbed your phone from your jacket pocket, unlocking it quickly and scrolling through the contacts. Surely there had to be someone you could call but even then, what could they do? Offer advice?

It didn’t occur to you until then but would it be valuable to call the cops?

Despite the late day sunlight, you suddenly felt very aware of the emptiness of the sidewalk on that side street. You needed to be around people. It definitely wasn’t logical to be anywhere near alone with this guy and -

It sounded like his footsteps were getting closer. With a panicked gulp, you yanked on the door of a little hole-in-the-wall cafe. Your eyes scanned the space quickly once you were inside. You probably shouldn’t sit alone, you couldn’t run to the bathroom if you aren’t sure where it is or if you needed a key. There were too many variables.

You needed something. Next steps..

You spotted someone sitting at a small table near the window and without thinking, you sent out a silent prayer to whoever might be listening and you rushed over. The man was clearly alone, a half consumed ceramic mug of coffee sitting to the right of his book.

Swallowing hard, you quickly typed on your phone and slid it across the table to him after you sat. You tried your best to stay very calm and hoped that he would play along. God, what if he didn’t play along and -

Behind you, the door chimed once more and you desperately wanted to see if it was that man - if the gremlin had followed you inside. You clasped your hands together in your lap and forced a smile on as you looked at the stranger sitting across from you.

Despite not knowing him, there was a familiarity about his appearance. Behind his thick glasses, soft blue eyes searched you carefully. His eyes flicked to the screen once more, stiffening in his chair as he looked past you towards the rest of the cafe.

With his right hand, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a small notebook and a pen. He scribbled something quickly and turned the page towards you.

Are you hurt?

You shook your head quickly. He offered you a tight smile and wrote once more.

Buzzcut, grey jacket?

Your eyes blew open wide and you tilted your head into a nod.

I’m Steve

He flipped the notebook closed and extended his hand across the table, palm facing up. He leaned forward just slightly, meeting your eyes with a reassuring smile. “Play along.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand and you slowly unclamped your own, grabbing his on the table instead. He was doing an impressive job splitting his attention between you and his surroundings, eyes scanning the room. He squeezed your hand very gently, brushing his thumb against your knuckles.

“Tell me about your day.”

You sucked in a hard breath. You weren’t entirely sure what his strategy was but something told you this guy was in your corner. Though despite that, you could feel another set of eyes on you.

“Uh,” you started quietly, letting the air escape your lungs. “Surprisingly, I didn’t think it could get worse before I got on the subway after work. I had a review meeting that was not great and we had a free catered lunch that was not vegetarian friendly. Missed an important email and deadline and… well, here I am whining about it and interrupting your day. Listen, I’m going to-

You moved to stand up but Steve shook his head, grasping your hand. “Give it a few more minutes, I think he’ll give up and leave.”

His words were casual but had an authoritative tone. Once more his eyes left you, looking towards the front of the cafe. He raised his free hand and motioned to one of the baristas. You weren’t certain if this was the type of place who served people at their seats but clearly he had a comfortable rapport as the young girl approached with a warm smile on her face.

“Hey Tia, could I get another?”

“Anything for you?” The barista turned her head as she asked, pony tail moving from side to side.

“Uhm.” You paused and thought. You certainly had no desire to even consider a coffee order when you felt someone’s linger gaze boring into you. “A decaf con panna, if that’s possible.” The girl confirmed it was with a nod then left the table side.

“Con panna?” Steve’s lips pulled into a curious smirk. Something about his smile calmed you.

“Espresso with whipped cream on top,” you answered. “Short and sweet.”

“I’ll have to try that next time.”

Steve sure had a soothing smile. When his thumb stopped tracing against your palm - when did that even start? - you felt an empty sadness about the loss. Wow, what did that even say about your standards when a stranger was brushing his thumb against your hand that you were so grateful for? Well, it was a thousand times better than someone rubbing his -

You winced at the memory, biting down as you clutched your bottom lip between your teeth. Though that shameful feeling hadn’t disappeared, you managed to keep it at bay. But now, it seemed to have left an image you were unable to blink away.

The sweet smell of whipped cream and the shuffling of paper cups broke you from your trance. You reached for your bag to fish out a few dollars but when you looked up, Steve was waving a hand to stop you.

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate his kindness. You did. You really, really did. But given the last half hour, you still had a hard time settling your nervous mind.

“Thanks, Tia.” Steve’s eyes were jumping around the place as the barista grabbed the cash he offered. A loud stomp of footsteps drew their attention as the Subway Gremlin saddled up beside the table.

“Sorry to be a bother, darlin’ - any chance I can borrow your phone?”

You couldn’t help but look at him. Though his words were directed at the barista, he made a point to glance over at you.

You felt Steve’s hands grip yours. When you looked towards him, his eyes were very carefully watching the man. How did he manage to -

“Sorry, we don’t have a dedicated line available to customers.” Tia politely shook her head, pointing towards the door. “There’s a CityBank up the street that can help you, I’m sure.” She shrugged and headed back to the coffee counter.

The man stood still, opening his mouth to argue.

Steve sat back, shoulders broad and steady. “Did you need directions there? I think it’s just two blocks. Maybe 500 paces.” His tone was flat. “Just out the door and you’ll be on your way.”

You kept your eyes on Steve. He kept his stare directed at the man. Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, the man moved his feet. He turned on his heel, though not before stopping to look at you again.

“I will see you tomorrow, dar-

Steve released your hand and pushed his chair back, standing quickly and grasping the man’s shoulder.

Steve towered over him. “You have five seconds.” The man pulled away from Steve’s grip then finally stomped away. You kept your eyes tightly shut until you heard the chime of the bell indicating the movement of the door. Then, you collapsed onto your arms on the edge of the table.

Steve, meanwhile, headed to the door and kept watch for a few more moments to ensure the man actually departed from the area. Then, he stopped at the counter and exchanged a few words with Tia before returning you.

You were still doing your best to encourage the floor to open up and swallow you whole. How had this even escalated? The worst part was your mind seemed clouded with doubt. This man, you hadn’t even interacted with him before. Why was he suddenly so invested in you? To a point where he might follow you home? Were you just another target or had this been intentional?

You considered yourself a fairly observant person and yet..

You twisted your hands together in your lap and tried to consider what was going to happen now. Next steps, next steps..

“Hey.” Steve returned to his chair. Your eyes flicked up towards him, noticing he was sliding a bottle of water towards you. Your sad little espresso and whipped cream treat was deflated next to it. “Are you okay?”

You reached for the water bottle, twisting the cap open and taking a long drink. “I don’t know.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you shook your head. “No, actually. I’m not. It somehow feels like my skin is on fire and my lungs are failing me and I’m sweaty but I’m not and - and -

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Steve spoke so calmly and evenly. “Just take a slow breath with me, okay?” You closed your eyes once more and followed his instructions as he walked you through a few breathing exercises. “That’s great, you’re doing great-

When he stopped speaking so quickly, you opened one eye to look over at him. His cheeks were a warm shade of pink and his mouth was twisted into a frown. “What?”

“It just occurred to me I didn’t get your name.” He paused, as if to consider his next thought. “Although, given what just happened with that man, you are under no obligation to tell me anything about yourself. I just.. I’d like to help.”

His genuine concern for you was surprising. You allowed a small smile to stretch across your face. “You’re very nice, Steve.”

You gave him your name and he smiled back, repeating it to himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your smile turned downwards when you looked towards your phone. “I should probably get going. Again, I’m really sorry for dragging you into this mess but I appreciate the… solace.” You took a deep breath and pushed your chair back, pausing to tip the lukewarm espresso into your mouth. “I owe you one.”

You winced when you heard yourself and sighed. Why did you say that? This stranger, this friendly, broad shouldered, tall, handsome stranger who’s day you interrupted, did not need your weird backhanded flirting. In fact, even though every signal in your brain seemed on edge after, well, everything, the only thing that seemed to ground you now was the kindness of Steve. So you tried to will yourself not to ruin it with any additional commentary.

You weren’t entirely sure what had driven you down this particular street into this particular cafe and towards this particular man. But, you were certainly grateful. “Actually, do they have gift cards here? I’d love to buy you one to say thank you and -

“Are you going to walk? Wherever you’re going right now?” When you looked over, you saw that Steve had stood, too. You saw his eyes move towards the door and the far windows up the street where the man from the subway had gone. “I don’t want to overstep but I hope you’ll let me walk you home. Or far enough away to have cleared his radar.”

“I feel like I’ve already wasted enough of your time, Steve.” You truly felt worse and worse for interrupting his afternoon.

“Please, I insist.” Steve tilted his head, half a smirk on his lips. “You just said you owe me one, so. I’m cashing in the favour.”

“The favour repayment you’re cashing in is.. you doing me another favour? Do you know how favours are supposed to work?” Admittedly, you knew you would feel a lot safer having someone walk home with you. And something about Steve made you feel very secure, his presence like a comforting shield.

“C’mon,” Steve replied with a laugh, nudging his head towards the door.

When you stepped onto the sidewalk, you stopped to think. “Let’s go this way.” You turned to the right and Steve followed, staying on your shoulder closest to the street. You walked in a comfortable silence - which made you nervous at first. Then, as your steps fell into a pattern, the quiet soothed you.

You pushed your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you turned down the next block. You looked over at Steve, who turned his head towards you as you shifted. “You didn’t ask anything else about the man.. Who followed me.”

A quiet hum came from Steve. “I didn’t think I should. You seemed shaken up enough.” He shrugged, peering down at you through his glasses. “If you want to talk about it..”

“I work in this big office building in Midtown. The Clifton building?”

Steve motioned his hand diagonally. “Little bagel place downstairs? That’s right down from The Avengers tower, isn’t it?”

You nodded along. Right. Stark Tower was The Avengers Tower, now. It was the most iconic landmark on that block. “Yes. Actually, I work on the 40th floor, which makes for a great angle to see Iron Man coming in.” Your smile was fleeting when you continued on. “It’s a huge building. I work in human resources for this pharmaceutical company.. But there’s a law firm in there, too. Insurance companies, start ups.. Hundreds of people in and out all day long. Yet, that man on the subway has managed to..” You stopped yourself before your chest got too tight. “Let’s just say I’ve seen him around before.”

“Do you know his name?”

“That’s the thing!” You couldn’t help but laugh now, shaking your head in dumbfounded confusion. “No. I have no idea who he is. But he often gets on the same subway line as me, watches me from across the crowd then today..” You stopped and dragged a hand down your face. “It’s a sad truth but I would say most of my friends have been.. Touched inappropriately on the subway before. I guess it’s a weird right of passage or something..”

“Wait - what?” Steve stopped in his tracks and reached his hand out to grab yours. You stopped and looked up at his eyes, somehow both soft and dark with concern. “He touched you? What do you mean?”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering if his ask was authentic. When you saw the disappointment in his face, eyes flooded with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you realized his reaction was genuine. You opened your mouth to explain but suddenly it seemed impossible to find the words.

Steve let go of your hand as he absorbed your lack of response and reached for his phone. “You can file a police report, right?”

“No, no.” You stopped him, placing your hand on his as he held his phone. “Trust me, that’s just paperwork that goes nowhere. Without the guy's name, absolutely nothing would come from it anyway.” You shook your head. “It’s fine, really. I might just adjust my work hours and change my route home for a few weeks. Maybe he’ll give up.”

Steve muttered something to himself, shaking his head. His face shifted from concern to something else, like his brain was working on a different trail of thoughts. He spoke your name quietly, drawing your attention to him again. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Steve’s kindness was a strange contrast to the entire experience on the subway. How one man could have such questionable intentions while another apologizes with sincerity for it was nearly jarring. Although, it did suddenly occur to you that Steve was just as much of a stranger.

“The worst part is.. men like that sever any opportunity for trust in other people. Especially blind trust. Like me telling you, a stranger, where I work and walking you to where I live. Funny enough though - every wire in my brain should be telling me not to and how it was a bad idea but.. I guess there is something about you.”

Steve sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he considered his response. “When you walked into the coffee shop, you could have asked the barista for help or tried to hide out in the bathroom. But you sat next to me instead. How come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, there's just something about you, Steve.”

You walked in silence again, feet falling into a pattern once more. The sky was growing darker, the air cooler. After crossing the street again, you looked at him. “How do you feel about Prezio being traded to the Orioles?” You reached out and tipped up the brim of his Yankees hat. “A tragedy, right?”

A quiet laugh escaped him as he tipped his head. “I think it was a huge mistake. Don’t you think we’ve had a hard enough year as it is?” Your silence was filled with baseball talk instead and it seemed to put both of you at ease.

“This is me.” You stopped outside of a short apartment complex, pointing a thumb to the door.

Steve smiled, one hand in the pocket of his jacket as he studied you. Was this it? After the wild rollercoaster of emotions you had spilled onto him in the last hour, parting with nothing else seemed empty. Lacking. He opened his mouth and closed it, once then twice.

Finally, you cut in. “Thanks again, Steve. Really. If you hadn’t played along and scared him away.. well, I’m not sure where I would be right now. It means a lot that you cared enough about a stranger to make sure I was safe.”

Steve sighed out your name. “I’m sorry your barometer for kindness is so low.”

You sighed. “Yeah, me too.” Part of you wanted to do something. Say something else. Linger a tiny bit longer. But your feet shuffled and your hand reached for the door. “Have a good night, Steve.”

—

“I need a favour.”

“Well, good morning to you, sunshine. Did you lock yourself out of your computer again? FRIDAY can help with that.”

“Tony, this is serious.”

“Okay, okay. I recognize that scowl. How can I help you?”

“If I provided you some video footage from a security camera, can we track someone down? Figure out who they are? For full transparency, it’s just a civilian.”

“Sounds like we’re operating outside of the law, Rogers. Can you provide me with more context? I don’t mind the grey area - I just like the drama, too.”

Steve sighed, then reluctantly explained himself. The cafe. Your panicked message. The stalker of a man. The way you dismissed it all as a normal, unfortunate side effect of existing as a woman. His barista friend provided him with camera footage but he wasn’t sure it was enough.

Tony pinched between his eyes. “Men are scum. And I say that as someone in the practice of trying to be better. Recovering scum, if you will. I’ll see what I can do. FRIDAY, how quietly can we get into the security database at the Clifton building?”

—

Although you hadn’t lied to Steve, it occurred to you on your journey home that your guard should remain up. Which is why you had actually allowed him to walk you to your aunt’s apartment, instead of your own. She was happy to see you burst through the door and insisted you stay for dinner. That was a tiny silver lining to the whole mess.

The next day though, the thought of going into work was suffocating. So you opted to spend the day working from home instead, which your boss had been agreeable to, at least. One day rolled into two and you successfully avoided the office building until the following Monday. But then, you needed a plan. Next steps, next steps.

You took an Uber to the office early and left late at the end of the day, leaving out the back stairway and crossing a few blocks to take a different subway line home. It was unfortunate you had to cater your life to the chance you would run into this goon again, but your sense of security was slowly returning. That had to count for something.

Things shifted later that week. There was a sudden new policy sent out to all the staff in your office outlining new building ownership and training about sexual harassment policies.

“It’s a long time coming,” you heard someone mutter out in the elevator as you headed down towards the lobby.

“Guess Tony Stark just wants to own the whole block,” their coworker chirped back, pulling to loosen his tie.

There was even more commotion when you exited the elevator and walked towards the large glass doors. A team of NYPD officers were standing outside, shoving someone in the back of their cruiser. Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t be certain but from that angle, you certainly recognized the bad buzzcut. Your eyes darted around the lobby anxiously and across the room, a small crowd of suits and officers had formed near..

Tony Stark, himself.

Before you could even try to understand what was going on, you heard someone calling your name. You turned your head and saw someone who looked a lot like -

“Steve?” You took a few steps towards him, pausing to glance from him back at Tony Stark and.. “Oh my god. You’re Steve Rogers. Why didn’t you say something?”

Captain America had walked you home. Hidden behind glasses and a hat. And you always considered yourself observant.

Steve just smirked, shrugging a shoulder. “I didn’t think it was important.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Should I be thanking you for all of this chaos?”

Steve furrowed his brow in mock confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe I’m extrapolating here but the same day my subway stalker gets taken away in cuffs, Stark Industries buys out this building and mandates a new policy and code of conduct.”

Steve pursed his lips, swallowing back a mischievous smirk. “Here’s the thing. It occurred to me that your best choice of action after that day was changing your entire life to avoid that man. And I couldn’t help but think about how broken that system was.”

You sighed. It had occurred to you, too. While you were relieved to shake the man from your trail, your mind considered he would probably turn his attention to someone else. And that wouldn’t be fair.

“Well, Cap. Job well done. That scum of a man had priors in Jersey, too.” Tony Stark himself had walked to where you and Steve stood. His hand clapped on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re at least going to ask her out, right? I mean, I bought an entire building for you - make a move, pal.”

Steve flushed pink and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“I’m getting a bagel. You want a bagel?” Tony raised an eyebrow from you to Steve again, smiling proudly.

“I’m good. I recommend the poppy seed though!” You called as Tony flitted away, narrowly avoiding a proper looking blonde woman who seemed very tired.

You turned your attention back to Steve. “He seems like a lot.”

“He is.” Steve nodded, motioning his hand. “I know it’s only one thing, maybe a ripple in making a difference but.. I’m hoping one less inappropriate person on the subway can give you peace of mind.”

You smiled again. Though you had seen many appearances by Captain America on the news, seeing the man in person was different. It seemed Steve Rogers walked the walk. After parting ways with him before, though he had crossed your mind, you didn’t anticipate your menial issues leading to this.

“Thanks. Really. Even one person makes a difference.” You reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, Steve.”

“I’m sorry about Tony, though. His comments about asking you out and.. that certainly wasn’t my goal here.”

“I don’t know. You just did me a huge favour getting rid of that gremlin. I think I owe you.”

Steve caught your cheeky smile and stood up a bit straighter. “Well, in that case, the Yankees are playing the Sox tomorrow night. Tony never uses his tickets and the seats aren’t half bad. What do you say?”

“You’re cashing in this favour to take me on a date? Usually people ask for help moving or a ride to the airport or something.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Sure. I guess you can take me to the game, Steve. If you ask politely, I’ll probably even hold your hand.”

After work the next day, Steve met you outside and you took the subway together to the stadium. You knew this wasn’t the end of it for you or anyone else worried about their personal boundaries being crossed. But, as you gripped the subway pole and your fingers grazed against Steve’s, you could finally breathe again. For the first time in a while, you weren’t anticipating next steps.

It was just you and the kind stranger from the coffee shop.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x oc #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #reader fanfiction #idk yall #simmerandcry #simmer writes

134 notes · View notes

murdershegoat · 5 years ago

Text

(inspired by this // on ao3 // ko-fi)

she’s had the voice in her head for as long as she can remember

well, it’s not exactly a voice, more just like a really strong, disembodied feelings that echoes loudly in her head and body. like, it’s not her gut feelings, it’s an outside force and it’s loud and sometimes scary.

so whatever she calls it a voice when she’s explaining it to others.

this voice, it guides her decision making. it’s not an exact science (yet) but if she thinks in her head ‘i’m gonna go get ice-cream’ the voice will either say WARMER or it’ll say COLDER

well, it won’t say it because it’s not a voice. it’s more like this disembodied feeling feels like it’s saying WARMER or COLDER and she’ll physically feel it as well.

if she’s supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden warmth

if she’s not supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden chill

she doesn’t know why the voice makes the decisions it does, but she has to assume that it’s leading her towards something, towards success or whatever

at the very least, she has to believe that it’s trying to keep her alive. it’s a survival thing. whatever it is, it’s kept her alive for 26 years and counting.

and though it keeps her alive, it doesn’t always save her from pain. the voice tells her kissing veronica sinclair in the horse stables is a warm idea and veronica ended up breaking her heart and humiliated her in front of the whole school.

when she was four, the voice told her to trust lillian. and that’s led to a whole life of pain.

anyway. the voice.

andrea is the first person she tells about it.

they’re hiking in the amazon during spring break. and, as happens sometimes in life, they come to a diverging path and have to choose. left or right. andrea looks at the compass. ‘it’s not working,’ she says. ‘how fucking convenient,’ lena replies. she sighs and steps to the left path.

‘we’re going left,’ she says emphatically as she feels a familiar warmth roll through her. ‘why?’ andrea asks. ‘i just have a feeling.’

only andrea isn’t swayed by ‘just a feeling.’ she demands more and she refuses to go left until lena finally breaks down and explains the voice

(not a voice.)

‘well what happens if we don’t listen to it??’ andrea asks after a barrage of questions, her analytical mind whirring a mile a minute. lena shrugs, ‘i dunno. i’ve never taken the risk of not listening.’

they go left.

they survive the amazon. the voice is always right.

‘you know,’ andrea says, her head resting against the plane window. ‘my nanny used to tell me stories.’ ‘isn’t that what all nannies do?’ ‘she would tell me stories about people having unexplainable powers or whatever, i don’t remember the details… but i remember her saying that the powers always lead people to the thing they need the most. and it could take months or it could take years but it’s a part of your soul, like, intrinsically in you.’

andrea’s xanax kicks in soon after that and she sleeps for the rest of the plane ride home

lena stays awake the whole flight, wondering what these choices are and what this voice is leading her towards.

the voice leads her through the end of high school and it leads her to MIT (fun fact: she’s never felt a firmer COLDER than she had when she held harvard’s acceptance letter in her hand.)

it really helps her in college. sure, she still makes a lot of what she deems voice-sanctioned mistakes (sleeping with veronica sinclair is at the top of that list) but her grades are stellar and she’s on track for getting her second masters and she has a load of friends.

and then her brother goes insane and tries to kill superman. the sky is red and lena stands in lex’s office overlooking downtown metropolis. ‘join me lena,’ he says. ‘help me and we’ll be unstoppable. we’ve always been a strong family but believe me, we’ll run this country together one day, i promise you that. all i need you to do is trust me.’ he holds out his hand

for a second, she considers doing it. she doesn’t want to lose her family. i am going to trust my brother.

the voice says COLDER.

lena listens to the voice. she always listens to the voice.

it’s the first time the voice has made her lose something - someone - as important as lex. it’s the first time she thinks that maybe this voice thing doesn’t know what it’s doing because it’s never hurt her like this before.

the fallout from lex’s breakdown feels cataclysmic. her friends stop speaking to her, her professors stop calling on her in class. she can’t even work at the library without being harassed.

and to top it all off, she becomes the youngest female ceo of a fortune 500 company. which means board meetings and strategy sessions all while writing a thesis.

but meeting jack spheer feels like finding a life raft in the middle of a ferocious ocean, keeping her afloat, letting her catch her breath. he’s cute and he’s funny and well-to-do, and he’s the type of person lena knows she should date and possibly marry.

jack is the second person lena tells about the voice. she’s scared because she isn’t sure he’ll believe her, that he’ll drop her like the rest of her friends have.

but jack, bless his heart, just asks a hundred questions. ‘so even things like which sodas to drink?’ ‘the voice doesn’t let me drink soda.’ ‘whoa.’

jack is the first person who’s not veronica sinclair lena tells her other big secret to. they’ve been out drinking and eventually they stumble back to jack’s place and she feels brazen enough to blurt it out while he makes her a grilled cheese sandwich. she doesn’t even have time to wait for the voice’s opinion; the truth just falls out of her, unable to stay contained any longer.

‘i’m gay,’ lena says. ‘and i understand if you don’t agree with that lifestyle, but i’m still the same person i’ve always been and i would like to remain friends with you.’

‘a person with terrible gaydar apparently,’ jack replies. ‘as the kids say, it takes one to know one. i would’ve told you sooner but… i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.’ she surges forward and throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly. neither of them lets go.

the grilled cheese burns.

‘should we just get chinese instead?’

the voice says WARMER.

she’s scared of starting over in national city, but the voice in her head seems to think it’s a WARMER sort of idea.

so she packs her bags and jack says goodbye to her at the airport and before she knows it, she’s looking down at NC from her pristine white office. the CVs of two assistants she’s interviewed. ‘i’m going to hire jess chin-salva as my PA,’ she murmurs to herself. ‘WARMER,’ says the voice.

when jess tells her two reporters are at the door, the strapping frame of clark kent isn’t whom she is expecting. she also isn’t expecting kara danvers to follow close behind, kara danvers whose smile is much too bright and friendly to work for a hardened journalist, whose blue eyes twinkle with a kindness lena has seldom been gifted by others, whose biceps are clearly visible through the cardigan she wears.

lena doesn’t have a choice to make, and yet for some reason it screams at her. WARMER. WARMER.

and then it says something new.

WARMEST

the feeling won’t leave lena’s body, and she struggles to focus on the interaction with the journalists, but she thinks she’s managed to tell them the truth. she’s just trying to rebuild her family’s business. she just wants to do good things and make the world a better place. but it’s hard to focus on any of that when her mind and her body feel like they’re on fire.

it only dies down when kara leaves the room, and lena’s pretty sure that there’s something special about that woman.

except maybe there’s just something about the blue eyed women of national city. because later that day lena’s helicopter is shot down and she finds herself being carried to safety by supergirl and the voice goes batshit crazy again.

‘focus on the fact you’re about to die,’ lena tries to tell it, but it doesn’t listen to her. so instead, she doesn’t look away from supergirl’s steady, reassuring gaze until she flies away. and she wonders why supergirl is a ‘WARMEST’.

‘i heard you almost died,’ jack says when he calls her that night. ‘who cares about that?’ she responds, ‘the weirdest thing happened with the voice.’ she tells him of feeling ‘warmest’, of feeling it twice in one day with two different people, of how it refused to go away and occurred without any decisions to make.

‘ok i’m about to share a document with you,’ he says, and lena can hear him typing on his laptop. ‘there, open it.’

it’s a spreadsheet. holy shit.

‘this is every big decision you’ve ever made,’ jack says. ‘there are also some medium sized decisions thrown in, but mostly just the big ones.’ ‘how the hell do you know all this?’ she asks, shocked. ‘why else do you think i’ve been asking you about all this for so long?’ he replies. ‘every time you tell me something the voice says, it’s gone into this spreadsheet. now, i only have limited knowledge of decisions you made before you met me, but i’ve been able to put in a lot of them based on your stories alone. i thought, what better way for you to try and understand this than to put it into words you understand best?’

‘you’re phenomenal,’ lena tells him. ‘i just… i never thought of this. i just assumed it was all some unknowable hippy dippy nonsense.’

‘i mean, it could definitely still be hippy dippy nonsense. but still take a look at it, see if there are any patterns or anything.’

‘i love you, jack.’ ‘too bad i’m gay, huh’

lena sees a lot more of kara and supergirl, though never at the same time. kombucha dates with kara and supergirl swooping in to save her life every now and again. the voice isn’t as overwhelming in their follow up visits, though a pleasant hum of warmth resides low in her being whenever either of them are around.

maybe, lena thinks, it’s not the voice at all. maybe, she thinks, it’s about time she starts dating again.

but none of the women she sees bring the same warmth that kara and supergirl do.

the decision data that jack put together doesn’t seem to make much sense either. but she continues to add to it, bit by bit.

and then something weird happens.

‘you’re getting more potstickers?’ lena laughs. ‘don’t you have any self control?’

‘i’m only human, lena.’

‘i suppose i should believe you.’

COLDER.

COLDER? she’d never gotten a COLDER near kara before. and why? she shouldn’t believe that kara’s human? of course kara’s human! she’s just an awkward, sweet, kind girl from midvale. it’s not like she’s supergirl, for crying out loud!

holy shit

what the fuck

kara’s supergirl?????

kara’s supergirl. it totally makes sense. why hadn’t she seen it before??????? had she been willfully blind to it?

she made a fool out of me, lena thinks. i should hate her. but the voice says COLDER. huh. so hating kara is off the table.

maybe, she thinks, maybe i knew and i didn’t want to admit it to myself. because clearly kara doesn’t want me to know. and i don’t want to push her into telling me because i don’t want to lose her. i can’t lose her. because i lo---

‘i’m so fucked,’ she tells jack over the phone later that night. ‘kara is supergirl and she doesn’t know that i know and i--’ ‘what is it?’ ‘i think i’m in love with her.’ ‘oh my god FINALLY,’ he yells into the phone. ‘i havent even met kara and i knew you were in love with her. you know she’s all you talk about right? like, you run one of the biggest companies in america and you have a disembodied voice that lives in your head and a million other things going on in your life, and the only thing i’ve heard you talk about for months now is kara danvers.’

‘you did not know’

‘i really did. but im glad you know as well because i can finally present you with my biggest theory on The Voice.’

‘not a voice’

‘remind me what it was that andrea’s aunt or nanny or whoever thought it could be?’

‘that was a million years ago,’ lena says; she hasn’t thought about andrea in ages. she should give her a call. ‘i think it was something about… these types of abilities lead a person to thing they need most in the world.’

‘right. i’ve been doing a lot of new age reading and it hasn’t been pleasant at all and i sort of hated every moment of it, but i think i have some idea of what this could be. it’d explain everything.’

‘well then, what is it?’

‘i don’t think it’s the thing you need most in the world,’ jack says. ‘i think it’s the person you need most in this world.’

‘you mean like-’

‘a soulmate. think about it. somehow every decision that voice has gotten you to make has led you to standing in your office in national city where you met kara for the first time. and what did the voice say when you met kara, completely unprompted?’

‘warmest,’ lena whispers.

‘exactly. warmest. as in, as warm as can be. because the whole time, the thing this voice has been leading you towards is kara danvers.’

lena’s plan for handling all of these revelations is drinking herself into a stupor. and it’s truly wonderful for the most part.

that is, until she wakes up with a headache and someone pounding their fist on her front door.

‘wHAT,’ she yells as she throws open the door.

‘do you want to explain the voicemails you left me last night?’

oh shit. lena’s hungover brain processes that it’s in fact kara standing at the door. she ushers kara in and shuts the door behind them.

‘to be honest with you,’ lena says as she puts on a pot of coffee, ‘i think i’m still a bit drunk and i definitely dont remember what those messages said.’

you said you know i’m supergirl. you said you’re not angry at me for lying to you--’

‘oh that’s not so bad’

‘-- and you said you have proof we’re soulmates.’

fuck.

‘do you want to explain yourself?’

‘can i drink my coffee first?’

… kara watches her drink her coffee.

‘okay,’ lena says. i’ll explain but you can’t ask any questions til the end. deal?’ kara nods.

the third person lena tells about the voice is kara danvers.

‘my whole life i’ve had this… this sort of voice in my head. and when i have a decision to make in front of me, it says WARMER or it says COLDER. it’s how i’ve made every choice since i was four years old, from the clothes i picked to the type of coffee i drink to the college i went to.’

‘like intuition.’

‘not intuition. fuck. i shouldnt tell you any of this.’

COLDER.

‘well. guess i should tell you about this.’

WARMER

‘it’s not intuition. it’s not a gut feeling. it’s not a part of me. it’s something bigger and otherworldly and it’s been leading me my whole life to something… i can only assume something much bigger and more important than i am. except i also think that the thing it’s been leading me to is you. and you don’t have to believe me at all, and god, you don’t have to believe in soulmates but… but far out, kara. i’m in love with you. i’m so in love with you it’s insane. and if you don’t feel the same way, i understand, but please don’t shut me out. i can live without you being in love with me, but i don’t think i can live without you in my life anymore.’

they stand in silence, lena’s plea still hanging in the air between them.

‘on krypton,’ kara says softly. ‘there’s only one way to know if somebody’s your soulmate or not.’

‘how do they do it?’ lena asks, imagining a blood test or a swab or something.

instead kara takes a step closer to her and she puts her hands on lena’s hips and she presses their foreheads together and she says ‘do you feel it?’

‘what--’

but she feels it. a sort of calm washing over them both. the air stills and lena swears she can hear kara’s heart beating and she feels serenity like she’s never felt it before.

‘wow,’ kara says, and before she can stop herself, lena kisses her softly, barely. but it’s still a kiss.

and she can’t really describe it, but she feels the voice leave her.

‘i want to kiss you again,’ lena says. but there’s no voice that says warmer or colder. all there is is kara danvers, nodding her head and saying ‘then kiss me.’

lena has many thoughts about soulmates. she thinks if the universe gives you some sort of magical powers, it should also give you an instruction manual for them. she thinks her soulmate is the most perfect soulmate that’s ever been created ever. but this is the real kicker: lena knows that the voice may have led her to kara, but she’s the one who has to make sure she stays there. they have to put in the work together. love isn’t just a magical feeling, it’s building trust and learning to be selfless and letting someone into your life in a multitude of intimate ways. and now that kara’s in her life, in all of her wonderful glory, there’s no way lena will ever let her go.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #fanfic #my writing

787 notes · View notes

sleepyystarfish-agere-blog · 4 years ago

Text

~ The Secret ~

(Agere Short Story)

It happens so suddenly, you barely have time to think. Your bag, and its contents, spilled all over the floor. Your rival, as usual, finding even more ways to be a nuisance to you day by day.

You wouldn't care.

You wouldn't care, usually, and you don't, not until you see exactly what spilled out of your bag.

A pacifier (an adult pacifier) which you rush to pick up, hoping that against all odds, they hadn't seen it.

You think you got lucky because for a while, they don't say anything. Thank God. They must have missed it, you think.

But then one day, during an especially heated argument, the dreaded words slip out of their mouth.

"Tough words for someone who still uses a pacifier."

You stop dead in your tracks. The smirk quickly drops from their face as they see how absolutely livid you look and they realise that they probably went a little too far.

Completely overwhelmed, you decide your only option is to leave as quickly as possible.

"Wait, I'm-"

You don't let them finish. You rush to the nearest bathroom and try your best not to have a complete meltdown.

"Shit, shit, shit." Unknown to you, they're outside the door, cursing themselves for being so stupid. Maybe the two of you don't get along but this is clearly a sensitive subject for you and they'd never want to genuinely hurt you. Your constant fighting is supposed to be fun! It's jokey. Maybe slightly heated sometimes but nothing you can't get past. Now, though, they're afraid they've completely fucked that up.

After a few minutes, they gently knock on the door.

"(Name)? I'm, I'm sorry." They try. "Um, can I...come in?"

You don't say anything. You want to disappear. You curl up against yourself even harder.

They bite their lip, considering their options right now. They could leave, but then they would be worrying about you the rest of the day and would never stop feeling guilty if something happened to you.

They could stay by the door, but how long would that take? And they would still be worried, not knowing what's happening inside.

They decide they have to check on you, even if you'll hate them for it.

"Hey, I'm, um, coming in, okay?" They call, slowly opening the bathroom door.

You're sat against the wall, near the sink, with your knees tucked in. Your tear-stained face makes their chest ache with guilt.

"Hey..." They approach you cautiously, awkwardly. You've never seen each other like this. They're not sure how to talk to you when it's not an argument. "I'm...sorry. I should have never said that. It was awful and dumb."

They've sat down beside you now. They keep talking, apologising. "I get it if you don't want to talk to me again. I know I, uh, crossed a boundary and stuff. I really am-"

"I'm pathetic." You suddenly say. It's the first thing you've said since running to the bathroom.

"...what?" They're taken aback and a little confused. You should be angry at them right now. You should be shouting and cursing and saying I'll never forgive you and get out but instead you're saying-

"I'm dumb! And so stupid and useless and and-" you're crying now and heaving slightly.

They rush to your side and try to find the right words to say.

"W-what?" They laugh slightly - not in a mocking way. Your words have just caught them off guard.

You finally lift your head from where it was resting, tucked against your knees. You sniff and look at them with tear-filled eyes.

"I am." You say.

"You're not."

"Yes I am!"

They laugh again, more freely now but you maintain your frown and pouted lips.

Before you can speak again, they start to recount all the times you did something good, something right. All the times you knew something before they did and when you beat them again and again. Found loopholes. Devised the perfect strategy. Won against all odds.

"You did all that, didn't you?" They say at last.

"I guess."

"I guess." They mock playfully in that high-pitched tone that's supposed to sound like you, and you can't help but smile. "If you didn't, I might have to check myself into a mental hospital, because I remember it all quite clearly."

"Don't worry. You're right. I...I did do that." You're surprised by how much better you feel already. You're surprised that they have the capability to make you feel anything other than anger. A moment of comfortable silence passes between the two of you before they finally speak again.

"You know, you know it's fine, right?"

"What's fine?"

"Whatever...whatever this is about. I don't care. If it helps you, that's all that matters."

They're referring to your age regression, if they even know what that is. You're glad that they seem to be supportive either way.

"And I won't bring it up ever again, if you don't want me to."

"Thanks." One word isn't nearly enough to express your gratitude but there's not much else you can say or do. You look away, still embarassed by the fact that they know. This secret has felt so big and so dark for years but maybe...maybe it's not such a big deal. They don't seem to think so, anyways. And the relief of someone knowing yet staying makes your chest feel lighter than it ever has been.

They just nod. So simple and casual. Again, you realise they know, they know. But they're still here. And they couldn't care less. It doesn't change a thing.

"I'll get your stuff. You were going to walk home, right?"

"Mhm."

"I'll drive you."

"I-"

"I will. No objections."

They hold a hand out to you to help you stand and encourage you to wash your face in the sink. You let them grab your things. You let them lead you to the car and you let them drive you home, feeling light and small and safe all the way.

#agere #cglre #agreregression #sfw #short story #sfw agere #writing

14 notes · View notes

secretlysheikah · 4 years ago

Text

Tower troubles: Haze

Well after Tumblr decided to force close on me I finally got this chapter edited! I hope you all enjoy it.

As always, I do not claim ownership of the Linked Universe. That joy belongs to @jojo56830 Check them out! I’m just a dope who keeps writing things because I have no self control.

I can’t think of any trigger warnings, but let me know if I missed something.

Edit: I apologize if there’s mistakes with grammar or spelling, like I said I was having trouble fighting with tumblr while I was editing. So If you see something let me know!

Enjoy!

Start here:

Hyrule and Twilight moved Wild’s bed roll quickly, and once it was set up It didn’t take long for Wild to slide under the covers and pass out again. Twilight hadn’t left his side since and everyone could tell he wouldn’t leave without being forced. So of course everyone looked to Time to make the call. Time couldn’t recall exactly how he had gained the role of de facto leader but he just decided to roll with it rather than fight it. He wouldn’t mention it to anyone but he kind of liked the idea of being the father figure in some strange way. Being the father figure had it’s perks. It gave him new insights to how each person in their group handled stressful situations. Twilight for example, would often turn retrospective. Becoming quiet and stoic and often would step into the place of second in command. The downside to that however is the fact that Twilight would sacrifice important things like eating and sleep if he deemed it necessary. Taking that knowledge into account, Time stood from the side of the cooking pot where he was making another batch of scrambled eggs and went to sit next to Twilight with a sigh.

“How are you holding up?” He asked eyeing the dark bags that clung to the skin underneath Twilight’s eyes.

“Hm? Me? I’m just fine.” Twilight said nonchalantly taking care not to look Time in the eye. Time snorted, easily seeing through his stoic front and decided to cut right to point.

“Pup, you need to sleep.”

“No, I don’t. I told you I’m fine.”

Time gave him a flat look and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really? How long has it been since you slept? By my estimate I would guess about a solid two days.” Time challenged and watched as Twilight worried at his bottom lip before he slumped.

“I’ve gotten some sleep since then,” Twilight said quietly.

“Don’t try to lie to me, you know I can see right through you.” Time responded in kind and put a heavy hand on Twilight’s shoulder.

“I promised I’d watch over him.” Twilight said shrugging off Time’s hand and sitting up straight again, setting his face into a determined mask. Time had a feeling that getting Twilight to sleep was going to be a battle in and of itself but he was ready for a fight. Time sighed and leaned back on his arms and stared at the quickly darkening sky above them. He could see the shimmer of foreign stars beginning to twinkle above them and he steeled himself.

“Alright, I can understand that. But I doubt Wild would want you to run yourself into the ground.” Time tried to reason but was met with a stubborn shake of Twilight’s head.

“What if something happens? I can’t risk it.” Twilight said as his eyes moved sluggishly to look at Wild’s sleeping form. In sleep Wild almost seemed to be completely at ease. If it wasn’t for Wild’s furrowed brow and the occasional small gasp that shuddered through his frame Twilight could almost believe it. Time joined him in looking at Wild and his eye softened. Wild twitched and groaned quietly and Time leaned over and gently laid a hand on Wild’s forehead. It was warm and slightly damp from sweat and fever. Time let his hand fall away and for about the millionth time that day he wished he could do something to help Wild.

“You don’t have to do this alone, You have seven other heroes here to help. Unless you think we’re incapable of protecting our own.” Time said calmly and watched out of the corner of his eye to gauge Twilight’s reaction. He could see something bubbling under the surface and watched as Twilight’s eyes hardened slightly at his comment.

“You know I don’t think that.” Twilight said hotly and Time sat up fully and faced him.

“Then what is it? Why are you so dead set on running yourself ragged?” Time pressed and the pained look on Twilight’s face spoke volumes. Time could feel the bottom drop out of his stomach.

“By the Goddesses Pup, are you punishing yourself?” Time asked in astonishment and the way Twilight set his jaw Time knew that was exactly what he was doing. Time could feel his heart break at the thought of his protégé beating himself up like this. Just how long had Twilight been torturing himself with his own guilt?

“It’s what I deserve Time, I could have killed him. Gods the look on his face when I… I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself.” Twilight whispered as a shimmer of tears glazed over his eyes. Time didn’t know how to respond. He knew anything he could say would just be dismissed off hand. So he didn’t say anything and just reached over and pulled Twilight into a hug. There was a second where he thought Twilight was going to push him away, shut himself down and end the conversation right there. But he was relieved when he felt Twilight’s arms wrap around his back. Time could feel a shudder running through his descendant’s form as he worked to keep tears at bay.

“It’s alright, we’re all hurting.” Time soothed as his rubbed circles on Twilight’s back, willing him to confide in him, to lessen his self imposed burden.

“How can I even call myself a hero when I can’t even tell friend from foe?” Twilight asked in a broken voice that was muffled against Time’s shoulder. Time squeezed him tighter as if he could stop the other from falling apart.

“We were all a victim of Dark’s illusion, punishing yourself like this will not help anyone.” Time whispered as he hugged Twilight tighter.

“Never doubt that while you are a hero it doesn’t make you infallible, you’re only human. A fantastic, brave, selfless, wonderful human.” Time urged pulling Twilight out of the hug to look him in his eyes. He could see the pain in them and Time squeezed his shoulders.

“The fact that you’re still determined to make things right and sacrifice yourself in the name of doing the right thing makes you one of the strongest heroes Hyrule has ever seen. I am so incredibly proud of you.” Time said sternly and watched as the tears that Twilight had been valiantly battling back for the past few minutes finally spilled over and streaked down his face.

“Go to bed, you can trust that we will protect you and Wild with our lives.” Time said letting his hands fall away from Twilight’s shoulders. Twilight nodded mutely and stood wiping away the tears quickly and moved to collect his neglected bed roll. Time sat next to Wild watching over him dutifully until Twilight returned, bed roll in hand and set up at Wild’s back and laid down to sleep.

Time waited for a little while after Twilight laid down to make sure he was actually sleeping. It took a few minutes but Twilight’s tense posture slowly relaxed, and soon Time could hear the slow soft breaths of sleep drift from the bed roll at Wild’s back. Twilight was completely exhausted but Time was sure he would wake up at the lightest of noises. So very carefully he stood and padded away to talk to the others.

“I see you’ve finally got wolf boy to sleep.” Legend said not looking up from the abandoned cooking pot. He seemed to be trying to salvage the eggs but it was a failing endeavor. Not that anyone seemed hungry to begin with.

“Not so loud, this whole situation has really taken a toll on him and I don’t want to disturb his sleep.” Time murmured softly casting a worried glance over to the sleeping pair on the other side of their small camp. There was no sign of movement and Time felt his shoulders relax slightly.

“Well he can join the party, it’s not like we’re doing any better.” Legend muttered acidly and was promptly elbowed by Hyrule.

“Don’t be cruel Legend. Honestly what has gotten into you?” Hyrule admonished in a harsh whisper and Legend had the grace to look ashamed for a split second before it was replaced with a scowl.

“Please let’s not argue, I’m not in the mood,” Time groused and sat on the ground with a soft thump. He felt suddenly tired and he just wanted to figure out the plans for watch and rest. Warriors seemed to sense Time’s exhaustion and gave him a nod.

“Alright, we need to figure out pairings for watch tonight,” Warriors said looking around at the small group of assembled heroes.

“Do we really need to have pairs still? It seems we’re out of danger now that we’re not next to that blasted tower.” Legend asked finally dropping the pretense of trying to fix the eggs to lean back against the stump behind him. Warriors shook his head.

“We don’t know that. Sure we had a change in scenery but now we don’t know where we are and we’re out in the open.” Warriors explained simply and was met with nods and shrugs in agreement. Legend shrugged begrudgingly and gestured for him to continue.

“We should also make sure we report anything we find suspicious,” Warriors continued and Time broke in with a question.

“What would you consider suspicious?” Time asked genuinely curious as to what Warriors would say.

“Odd noises, moving shadows, weird feelings, anything that would strike you as out of place.” Warriors answered as he gave the darkened field around them a distrustful scan.

“Do you honestly think anything like that will show up?” Sky asked softly, his posture straightening and his hand coming to rest on the hilt of the master sword.

“Like I said, there’s no way for us to know, and I would rather be over cautious then caught unawares.”

Time nodded approvingly, he was glad to have someone like Warriors around. Wars was a great strategist that always had a knack for finding the perfect strategy for defense as well as attack.

“Well who wants to be first watch then?” Warriors asked and looked around for volunteers. After a quick debate, watched boiled down to Warriors and Wind taking first watch, Hyrule and Legend taking second watch and Sky and Four for the third watch. Which left Time for the last watch of the night.

“I’ll join you for last watch” Warriors said firmly but Time shook his head.

“I’ll be okay, you need your rest.” Time argued and Warriors pursed his lips.

“No one should be alone for watch, it’s too dangerous.” Warriors reasoned but Time wasn’t convinced.

“But you’ll be tired, how much help will you actually be?” Time asked but Warriors just shook his head.

“That won’t be an issue, and even if I’m tired it’s better than being alone and get snuck up on.”

Time mulled over War’s logic. He didn’t want Warriors pushing himself too far but he couldn’t see another way around it. Still it took some convincing for Time to begrudgingly accept Warriors joining him for the last watch.

“Fine, but I don’t want to hear any complaining that you’re tired then.” Time teased and Warriors waved away his concern.

“Please old man, you act like I’m Sky or something,” Warriors shot back and Sky let out a small noise of protest.

“Hey! It’s not my fault I need sleep, you guys are exhausting,” Sky said with a laugh before he let out a small cough. An alarm bell rung in Time’s head and he eyed Sky with a critical stare.

“You okay Sky? Are you feeling alright?” Time asked letting a note of worry lace his words. Sky gave him small smile and shrugged.

“I’m fine, just had a little tickle in my throat.” He reassured easily and gave Time a lopsided smile. Time hummed in thought, he really hoped Sky wasn’t getting sick that was the last thing they needed. After a few more minutes of scrutiny Time nodded.

“Alright, but if you feel like you’re getting sick let us know.” Time said with a serious look and Sky nodded and gave him another easy smile.

“Will do. Now if you guys don’t mind I’m going to turn in. Don’t stay up too late.” Sky said getting to his feet and made his way to his own bed roll.

There was a little small talk after Sky turned in, but it felt strained. No one really had the energy to talk and any conversation quickly petered out into moody silence. It didn’t take long after that for the others to peel away from the group and make their way to their own beds. Time hung back lost in thought as the others turned in, his mind drifting back to the events of the last few days.

Why? Why did Dark suddenly show himself? They had been traveling around together for the last few months fighting infected monsters with no clue who was behind it, and now suddenly Dark decided to make it known that he was involved? No, something wasn’t lining up. What had changed? No matter how hard as he racked his brain Time couldn’t puzzle out the reason. Maybe he would bring it up to Warriors, he might have some insight that Time couldn’t see.

Time stood then, suddenly filled with a nervous energy that made him want to move. He grabbed the pot over the fire and emptied out the sad attempt at dinner. His eye drifting over to Wild and Twilight as the last of the slightly burnt eggs tipped out onto the grass. His mind turned over the little information he had, trying to find a pattern, a reason for the change in tactics.

It was clear that Dark wanted something from Wild, but did it actually stop there or was there something he was missing. He supposed Dark was testing the waters, testing for weak links in the group. That very idea made his blood boil. They all had their issues sure, but the idea that Dark was actively working to use those issues as a weapon against them made him sick. Time put the empty pot next to the fire suddenly angry and rubbed his face in frustration. He wouldn’t, no, couldn’t let this continue. He didn’t know how, but he would make damn sure that whatever plan Dark was scheming would fail.

Time grabbed his bed roll and walked softly back over to Wild and Twilight. As quietly as he could manage he set down his bed roll and laid down by Wild’s feet but found that sleep wouldn’t come. His mind continued to turn over the conundrum before him. But trying to figure out the plans of a madman was proving to be a bigger task than he anticipated.

Time flopped his arm over his eyes and tried in vain to sleep. He heard Wild shift and grumble uneasily in his sleep and Time draped his other arm across Wild’s legs hoping it would comfort him enough to dispel any nightmares he might be having. Time heard a grunt from Twilight and felt a dull thud of something flop across Wild’s shoulders. Time peeked out from under his arm and saw that Twilight had half draped himself over Wild. For a moment Time was worried that Twilight was awake but smiled softly when he heard a light snore come from Twilight accompanied by a small twitch of his fingers. Wild had stopped moving as well apparently soothed by the added weight. Time contemplated moving Twilight, worried that the added weight would aggravate Wild’s chest but thought better of it when he saw Wild’s lips turn up slightly at the corners.

Time covered his eyes again and made a promise to himself that come what may, he would do everything in his power to protect his family. With that firm promise set in his mind Time finally drifted off to sleep.

***************

Everything was a foggy haze half lit by the silver moon. The fog was so thick Wild could practically taste it, swim through it even. The taste of moss and trees turning lush autumnal colors and a faint sweetness of decaying things skittered across his tongue like dried leaves. Tall trees towered above him like dark sentinels around him and looked down on him like he was a lost child.

Wild was lost. Hopelessly so. He was no longer with his compatriots, next to a warm fire but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how that had happened. His feet were bare and his toes dug into the damp forest floor. He felt a stab of cold shoot through his legs. Was he dreaming? Wild squinted around, examining the new landscape and took stock of what he remembered.

Wild remembered the weight of a pelt around his shoulders. The smell of wood smoke and the pull of stitches. Wild rubbed at his eyes, and took a deep breath trying to ground himself. He remembered being in pain, and the hum of voices around him but he couldn’t recall what was said. He was injured right? Yes, he was sure of that now, so why wasn’t he in pain now? He racked his brain grasping at loose threads of memory but couldn’t get them to connect. It seemed the more he tried to connect the loose threads of his ragged memories, the faster they would flutter away like butterflies on a breeze.

“Alright then, I’m dreaming.” Wild muttered aloud finally coming to a decision though that revelation brought little comfort. He sighed and put his hands on his hips and took another look around the foggy landscape and thought of his next step but came up with nothing. He couldn’t really see father than a few feet in front of him. He couldn’t see a trail or even the signs of animals moving between the brush.

“Would it be too much to ask for a hint?” He grumbled but didn’t get a reply. Wild snorted in exasperation and tapped his foot. He didn’t like the idea of wandering around the woods. The last time he did that it didn’t end well and he didn’t like the possibility of being caught off guard. He shuddered when the unwanted memory of black water and hands holding him down tickled at the back of mind. He sniffed and wiped at his nose in an attempt to distract himself. When the memory still clung to his thoughts he dug his toes into the dirt again and hugged himself. He knew it was a pointless attempt at self comfort, he could tell there was no comfort to be had in this place.

“Fine, it’s my dream. I’ll just stand here and do nothing.” He yelled into the darkened woods hands flying into the air to emphasize his words. He was being petulant he knew but he was getting fed up with this. He just wanted to rest, to be still and not have to think, just for one Hylia damned night.

“Why does my subconscious have to be so cryptic? Would it kill me to have a dream that’s straight forward?” Wild complained to himself as he started to pace. The fog was unnerving him with how still it was. He could feel mist beginning to cling to his eyelashes and he wiped it away in irritation. There was snap of a twig somewhere in the distance and his eyes snapped to the noise. Suddenly tense like a deer being stalked in the woods. Wild’s eyes stared intently into the suddenly swirling fog and waited with baited breath.

“Bold of you to assume this is your dream.” A dark voice chuckled in his ear and he yelped in surprise and looked around wide eyed. An arrow shot past his leg and buried itself deep into the ground beside him parting the fog around it. He stared at it dumbly, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. There was a another whisper of a voice just behind him and the hairs on his neck rose.

“Run.”

Wild turned and ran, not waiting for another hint.

Small twigs and rocks crunched and cut into his feet as he fled through the woods. His breathes came out harsh and fast, matching the frantic pulse in his throat. He leapt nimbly around larger rocks and bushes trying to put distance between himself and his unseen pursuer. Whenever he seemed to slow another arrow would thunk into a tree next to him and he would redouble his speed. He couldn’t run forever, his legs were screaming with the effort of his mad dash and his head was beginning to spin from lack of oxygen. Coming to the realization that the chase wouldn’t end anytime soon if he continued his mad dash, he slammed his heels into the dirt and skidded to a halt. Wild crouched and spun to face behind himself as another arrow whistled past his head.

‘Think damn it, stop being reactive.’ He thought savagely to himself as he took cover behind a tree when yet another arrow carved a divot out of the bark of the tree next to him. Panting Wild scooped up the arrow and held it defensively. It wasn’t the best weapon but it was only thing he had, and he had to make it work. Peeking out from his cover he saw nothing but swirling fog, looming trees and shadows. The arrows seemed to have stopped for now and he stood and hugged close to the tree.

“Alright, so if it’s not my dream then whose is it?” He called out in a breathless wheeze and was met with more laughter. He grit his teeth looking for another place to take cover.

“You’re kind of an ass, you know that right?” Wild snapped as he dashed to another tree and grabbed a second arrow. There was the sound of snapping twigs as his assailant moved closer.

“How rude! Don’t you know who you’re talking to?” The voice said in mock scorn.

“Oh I have a guess, but what I don’t understand is why you’re trying to kill me. Wouldn’t that be counter intuitive to your goal?” Wild asked as he eyed another tree and judged the distance.

“Oh, Wild. Who said anything about killing you? I’m just having some fun. You did ask for a hint after all.” The voice taunted from the other side of his tree. Without hesitation Wild whipped around the tree and stabbed the arrow deep into the trunk on the other side. Wild felt a savage kick to his lower back that sent him sprawling into the dirt.

“You missed,” Dark said in an almost bored voice.

Wild snarled and rolled just in time to avoid the boot that stomped down where he just was. Wild sat up quickly and jabbed the second arrow deep into Dark’s thigh. Black mist hissed out from the contact and Dark gave a loud roar of rage and swung an arm that narrowly missed the side of Wild’s head.

Wild rolled away again and sprung up to face his dark counterpart. Wild watched as Dark grabbed the arrow and threw it aside. Black mist roiled out from the wound but Dark paid it no mind. His red eyes flared brightly as Dark cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.

“Is that anyway to treat your superior? You should be bowing at my feet!” Dark roared and rested his hand on the pummel of his sword. A clear threat burned in his gaze and Wild matched it with a glare of his own.

“I’ll never bow to the likes of you.” Wild spat bouncing lightly from foot to foot getting ready to dodge any attack that might be thrown his way. They stood facing each other for a moment and Wild watched as Dark seemed to collect himself, taking a deep breath. His bright red eyes faded slightly as he seemed to force himself to calm down. Wild didn’t trust it and he tensed, ready for a fight.

“I’m sorry, I lost my temper there for a moment.” Dark apologized softly, hand falling away from his sword. Wild was caught off guard at Dark’s attempt at a casual tone. He squinted at his dark doppelgänger, still tense and he waited saying nothing. Noticing this Dark chuckled dryly and rolled his shoulders again in an unnerving parody of Wild.

“You must be curious, I know I would be,” Dark said casually as he eyed Wild.

Still Wild said nothing, only stared with hard eyes at Dark. Wild waited for him to continue but the silence stretched between them. Wild felt his hands start to fidget and he forced himself to be still. Just as Wild was about to snap from the tension Dark finally spoke again.

“The silent treatment, how predictable,” Dark nettled and smiled when Wild sneered.

“That’s alright, I just need you to listen anyway. You see I was impressed by your performance at the tower.” Dark continued and began to walk around him. Wild narrowed his eyes and moved to keep Dark in sight.

“You handled the other’s attacks beautifully you know. I’m sure that if you wanted you could have destroyed them easily. I was practically speechless, truly I was. Which gave me a new perspective on a possible new avenue for our relationship.” Dark said casually as he put his hands behind his back. The vision of contentment and ease.

Wild felt bile at the back of his throat and his tongue was growing numb with horror and rage. The memory of that day blazed brightly in his mind. The siren song of sword on shield rung in his ears and the taste of copper flooded his mouth. Wild was ashamed to admit that it filled him with a sick sense of pride. He was about to spit out a reply when Dark raised a hand and suddenly Wild’s jaw locked around his words. His hands flew to his mouth on instinct and he watched Dark smile.

“Please give me moment to explain myself.” Dark said with a wolfish grin. Wild glared at him and bared his clenched teeth.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that you’re healing has been hindered quite a bit. That potions and fairies aren’t quite as helpful as they once were maybe?” In a blink of an eye Dark was gone and Wild looked around himself with wide eyes. He was met with the sight of swirling fog and the faint sound of snapping twigs. A ghost of a laugh trilled from all around him and Wild huffed out an angry snort. Wild’s jaw ached from the magic keeping him mute.

No matter how hard Wild tried to pry his mouth open he couldn’t get his teeth to part. He tried to say words around his teeth but his vocal cords seemed frozen as well. Dark, it appeared was intent on keeping him quiet for now.

“At first I was just going to keep you weak and injured. Slowly wear the others down with the weight of their own worry and guilt while I slowly tightened my grip over your soul.” Dark’s voice chimed in the silent fog around him and Wild continued to scan the trees.

“But then it occurred to me, why have a puppet when I could have an ally instead?” Dark continued and if Wild could have said anything he would have been raging. Screaming his defiance until his throat bled. For now he curled his hands into fists at his side and focused on keeping himself a moving target.

“I see the look on your face, but hear me out. The others don’t see your potential! You’re absolutely devastating in battle, imaginative and quick witted. They’re wasting your talent.” Dark praised, his voice seemed to be behind him now. Wild slowly turned in a circle, eyes continually scanning in a futile attempt to find where Dark was hidden.

“If you join me I could hone your skills, make you unstoppable.” Wild felt a hand brush his shoulder and he spun to face it but was only met with more fog. A delighted chuckle rang out all around him and Wild felt a painful tug at his chest. He gasped and clutched at his heart as the tug became a burning pull. The feeling was akin to a fishing line being reeled in with a hook buried deep in the soft tissues of his heart.

“I could heal you, and you and me could rebuild your Hyrule. Make it better than before and redeem yourself in the eyes of the people you’ve failed. Hell, I can even make you whole once again, give you your memories back. And all you have to do is join me.” Dark said as he slowly walked out of the mist, one hand raised lazily in the air. Wild could see Dark’s fingers twitch ever so slightly as he talked.

Wild backed up against a tree breaths coming out in harsh gasps. He wanted Dark to shut up and let him think. He wanted the irritating pull at his heart to stop. But most of he wanted the traitorous thoughts that whispered in his mind to take the deal to be silent. Those little voices made him sick and he kept repeating to himself that it was all lies. Legend warned him Dark would try to manipulate him, this was just a way to try to gain his trust or play off his own guilt. No, he wouldn’t accept this. There was no way he would accept. Never. He repeated to himself with all the shaky determination he had left.

“Or maybe it’s not Hyrule or yourself you’re looking to fix,” came a whisper in Wild’s ear and he swung a desperate fist, trying to connect with Dark but was only met with empty air.

“I can help her you know, Zelda.”

Wild’s heart skipped a beat. His blood ran cold and he covered his ears trying to block out Dark and his slimy words that promised impossible things. Guilt ripped at his heart like a physical blow and it was all he could do to stay standing. Though he couldn’t see Dark anymore, Wild knew he was grinning an evil toothy grin knowing he scored a hit.

“You’ve seen her wake up screaming, weeping and broken. It must break your heart to see her that way. I could help her, heal her, make her whole again and take that pain away.”

Wild fell to his knees wheezing in broken breaths. Lies, it was all lies. Guilty tears pricked at his eyes and he curled in on himself but Dark’s words still found their way into his head.

“You left her alone for over one hundred years with the Calamity.” Dark’s voice whispered softly through his mind. The words caught like cobwebs on the shattered edges of Wild’s guilt and clung there like sticky sap on a tree’s bark.

“It must break you every time you see her screaming from night terrors or see how she flinches away from unexpected touches. Especially since you know it’s all your fault.” Dark said almost soothingly. Wild heard the crunch of leaves and stones as Dark stood in front of him. Wild didn’t look up, couldn’t look up, he felt chained to the misty floor by Dark’s words. In one fluid movement Dark sat on his haunches and gently brushed Wild’s bangs away from his face.

“If you help me, I’ll help you fix what you’ve destroyed by your constant failures.” Dark finished kindly, his hand dropping away from Wild’s face.

Wild finally lifted his tear stained face to meet Darks glowing red eyes. When had he started crying? Wild couldn’t remember. Wild was breathing so hard it shook his frame. He didn’t know what to think, his head was filled with conflicting emotions. Rage at Dark’s assumptions that Zelda was somehow broken warred with guilt over his past failures. Worst of all there was a horrible, desperate part of him that begged for the redemption Dark promised. He hated how his heart fluttered with a devastating hope. Hated how even knowing that it was all lies, just a means to an end, a small part wanted to trust Dark and his slimy false promises. Dark seemed to see Wild’s inner turmoil and he smiled kindly.

“This is a lot to process I know. If I were you I’d be reeling. Tell you what, I’ll give you some time to think it over. I’ve got plenty of time after all.” Dark said as he stood smoothly and turned and walked slowly away with an airy wave. His posture practically screamed his delight at the chaos he just caused.

Forcing himself to his feet Wild stood shakily and held his head in his hands. His mind was still screaming confused and conflicting thoughts and arguments and he fought to get them back into order. He felt the magic making him mute suddenly snap away and he coughed and gagged as the bitter magic seemed to drip down his throat.

“I promise, I’m going to kill you.” Wild called weakly after Dark’s retreating form and he heard a soft chuckle on the breeze.

“Oh, we’ll see about that. I would wish you a good night’s rest, but I think it’s about time for you to wake up.” Dark called out without turning around. With a wave of his hand Wild felt his body suddenly fall limp. Before his head hit the ground of the misty forest floor his eyes popped open and the sudden rush of reality crashed over him in a wave of pain and misery. It was going to be a long day, and he felt nowhere near ready to face it. But it wasn’t as if he had a choice. He never had a choice.

#legend of zelda #linked universe #wild linked universe #angst #tower troubles #fanfic #linked universe fanfic #linkeduniverse

58 notes · View notes

downwiththeficness · 4 years ago

Text

A Need So Great Chapter 12

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~4,000

Warnings: Smut

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape @revolution-starter @autumnleaves1991-blog @jedi-mando @buckysalefty

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Eva woke desperately needing to pee. She was laying on her back, hands on either side of her head. Horacio’s arm was thrown over her waist, his body angled towards her. She looked over at him, his face completely relaxed, breaths slow and even. A beautiful man laying in repose.

Very carefully, she extricated herself from him, padding to the bathroom. Afterwards, as she was washing her hands, Eva flinched at her reflection in the mirror. Bruises had formed over her hips, on her thighs, around her wrists. He’d sucked hickeys over her stomach and breasts. When she turned, her back was similarly marked. At her neck was a clear bite, just over the scent gland behind her ear.

She ran two fingers over it, the skin sensitive and warm. Eva wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing at the time, knew the consequences of this actions. She stared at it, feeling flushed.

Hands on the counter, Eva debated her options. She could try to hide it, but experience taught her that Horacio was nothing if not observant. She could sneak out, but she’d run the risk of implying she was unhappy with the bonding mark on her neck. The truth was quite the opposite. She tamped down the excitedly happy feeling, trying not to get ahead of herself.

Turning off the lights, Eva gingerly opened the door and crawled back into the bed, hauling the comforter with her from where it had been kicked off in the night. Horacio grumbled as she slid in next to him, hands already pulling her into his chest, a sleepy kiss touching her brow. Eva smiled and snuggled down, falling back asleep.

When she woke again, she was alone. The bed was still warm, but he wasn’t there. Groggy, she scooted to standing and dug through her overnight bag, pulling on a t shirt and shorts. With a yawn, she headed to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and stopped herself from pulling her hair up. Probably best that she leave it down for the moment.

Rubbing at her eyes, she stepped out into the hall and towards the living room, searching. He was sitting on the couch, head in his hands. He’d donned a pair of sweatpants, and even from a distance she could see that she’d scratched him across the arms, parallel red lines running from his tricep down around to the bend of his elbow.

A kind of tentative self consciousness settled over her. She’d been worried about the way her body looked, she hadn’t stopped to consider what she’d done to him.

As if sensing her, his head lifted and he fixed her with a hard gaze. Eva bit her lip, unsure in her approach.

“How did you sleep?” she tried, remaining in the doorway.

His eyes softened, “Good. Really good.”

Lifting a hand, he reached out to her. Relieved, Eva shuffled towards him, taking it. He pulled her to sit next to him. Eva went willingly, settling in and pulling her knees beneath her. They sat in silence for a few moments, and Eva could feel the tension in him.

“We need to talk about this,” he said finally.

Eva looked up at him, “About what?”

“This,” he touched the side of her neck, just below where he’d marked her.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes falling to half mast as the sensation lanced through her body. It would be like that until he finished the bond, every caress met with an urgent push of desire.

“What about it?”

Scoffing, he dropped his hand, eyes rolling, “This is serious, Eva.”

She knew this, “I know.”

God, but it was serious. She knew it. And yet, she couldn’t drudge up the ire she should definitely be feeling for what had happened. She didn’t want to.

“Then treat it seriously.”

Eva wasn’t quite prepared for the anger that traveled throughout his tone. Insecurities that she had worked to overcome reared up and it took a moment for her to realize that he was waiting for her to say something.

Looking at her hands, she said, “I don’t know how you want me to react.”

Sighing, he stood, pacing away from her a few steps, hands running through his hair, “I want you to react honestly.”

No, you don’t, Eva thought. He wanted her to be angry, to cry, to feel badly about it. He wanted her to feel like he felt. It hurt, that conclusion. She felt pressure in her chest as she tried not to cry. This was not going well. No. Fuck that. She wasn’t going to be cowed by her own insecurities in this. She could tell the truth.

“I’m fine,” read: ecstatic, “About it.”

He repeated the word ‘fine’, hands on his hips. She couldn’t quite decipher his expression, it was so closed off. Months had passed since she had felt this kind of distance between them—like he had been when they were first circling around each other.”

“Eva, you should be pressing charges. I initiated a bond without your permission.”

She shrugged, “I wasn’t saying no.”

“You weren’t saying yes,” he countered, growing agitated, “We didn’t talk about it first.”

Again, she shrugged, “I’m not angry about it.”

“Well, I am,” he bit out, jaw tight.

She looked away, the slow, fervent hope that she’d tried so hard to keep at bay dissipating like fog in sunlight. Eyes closed, Eva leaned back on old defense strategies, wiping her slate clean and shutting away the situation in front of her.

“No,” he muttered, hustling towards her and kneeling down, hands on her knees, “No, don’t do that. I didn’t mean it.”

Eva’s mouth thinned, “You did.”

“Not that way,” he clarified, his chest pressing against her shins.

The way he was looking at her, that beseeching expression, the way his hands dropped and circled her ankles. Eva didn’t know how to deal with knowing he was angry and seeing him looking at her so intently.

“Then, how did you mean it?”

His lips parted, and she could see how difficult it was for him to find the words, his brows drawing together.

“I took away your choice.”

Eva blinked, “You didn’t.”

With a little laugh and condescension in his tone, he replied, “I was in rut, Eva. You couldn’t have stopped me.”

Her mouth curled, “You don’t know that.”

Licking his lips, he dropped his chin, eyes narrow, “In all the years I’ve been on the job, I’ve never—never—had sex on duty. Not once. And not only did I break that record, I did it in my office with other officers in the building.”

Eva chuckled, running her fingers over his cheek, “Most of them were gone. It was extremely unlikely that we would get caught.”

His eyes closed, he took a breath, then fixed her with a level glare, “That is not the point.”

She turned her hand over in question, “Explain it to me.”

“I lost control,” he answered, his voice cracking. His hands rose to her knees tightening and releasing as he said it, as if to emphasize his words.

Eva gave him a soft, understanding look, “That’s normal for a rut.”

Horacio shook his head, “Not for me.”

She gave him a disbelieving look, “Really?”

He frowned, “You think I haven’t had a rut before? You think I haven’t had one with an omega? I have, and I have never…” he paused, the words hanging between them. Then, he visibly switched gears, “When I saw you standing at my desk, that was it. It was over. I don’t know what I would have done if you told me no.”

She smiled a little, joking, “I’m not that kind of tease.”

Shaking his head, he continued, “I don’t know what I would have done if you said no and meant it.”

And there it was. They’d gone full fucking circle. Their first real conversation outside of the prying ears of others echoing all the way to this exact moment. Except now, she could see that he wasn’t afraid of scaring her. He was afraid of scaring himself. This was a man with one foot in the darkness, who was constantly on guard against dropping both feet in. She could work with that.

“I didn’t say no, and I’m not saying no, now. If things… go pear shaped, we both still have a choice.”

She watched him process what she was saying. Although, he’d started the bonding process through the bite that scored the skin over her scent gland, they could still make the decision to stop it. Eva would have to go through one more heat by herself. It would be painful, far more painful than the one she’d just experienced, because her body knew at its very core that there was an alpha she could go to. But, she would do it, if he asked.

Horacio went very still, his expression stormy, mouth thin in displeasure. She bit back the urge to keep talking, unsure. And then he was moving, lifting up off the floor, pushing her into the back of the couch. His hand wrapped around the base of her throat, the meat of his palm resting on her collarbone. He wasn’t squeezing, but his grip brooked no argument. She was not to move.

“If you think I’m going to let you go through a heat without me, especially now, you are mistaken.”

He already had, but he didn’t know that—she may never tell him.

Eva floundered, “I...I mean—I can’t ask you to...”

He growled, hauling her up to stand on the couch. She wobbled, looking down at him, her hands on his shoulders for balance.

“The second,” he enunciated slow, “The second I sense you’re in heat, I will be on you. God help us if it starts in the embassy. We’ll be lucky if I don’t knot you in the fucking supply closet.”

Eva gasped, scandalized. Although everyone was taught the basics of pair bonding, it still wasn’t talked about so plainly. The image of them lying on the cold tiled floor, helplessly grabbing at each other, him grinding up into her to slot that thick ridge of flesh into her body—she was pretty sure she was blushing all over.

Horacio smiled, full dimpled, his hands sliding up her legs to palm her ass, “If I could have done it last night, I would have.” He pressed his nose to her sternum, “For a moment, I thought I might. You were so hot and wet and smelled so good. Fuck, I’ve never been that hard.”

His arms tightened as he took her weight, carrying her from the living room towards the bedroom. Eva moaned as she felt his erection pressed against her center. He laid her down in the middle of the bed, pulling off her t shirt and shorts, throwing them over the side. There was no way to hide the marks now, the bruises shadowing over her skin in the morning light. Eva watched him look at her body, his expression unreadable.

“Do you hurt?” he asked, eyes catching hers.

Eva did hurt. She was sore in all the right places, little twinges that reminded her constantly of their night together.

“A little,” she answered, her voice low.

He nodded silently, fingers tracing over a particularly deep hickey on her breast. Then, he moved down to her belly, where there was bruising the fit the shape of his hand. He mapped it, fitting his hands over the marks, brows together. Eva squirmed a little, thinking that she should be used to this kind of scrutiny from him by now. The frank assessment and cataloging of her injuries felt like a new experience every time. Anxiously, she awaited whatever judgment he might make.

Crawling up to lay beside her, Horacio nosed along her collarbone, whispering, “Let me make it up to you.”

Eva rolled to her side, facing him. She placed her hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently, “You don’t have to apologize.”

He shook his head, a curl falling over his brow, “I want to. Will you let me?”

Unable to deny him such a sweet thing, Eva nodded, leaning over to kiss him lightly. He sighed into it, hand falling naturally to her waist as he gathered her to him. More little kisses followed, a bare taste of what she knew he was capable of. Eva felt her body go lax, her limbs resting wherever he moved them, her eyes half closed.

Very carefully, he tilted her head back, his mouth tracing a long line from her shoulder to the place where he’d bitten her. She knew it was tender and raw, likely a little swollen—her heartbeat pulsing beneath the skin. Here, he placed the softest kiss of all, barely brushing his lips over it. Eva’s fingers curled into her palm as she trembled.

“I would do it again,” he breathed, a little prayer against her skin, “I would.”

She knew how much that confession cost him, knew it without him having to say a word. Eva’s eyes closed, a strange feeling welling up. It was something more than affection, more than want or need. It sent a weird kind of pain into her chest that was only soothed by pulling him into a hug, her face pressed against his chest.

“Lay back.”

Eva let him roll her to her back, watching his hand as it smoothed a path down the middle of her chest, settling on the soft roundness of her belly. He kissed her brow, letting his forehead press to her temple as he, too, followed the course his hand was taking.

Slowly, gingerly, he swept over her hips and down her thighs, opening them with just a little pressure. He thumbed the bony outcrop of her hip, sliding one finger down the crease where her thigh met it. Eva bit her lip, trying to keep her breathing even.

The backs of his fingers roved upwards, circling her breast, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Eva felt her breath leave her in a soft gasp, the feeling oozing from her nipple down to her core. Warmth spread across her skin, goosebumps not far behind.

Leaning down, he sucked the nipple he wasn’t playing with into his mouth, teeth scraping. Eva arched up in offering, a soft little cry escaping her lips. She held him there, one hand in his hair, the other digging into his shoulder—not that she needed to. He seemed perfectly happy to stay right where he was, moving from breast to breast, tongue gliding over her skin.

It wasn’t long before she was squeezing her legs together, the ache in her body rising past her want to keep still and open for him. Horacio lifted up, admiring the way her skin glistened from his kisses. Eyes dark, he tapped the leg nearest to him, a wordless command.

Eva let her hips relax and her knees open wide. He smiled at her, pleased, the pads of his fingers roaming up her inner thigh until they rested against her.

“You’ll tell me if it hurts.”

Not a question. His voice had dropped down an octave, the directive clear and concise. Eva would not be able to deny him, not in this, either. Using ever increasing pressure, he spread her slick up and down. Meticulously, he separated each lip, gathering the wetness and ensuring there was a nice, easy coating. Eva’s limbs flinched each time he circled upwards to round her clit, not quite touching the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Slipping down, he circled her opening, much as he had done the previous evening. A slow, even pace, Horacio took his time with it. Pleasure surged every time he put a little bit more pressure on it, not quite breaching.

Eva whined, tilting her hips as she tried to get him to go just a little bit further. It would do no good, she knew that. He was going to do what he was going do, at the pace he wanted to do it. It was a stark contrast to the previous night, where his body had taken over completely, an animal loosed on her. Now, he’d regained control and it appeared that he was determined to keep it.

She bit her lip, fighting the urge to grab at his wrist, to hold him steady and drive down onto his fingers. This was as much for him as it was for her, and though she wasn’t nearly as patient, she could try. That didn’t mean that she was perfectly abiding by his unsaid plan. Eva rolled with every stroke, moaning and writhing as the pleasure built.

Horacio was definitely not unaffected. His erection dug into her side, though she could tell he was making an effort to keep from grinding it against her. Eva had tried to touch him a few times, but he pushed her hands away, his focus entirely on her.

When finally, finally, he eased a finger into her, Eva keened as if he’d worked his cock into her, the muscles of her body clenching down. He paused, thumb swiping ever so softly against her clit, his eyes on her face. He watched her breathe, her eyes squinting at the pain laced pleasure he was giving her.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He’d asked the same question the night before, only this time he wasn’t smirking. Looking concerned, he waited for her answer, hand perfectly still inside her.

“No,” Eva replied, swallowing around a dry throat.

After another beat, he huffed out a breath through his nose, his wrist turning as he eased the digit in and out of her, curling it slightly to catch on her g spot every time he pulled out. Eva felt her eyes roll back as he pushed another finger into her, stroking along her walls.

His name coming out in four sharp syllables, Eva grabbed at the pillow beneath her head. She was exhausted and sore and she still wanted to come. Digging her feet into the mattress, Eva met his measured thrusts, a little ‘unh, unh, unh’ eeking out with every one.

Breaths stuttering, her body flexed, bowing up as she came. He cooed at her, his free hand pushing the hair from her face as he kissed everywhere he could reach. Eva had a hard time catching her breath, her body shivering despite the heat of him laying next to her.

“Alright?” he asked, looking her over.

Blinking, she smiled at him, lifting up to kiss him soundly on the mouth, “I’m good.”

Glancing down, she realized that he was still hard, tenting the material of his sweatpants. When she went to stroke him, he caught her hand, bringing it up to his lips to give it a soft kiss of censure.

“That was for you,” he explained, shifting to his back and pulling her over to lay against his chest.

They laid like that for an hour or so, until her stomach growled. He laughed and swatted her thigh lightly, telling her to get dressed and that he was taking her to lunch. Not far from his house, there was a little cafe, the smell of food wafting out into the street. Eva was surprised when he set her down into a chair next to him rather than across from him, as he usually did. She was even more surprised when he held her hand on the table.

He caught her questioning gaze, “Its impossible to hide, now. Anyone would be able to tell the second they got into a room with us.”

That...was not untrue. He’d started the mating process, and their bodies would continue to adjust and change to that process the longer it went on. Even after the bite healed, she’d carry his scent just as much as he would carry hers.

“I...have to broach the subject of safety, Eva,” he started, “I’d like to put an officer on you, at least when I’m not there.”

Eva rolled her eyes, “Is that necessary?”

He bobbed his head, “It is. I do have a bounty on my head, and they aren’t above using people I care about to…”

His words trailed off, but Eva knew what he was getting at. She could be used as bait, to get him to act, to scare him, to get him to do what they wanted. Sighing, she nodded, not willing to fight with him about it, knowing that she wouldn’t win, anyways.

They were almost through with their meal when Eva spotted her, a tall, willowy blonde walking in heels too tall a stroll through this kind of neighborhood. Her fork clattered to her plate, startling the man next to her. He followed her line of sight, squinting.

Eva could not be lucky enough that she wouldn’t be seen, and her heart nearly surged out of her chest as the object of her ire saw her, scowled, and changed course. She stood, circling around the table to meet her.

“Hello, Myra,” she greeted, not quite keeping her voice even.

Myra had aged a little in the fifteen years since she’d last seen her, though her plastic surgeon was doing a remarkable job at keeping her looking young. She tugged off her sunglasses and regarded Eva balefully.

“Evangeline. Funny meeting you here.”

Yes, funny meeting you on a road scarcely visited by tourists, in another county, in another fucking hemisphere.

“Life is funny sometimes,” Eva responded, a rasp in her voice.

Myra glanced behind Eva, and she could see the woman assessing Horacio, her upper lip curling.

“I see you’ve found yourself someone to clean up after you.”

She would not rise to the bait. She’d done that enough when she was fourteen. Eva was an adult and would act like one.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business. Not anymore.”

Myra glared, jaw ticking, “It is my business. It will always be my business. You killed my boy. And, here you are, eating lunch on a sunny afternoon while he rots.”

Eva took several deep breaths, trying to keep herself calm, “I moved on, Myra. You should, too.”

Pointing a finger at her, Myra growled, “It should have been you.”

A glint caught Eva’s eye and she glanced down to find that Myra was wearing her fucking wedding ring and engagement band on her first finger, the stones shining. The audacity of wearing the symbol of everything that had hurt her for seven long years broke something inside. She bared her teeth.

“No,” she spit, “You knew what he was. You raised him to be a disgusting, abusive prick. You watched him beat me after that dinner party and you did nothing! There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t fucking rejoice that I killed your psychopath of a son.”

The slap, when it came, was expected. Eva’s head whipped to the side and she heard the scratch of the chair as Horacio stood. Quickly, she held a hand up, silently begging him to stand down. She watched Myra watch him, her mouth smirking.

“Like mother, like son,” she said, taking a step away and wiping at her mouth. She wasn’t bleeding, but the skin was smarting.

Myra drew back, gripping her handbag.

Sneering, Eva simply said, “Go back to whatever you were doing. You’re not wanted, here.”

Myra’s scowl deepened for a moment, and then she was smiling the smile she used when she was dealing with a particularly distasteful dinner guest.

“Until next time.”

Eva watched her march down the street until she turned a corner, her blonde hair swinging behind her. She didn’t look back, and Eva didn’t know how she would react if she had. Her teeth hurt from clenching her jaw so hard.

Hands touched her shoulders in question. Eva reached up and covered them, sniffing back the tears.

“I want to go home.”

He was already moving, “I’ll get the check.”

#narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #A Need So Great

46 notes · View notes

ggukcangetit · 4 years ago

Text

Dreamcatchers 5

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Summary: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 3.7k

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | A/N: found a lovely group of people at bsh and their enthusiasm is infectious enough to get me to write a lot more than i had originally planned. reminding everyone that this story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing! additional note: the timeline at the end of the post is what i imagine yuri and jeongguk were constructing on the station’s white board in the last scene.

20th December

Seokjin was inside his bakery, getting ready to open in a little bit, when frantic knocking interrupted him. Checking his watch, he saw that it was 6.52 am, which meant that he had 8 minutes until opening. While people in this town were known to wake up at the crack of dawn, he had never had anyone knocking at his door before opening time. A second set of knocks - much louder this time - made him rush over to the front door.

"They've arrested Jimin on suspicion of murder."

Taehyung stood there looking more lost than he had ever seen him. Even more than when he had found Seokjin months after the latter had left home. Even more than when he had been given the responsibility of taking over the company. Taehyung, who struggled to wake up in time for 10 am meetings, was wide awake before the clock struck 7 and looked like he hadn't slept a wink the previous night.

"Did you run all the way here?" Seokjin asked. Taehyung's hair looked windswept and beads of perspiration lined his forehead despite it being the middle of winter.

"Why've they arrested him? He would never do something like that!"

"Come inside first. You'll catch a cold if you stay outside like this."

Once inside, Taehyung didn't look any less perturbed - his expressive eyes glistening with many different emotions. Seokjin brought out a cup of hot chocolate and a red bean bun, sitting down opposite his younger brother.

"Now, tell me what's going on."

"Jimin was arrested last night on suspicion of murder."

"Murder? You mean Eunwoo? They think Jimin had something to do with Eunwoo's death?"

Taehyung nodded his head, the initial rush of adrenaline having worn off, leaving him looking significantly more worn out.

"Do you know why? How did you even find out? Did Jimin tell you?"

"No. Ahreum did." Taehyung rubbed his face with his hands, trying to rid himself of the terrifying thoughts rushing through his mind. "She was there when Yuri - that's her friend who's also Jeongguk's new partner - made the call. There must be some mistake!"

Seokjin bit his lip worriedly. While Jimin had been Taehyung's best friend since they were little, there was no doubt that the former led a very wild life involving many questionable escapades. He didn't know much about Yuri, but there was no doubt in his mind that Jeongguk was a very competent detective who knew what he was doing.

"I don't know what I should do." Taehyung's voice, jolted him out of his thoughts. "I should go down to the station, shouldn't I? Jimin probably needs someone there with him. What about getting a lawyer? Should we ask Namjoon? I-"

"Slow down, Taehyung," Seokjin said, patting his brother's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sure Jimin's gotten a lawyer himself. His family has a lot of resources. But if you want, you can drop by the station in case he needs something."

"Y-yeah, I should do that. I'll go right now. I- Shit!" Taehyung patted his coat pockets frantically. "I can't find my car keys!"

"You didn't drive here," reminded Seokjin, gently. "Do you want me to drive you there?"

The bell hanging above the front door jingled softly at that moment, signalling Seokjin's first customer of the day.

"No, you shouldn’t leave your bakery. It would be bad for business." Taehyung shook his head, the helpless look in his eyes not leaving him despite his conviction to leave his brother out of this.

"Why don't you ask Ahreum if she can give you a lift? Isn't she usually up by this time?"

"You're right! I'll do that!"

Seokjin busied himself with the customer who had just come in, his eyes wandering towards his brother ever so often. Ahreum picked him up 15 minutes later, but Seokjin couldn't shake off the worried feeling he had gotten after seeing Taehyung so frantic and helpless.

...

Yuri had reached the station at 6 that morning. She hadn't slept last night, going through every inch of evidence and every statement they had taken related to Kang Eunwoo's murder. Her stomach had dropped when she had read the email from Seulgi last night. It wasn't that she was convinced that Jimin was a saint who had nothing to do with this, but the fact that he had finally decided to give a blood sample suggested either that he was innocent, or that he was guilty but somehow knew that he would be able to escape the charges. Both options did not bode well with her.

Jeon arrived around half past 6, the bags under his eyes suggesting that he had also had a sleepless night. He didn't say anything, just heading straight for his desk and pouring over a set of files like he had a final exam he was cramming for.

Chief Inspector Goh had spoken to both of them on a conference call last night once news of Jimin's arrest had been confirmed.

"Are we completely sure about this?" His voice hoarse, indicating that the call had disturbed his slumber.

"Yes, sir," Yuri replied, not waiting for her partner to chip in. She was the one who had received the email from Seulgi, she had been the one to convince Jimin for a blood sample - this was her line of inquiry. Which made her all the more nervous.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind either of you that the Parks are difficult customers. Young Mr. Park does not have a criminal record despite his many infractions over the years."

"We are aware, sir." Jeon answered this time, being more familiar with the social landscape than Yuri. "Everything will be carried out according to proper procedure."

"Good. Be prepared to deal with lawyers as well. I have a suspicion that that bastard Song will be representing the Park boy tomorrow. Jeongguk, I'm sure you're aware of his reputation and the kinds of clients he usually represents."

Yuri did not know about this particular lawyer, but made a note to look up his previous cases to get an understanding of what they were up against. She had no doubt that Jeon would be as unhelpful as he had been since she had first arrived.

"You can't start the interview before 8 am, but given that he was arrested just before midnight, we will have lost 8 precious hours out of the total 48 before we have to either charge him or release him on bail. Be clear, be smart, and do not allow anyone to string you along."

"Yes, sir." They both replied, before ending the call.

"Do you want to go over the interview strategy?"

Jeon's words took Yuri by surprise. She had been expecting a cold shoulder at best, and unfiltered hostility at worst.

"Y-yeah sure," she replied, turning her chair around to find that he had moved over to her side of the cubicle already.

"I think we should lead with the blood match," he continued, frowning at a sheet of paper. "What do you think?"

"While that is the most efficient way to approach it," said Yuri, pausing to organize her thoughts. "We could also press him to provide us with an alibi."

"Why'd you think that?"

Yuri tapped her fingers on the table, wondering how far she should try and explain her idea to Jeon. "I just... He was very uncooperative about providing an alibi last time. But then he came down and voluntarily gave a blood sample, which has put him in a much worse position than not providing an alibi. I don't know why he would refuse the low risk option in favor of the high risk one."

Jeon scoffed. "Well you clearly don't know Jimin then."

"Well obviously not like you lot do," she frowned, folding her arms across her chest.

"Don't get me wrong," he continued, leaning against the divider. "Your confusion is completely valid, but this behavior is very much in character for Jimin."

"How'd you mean?"

"He's a loose canon. He has no regard for authority - half of what he does is to piss off people in power or positions of authority. Jimin's always been like that as far as I can remember. But-" he paused and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly - "this is much more serious. This is murder."

Yuri pressed her lips together, wondering how difficult the interview was going to be.

8 am

"You are aware that you have been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Kang Eunwoo on 16th December."

Park Jimin looked very different from the previous few times Yuri had met him. His silver hair was devoid of any gel, making him look drastically younger. He was not wearing expensive lounge wear like he had been during the previous interview. The only thing that remained unchanged was the emotionless look in his cold grey eyes.

His lawyer, on the other hand, looked quite cheerful - smug even. As if he knew in advance that his client would get off without any charges no matter how serious the offense.

"When you were here a couple of days ago, we asked you where you were on the night of December 15th. And you did not provide us with an answer." Yuri paused, trying in vain to discern something from Jimin's expression. "So let me ask you again - where were you on the night of December 15th?"

"No comment."

"I must impress upon you the importance of this matter. You are the prime suspect in the murder of a rival family's heir. If you do not provide an alibi, we will be forced to assume that you do not have one."

Silence.

"Your blood was found on the victim's clothes." Jeon took over, moving along to the main line of inquiry. "What can you tell us about that?"

"No comment."

"The victim's father says that you visited their house on the night that the victim was murdered. What do you have to say about that?"

"No comment."

This was not going any better than the previous interview. In fact, Yuri thought this one was much worse. Even though they should have had the upper hand, Jimin's unperturbed, stoic expression indicated otherwise. The blood on the sleeve was enough to charge him, but with the Park family's resources there was always a chance that Jimin would be able to get off in court. Which was why they needed to build a stronger case against him.

Jeon continued persisting with the questions, receiving an emotionless "no comment" every time. The lawyer looked rather relaxed, and Yuri tried her best to avoid looking at him. Instead, she focused on Jimin. Everything about him was unreadable - his eyes, his body language, his face, his tone of voice. Despite his more casual appearance this time around, his fingers were still adorned with multiple rings. Her eyes lingered briefly on his hands, absentmindedly counting the number of rings when something struck her.

Jeon had paused to look through his notes, and Yuri took this opportunity to dive in.

"Mr. Park," she began, placing a hand on Jeon's knee to stop him from interrupting her. "I noticed that you always wear a lot of rings on your fingers."

"As far as I can remember, DI Choi," said Jimin's lawyer. "Wearing a lot of rings is not a criminal offense."

"And I commend you on your immaculate memory," she replied, dryly. "Getting back to what I was saying, you wear a lot of rings. Are they supposed to be a fashion statement? Or do they have some greater significance?"

Jimin's expression flickered for the briefest of moments.

"For example," she continued, indicating the ring on the little finger of his left hand. "That's an unusual design - quite old-fashioned compared to the rest of your rings. Is there anything special about that ring?"

"I don't understand how this is relev-"

"Then why don't you let your client answer himself."

For the first time since the interview had begun, Jimin's posture changed slightly. "That ring belonged to my mother."

"I see... that must hold a lot of emotions for you." Yuri removed her hand from Jeon's thigh, indicating that he could continue. He didn't say anything to her, preferring to hold eye-contact for a few meaningful seconds

"I'm going to ask you one last time," he said, taking over once again. "Where were you on the night of December 15th?"

"No comment."

...

"What was that about?" asked Jeon, once they were out of the interview room.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," he sighed in exasperation. "The ring, Choi."

"Just wanted to bring down his guard a bit," she shrugged.

He looked unconvinced, but dropped it seeing as they had more pressing things to deal with at the moment. Shaking his head, he went into Goh's room to update him on the outcome of the interview.

Making sure that the door to the Chief Inspector's room had been shut completely, Yuri switched on her laptop and pulled up every bit of information she had on Jimin. Even though she had gone over it less than 2 days ago, there were some things she needed to confirm. If what she thought was even remotely possible, they had been looking at things wrong the entire time.

"Hello? Telecoms Division? This DI Choi Yuri, badge number XXXX. I wanted to check whether this phone number is currently being used in Korea. Yes, I'll hold."

She tapped her fingers on the desk nervously, hoping she could get the information before Jeon came back. While it was true that he hadn't been openly hostile with her over the past 24 hours or so, she didn't want to risk pissing him off without something concrete.

"Yes, I'm still here," she breathed a sigh of relief when the person on the other end of the line took her off hold. "Really? Okay. And can you tell me if the number was being used overseas at any point in the past 2 months? I see... Would it be possible to send this to my official email? Great! Thank you very much for your help."

A couple of minutes later, Yuri's laptop pinged, indicating a new email. She read through everything carefully- once, twice, making sure she had gotten everything down accurately.

Fuck...

"Going somewhere?" Chief Inspector Goh walked out of his office to see Yuri putting on her coat and packing her bag.

"I- uh- yes."

"There's a lot of paperwork that has to be done, I'm afraid," he continued, checking messages on his phone. "You and Jeongguk will probably need to be here well past usual hours."

"Of course, sir." Yuri shrugged off her coat and sat down with a sigh.

6 pm

Seven hours. It had been seven hours since Yuri and Jeon had begun working their way through the piles of paperwork Goh had instructed them to finish.

"I'm hungry." Jeon stretched his arms above his head, yawning with his entire being. "Do you wanna get some takeout?"

"What?" Yuri looked up from the page she had been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes. Her eyes were glazing over with exhaustion.

"Food. Dinner. Sustenance."

"Y-yeah," Yuri blinked her eyes rapidly. "Sorry what were you saying?"

"You know what? Never mind. I'm just ordering a bunch of things- " He unlocked his phone and began typing away furiously. "Eat whatever you like from there."

Yuri gazed at him for a few moments, trying to reorient herself with the three dimensional world. She noticed that he was sitting on the swivel chair with his feet tucked beneath him - something oddly endearing which didn't really fit her image of him.

"I like dumplings," she said, more to herself than anyone else.

Jeon smirked but didn't say anything.

Half an hour later, a dozen or so takeout containers lay open in front of them - occupying more of Yuri's desk than Jeon's, much to her annoyance. He had rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, slurping the hot noodles rather noisily.

Yuri threw him a quick glare and reached over to pick up a couple of fried chicken pieces.

"So why'd you ask Jimin about the ring?"

"I see you haven't forgotten about that," Yuri rolled her eyes, biting into the juicy meat.

"It was too specific to be a random thought," he shrugged. "So, are you gonna tell me or...?"

"I don't know if I can trust you, Jeon," she replied, simply.

"W-what?" he spluttered on the noodles, gulping some water to stop choking. "I'm your partner! Why can't you trust me?"

"I don't know..." Yuri tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Is it because you only glared at me on my first day? Or is it because you haven't greeted me civilly even once since I joined? Ooh, I know! Maybe its all of these combined with the fact that you've been an uncooperative bastard since I got here."

Jeon stared at her guiltily, his eyes widening considerably - giving him an expression akin to a deer caught in the headlights. "You're right. I apologize for that."

"Against my better judgment, I'll accept your apology. But you have Yoongi to thank for that."

Jeon smiled into his noodles at the mention of Yoongi.

"You also have Yoongi to thank for what I did yesterday," she continued, setting down the empty container. "I nicked your 2nd Nov case file and went through it."

"You what? When?!"

Yuri waved her hand dismissively. "Details. Unimportant. Yoongi suggested I should and I did. But that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Anything else of mine you've nicked in the 5 days that you've been here?" grumbled Jeon, but there was no real bitterness in his tone.

Ignoring his comment, she pulled out her phone from the charging socket. "The reason I asked Jimin about his rings, is this -" she scrolled up to a particular picture and passed the phone over to him - "The ring found at the 2nd Nov crime scene is identical to the one Jimin wears on his left little finger."

"Are you sure...?" Jeon asked, raising an eyebrow uncertainly. "Even if it is, what's to say there aren't hundreds of other identical rings belonging to people across the country?"

"I did think that initially," Yuri took her phone back, and pulled up another image. "Which is why I asked Jimin about it during the interview. He said that it belonged to his mother. I'm sure you know this much better than I do but the late Mrs. Park came from a very old, distinguished family. That ring that Jimin was wearing is a family heirloom - from his mother's side. Here's an article that covered heirlooms of famous families in Korea, and it mentions the Park family."

Jeon took the phone from her, a frown forming on his face. The article was dated around 3 years ago.

"According to the article, there were three rings in total. One that belonged to Mrs. Park - which was buried with her after her death - and two others belonging to Jimin and his older brother Minhyuk. Not just that, there's a picture of Jimin and Minhyuk in the article, where they're both wearing the rings."

"Shit... You're right." Jeon pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "During the investigation, we just assumed that the ring belonged to the victim and had slipped off her finger during the struggle."

"Three rings," said Yuri. "One that has presumably been buried in a grave for over 10 years. One that was definitely on Jimin's finger today. And one that was found at the 2nd Nov crime scene."

"Minhyuk? You think he had something to do with it?" asked Jeon, sharply. "It was pretty clear that the drunk and homeless father of her child had stabbed her."

"Hear me out," she continued, opening her laptop this time. The food lay forgotten at this point. "I went through what we know about the victim - paints a pretty tragic picture. Although it wasn't always like that for her. She worked for a few years, saved up enough money before enrolling into a professional degree program at Busan National University."

"Yeah, so what?"

"Her time at Busan National University coincided with Park Minhyuk's Masters program."

"What?"

"Yeah, but," she continued, finding the university website. "She dropped out after less than a year because her father passed away, leaving behind a huge pile of debt. We know that her mother had passed away when she was about 10. Now if you look at her daughter's birth certificate, it would appear that she got pregnant while she was still enrolled at the university."

"Are you saying the baby was his?! There's a pretty big stretch from attended university at the same time to father of her child."

"Let me finish, would you?" she groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"Fine, go ahead."

"In order to see if they were acquainted with one another, I resorted to the most informative source available - social media. Our victim didn't have much of a social media presence, but I scrolled through anything and everything Park Minhyuk has been tagged in. And guess what I found?"

Jeon stopped eating, and moved closer to the screen to see a picture of a few university students having a picnic together. It was dated January 2016, and two of the people in the picture were recognizable immediately.

"Holy shit! They did know each other! And quite well apparently." Jeon wheeled his chair forward, bumping into her chair in the process. "Shit, sorry."

Yuri rolled her eyes and moved out of his way. She had no desire to get slammed into again.

"Since I'm not part of the original investigation, I thought of checking whether Park Minhyuk was in the country around the time of the stabbing with a different excuse. I called the company, asking if he was available to chat about Jimin. They said he's abroad at the moment. Has been since October, apparently. But- " she rummaged through the papers on her desk before finding the post-it she had hurriedly scribbled on a few hours ago - "Telecoms did an analysis and found that his cell phone has been operating in Korea for a while now. So...?"

"Either someone else has gotten a hold of Park Minhyuk's cell phone," said Jeon, frowning thoughtfully. "Or the Parks are knee-deep in murder and perjury."

XXX

a/n: sorry there was such a huge delay between chapters. i was writing out some of the chapters beforehand so that there wouldn’t be too many plot inconsistencies.

#c me write bangtan #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook #hoseok #yoongi #namjoon #taehyung #seokjin #btsbookclub #bts fic

63 notes · View notes

thestarwrites · 4 years ago

Text

A Different Time, a Different Place Ch.4

[text:Sunflower] 3:45pm- oh please baby please let me know if you’re okay. I saw on the news that nana is dead- I know what she meant to you but please- you mean everything to me. I need to know. Please... please if you’re alive answer me.

He was taking a break from training with Gran Torino at UA when he heard his phone buzz from his bag. Guilt dropped in his stomach as he knew who it was. The woman he loved. That he’d been avoiding in his grief and rage. Was that fair to her? He loved her. Nana told him to keep going. She used to support his relationship. He’d been avoiding her for five days.

Finally he read the newest message and couldn’t help but respond. She was worried sick- how could he not put her at ease?

[text: Toshi] 3:50pm- Hey. I’m alright. Well I’m not alright but- I’m alive.

[text: Sunflower]3:50pm- TOSHI!!! Oh my god- oh thank god you’re alright. I’ve been worried sick!

[text: Toshi] 3:51pm- I know I’m sorry.

[text: Sunflower] 3:51pm- no no, don’t be sorry baby- I’m not mad. I can’t believe how you must be feeling. I’m just so happy you’re alive. I’m so sorry about nana.

[text: Toshi] 4:05pm- I miss you.

That message broke Keri’s heart and she began to cry sitting at her bed at home. Desperately wiping her eyes she sniffed.

[text: Sunflower] 4:07pm- I miss you too. Come over tonight? Please?

He knew he shouldn’t. All for One will surely be looking for him. And he would be putting her in danger. But after everything he was feeling so lonely, so sad, so angry. He wanted to see her. He loved her didn’t he? He couldn’t abandon her like this.

[text: Toshi] 4:10pm- Okay. I’ll come by your place tonight- 9 too late?

Letting out a soft sob, she cupped her mouth and smiled.

[text: Sunflower] 4:10pm- it’s never too late for me to see your handsome face, my hero.

Toshinori smiled a little for the first time in days.

[text: Toshi] 4:12pm- I’ll see you later then sunflower. I love you.

[text: Sunflower] 4:12pm- I love you Toshi.

He stood, ready to face Gran Torino again.

--------

After training the older man spoke, “I’ve been making arrangements for immediately after graduation.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“When you graduate in a few weeks, you will go to America.”

“What?! No! I have to find All for One! I have to avenge Nana!”

Gran Torino grabbed his collar, “You have the raw power but you have no experience Toshinori! No skills in the field or for strategy!” He huffed, “You have to go where no one knows you are, where All for One can’t find you. And work to become the symbol of peace.”

“Gran Torino I can’t just leave!”

“Yes you can. You’ll leave and you’ll study abroad for a few years.”

“A-a few years?”

The man nodded, “Toshinori. No one can know.” He gave him a look.

His eyes widened as he came to the realization, “Keri-“

“No one. Can know.”

“No! No, sir! Please! She’s all I have! Let- let her come with me! No one will have to know where we went!”

He shook his head, “First of all, you can’t devote yourself to hero work if you’re worried about a girl. Second of all she has parents, who will notice if she disappears. I also found out she has already been accepted to a prestigious university for psychology.” He sighed, “Not to mention it will make her a bigger target, being with you while you’re in hiding.”

“So what you’re telling me is I can’t even say I’m leaving.”

“No.”

He clenched his fists, tears welling in her eyes, “I have to abandon her...”

“It’s for her own safety, and yours. You are the future, you are the hope of this world. This is why I didn’t want to encourage this relationship.”

“Nana said heroes have time for a life!” He wiped his eyes.

“And look what happened! Now nana’s husband and son are left without her and we can’t even do anything for them! She forbid us.” He sighed, “When you come back to japan I don’t care what you do, but until then I am your teacher and you will follow what I say!”

He looked down at the ground, tears running down his face, “Yes, sir.”

------

Keri waited for him outside on her balcony, knowing he would want to sneak in, as he sometimes did at night. His gigantic red hoodie wrapped around her for warmth in the cool early spring air. As she started to drift off in her little chair she heard her name.

“Keri... honey wake up, I’m here.”

Her eyes opened and she immediately started to cry, “Toshi... this better not be a dream-“

He pulled her by her hand and held her close to him, tears falling down his own cheeks, “Its not sunflower, I’m here- I’m here for real.” His heart was breaking. He already lost the woman he considered as his own mother, and now he would lose the love of his life.

“Oh Toshinori!” She jumped up and hugged around his neck, sniffling and kissing his cheek. He held her to him, “I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry about what happened...” she could feel his heartache. It was deafening.

He sank to his knees and cried now that he was in his safe place- her arms. He would have to commit all of her to memory. Every inch of her. The smell of her. The feeling of her in his arms.

Lifting his head up she kissed him softly and he pushed into the kiss, passionately pouring himself into her. It was partly to chase his grief and anger away, and partly because he didn’t want to let her go. They kissed until they were both breathless and had to break for air. She looked so beautiful, pupils blown, lips puffy and kiss swollen, eyes shining. Cupping her cheek he managed a small smile.

“Come into my room...” she sighed softly, standing and pulling his hand.

“Eh-what?” He blushed. He had only ever been in her bedroom a few times they had snuck in to cuddle or do some other questionable things, “Keri-“

“Toshi... I need you.”

He swallowed. She didn’t need to say anything else, he nodded and picked her up, heading back into her room from the balcony and sitting her gingerly on the bed. He pulled off his shirt and she discarded the hoodie, pulling her own shirt off with it.

Moving forward he crashed his lips into hers, pushing her gently down on the bed, doing his best to be quiet as he kicked off his sneakers. Pawing at his belt, the girl bit his bottom lip gently. He moaned softly and looked down at her- the hickey from five days ago still barely visible. He felt a tear roll down his cheek- five days ago when the world was beautiful and everything was perfect.

She pulled off her bra and leaned forward to kiss him again, her thumb wiping some of his tears away as she shed a few of her own. He pulled away momentarily to stand up and pull off her soft PJ pants and shed his own. Both bare to each other, physically and emotionally, he got back on top of her. He kissed the hickey and whispered, “I love you, Keri.”

“I love you too Toshinori...” she cooed as she lifted a leg around his waist. The man leaned forward, kissing her passionately as he slowly entered her, the only woman he’d ever been with like this, she felt like home.

The two of them quietly and passionately made love in her bedroom before climaxing together, tears in both of their eyes.

Toshinori hovered above her, panting and looking into her eyes, “You’re so beautiful... god I’ll never forget how you make me feel.”

She blushed and leaned up, kissing him again, “Want me to set an alarm and you can sleep in here with me until morning?”

He knew he should say no. He should start the process of pulling away. Being too busy, being unavailable. Preparing her for the day he would leave her life. But looking into those blue eyes, how could he refuse. He was so tired, physically and emotionally. Taking a deep breath he nodded, “I’d love that... here- let me get you some panties, and you can sleep in my shirt.”

Smiling she sighed, at the loss of him between her legs as he got up to go to her dresser. She picked up his black T-shirt and pulled it over her head. Kneeling before her he slid the panties over her plush thighs, leaning down to press kisses over them gingerly, “You’re so good to me...”

He smiled and pulled his boxer briefs back on before crawling into her bed, “We’ve never actually spent the night together.”

“It’ll be our first,” she kissed his jaw, yawning, “First of many.”

She was so wrong and she didn’t even know it.

“Toshi- I didn’t get to tell you! I got into the school I applied to...”

He tried to look excited, even though he already knew, “Oh sunflower I’m so proud of you.” He kissed her softly.

“Now don’t forget, after graduation you have to work on getting your own agency!”

“H-huh?” He felt caught off guard.

“Remember our deal? You become a top hero with an agency and I’ll come work for you.” She gave him a smell smile.

“Oh- oh right- yes, yes of course.” He kissed her head, settling back down, “You know all I ever want to do is make the world safe for you, right?”

“Yes mister symbol of peace.” She smiled softly, closing her eyes.

“And you know I’d only ever do what was best for you?”

She felt a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she wanted to ignore it for now, “Of course.” She rubbed his chest, “Close your eyes and rest, baby, you’ve had a horrible week.”

He sighed and cuddled into her, holding her as the little spoon, “goodnight, honey...”

“Goodnight my hero.”

#all might x reader #all might x oc #all right all might au #young all might

11 notes · View notes

spacecadetal · 4 years ago

Text

bait (1/3)

kakashi hatake x fem!reader

summary: after years of hinting and nudging your friend, kakashi, to take you out on a date, he just doesnt get it. but its okay, looks like someone else wants to take you out instead warnings: alcohol use, mentions of violence, mentions of injury, mentions of scar word count: 1923 part one - part two - part three / ao3 authors notes: howdy, i felt like writing a little something something. we got jealous kakashi and hes a little bit of an asshole about it but anywho... this is a three parter and its also been uploaded to ao3 so enjoy

You huffed and puffed as the cold canteen touched your lips, eternally grateful for the water you were pouring down your throat with one mighty scull. Wiping the sweat from your brow, a smile formed on your lips.

“Phew, you really got me there” you laughed, your breathing still erratic as your pulse began to slow down.

“That’s because you’re easily distracted,” Kakashi teased, cooling off under a tree.

“I am not!” you protested through your laughter.

Sparring with Kakashi was always a great way to stay in shape. Always testing your limits and then some. Over the years you had your victories but Kakashi had more of them, still that didn’t deter you from bringing it your all when in friendly combat.

The sun was high in the sky with no clouds to protect from it’s fiery beams. You stood with your hands on your hips, the training grounds behind you a vast field of trimmed green grass surrounded by towering oak trees. Kakashi always knew the best spots to train, the places no one thought to go.

Kakashi wasted no time pulling out his novel, one knee bent while his other leg lay flat against the grass. Collected as if he hadn’t just sparred with you for an hour straight. “What about that escort mission from the Land of Stone?” he asked coolly, his eye scanning the pages in his hand.

“You don’t just get to see a baby boar every day” you defended. It’s not like there was any danger lurking around but you did linger there for far too long. Long enough for Kakashi to come along and pull you away before mama boar could come back and charge at your group.

“Alright then, what about the bandit camp at the border?”

Ah, that was a long time ago. Three years to be exact. Those pesky bandits kept you on your toes, that’s for sure. Two on one with only your kunai and a couple of shuriken to aid you. A flying kunai landed in your back near your shoulder blade, catching you off guard only for Kakashi to swoop in and fend the third bandit off for you.

“I thought someone had my back.” you said, eyebrows raised though he still was not looking your way, nose still in his erotic fiction. That kunai had really hurt, you still had a scar. “Anyways, are you coming?”

Wordlessly, Kakashi snapped his book shut. Trading his shady spot under the tree for a spot next to your side in the sun. Walking back to the village along the dirt path, you engaged in your usual chatter. Mostly a stream of your thoughts entering your brain and exiting out of your mouth while Kakashi hummed and nodded. Years of friendship and he didn’t mind your rambling nor did he think you were annoying (well, he hadn’t expressed it anyway), it was good. Kakashi could be a man of few words when he wanted to be but you had more than enough for the both of you.

“Any plans for tonight?” Kakashi asked out of the blue, finally glancing up from his book.

Heat gently started to rise to your cheeks but not enough to give yourself away. A part of you hoped this was going to be a lead in for him to make plans with you.

“Oh…no not really.” you said, eyes shifting from side to side. “I mean…I kinda wanna try out that new restaurant...”

Hint, hint! Nudge, nudge! With a lingering side eye in his direction, you tried to catch his reaction. The slightest change in his brow or a twitch of his lips hidden behind fabric. However Kakashi seemed unfazed, flipping the page of his book as he walked along. “Why don’t you?”

Okay, so maybe you need to lay it on a little thicker. Say no more.

“It’s kind of a place for two, if you know what I’m saying…” you said, your head tilted towards him.

Finally Kakashi lowered his book, his head turned to you. He must have finally gotten the hint, your eyes widened in hope. It was silent between you for a moment, and your expression told him you were expecting something, perhaps for your daydreams to finally come true. “Oh well, maybe one day you’ll have someone to go with”

Seriously? ‘You! I want to go with you!’ you wanted to scream but you composed yourself like you usually did. A heavy breath left your nostrils as you tried to keep your head high. Okay, one more try.

“Yeah, like on a date. I think that would be really great, super cool actually, if someone that I really liked would take me there...on a date...romantically”

That was obvious as you could make it without outright saying it.

“Sounds okay, I guess” Kakashi said, shrugging as he considered it for a second.

Bubble burst. For someone who was excellent at strategy, formed his own jutsu, and knows a thousand others, this man had a thick skull. Was he truly oblivious to your hints? They weren’t exactly microscopic, more like a billboard with bright flashing lights around the border. Date me! Take me out on a date! For the love of all that is good in this forsaken world! Sure, you were your own woman. You could easily ask him yourself but it was more romantic to have him ask you. You loved that stuff. Flowers, romantic dinners, walking under the moonlight. There was nothing better than a chivalrous gentleman.

You had some inkling he might feel the same. Kakashi was a master of subtlety. His hands would gently come down on your waist when he squeezed past you, lingering there for a second too long. When sparing, he often pinned you down. Straddling you as he smiled with his eye, sometimes he’d stay there for an extra couple of minutes despite your protests. His fingers would brush against yours while you walked side by side. Normally you didn’t react and figured it was accidental even with your cheeks turning the colour of strawberries; Kakashi never let it be, pointing it out and bringing attention to it. Apologising profusely. Maybe you were too in your head about it. Taking every little gesture to heart because you desperately wanted him to feel the same too but you weren’t exactly foolish either.

Another day, another attempt of dropping hints with nothing to show for it. Used to the disappointment, you accepted defeat the moment you stepped back into the bustling village streets. Mid afternoon and it was as busy as it normally was. Kids running around the streets, kicking balls and chasing each other. Women walking with their friends to teahouses for a pot of jasmine tea and gossip. Folks walking home from the market struggling to hold the heavy bags in their hands. The two of you wandered around without aim or purpose before Kakashi led you to the bookstore. The man had too many books as it was and yet he was going to buy another, not that you mind being dragged there. Kakashi had disappeared into a small, hidden corner of the bookstore where erotic fiction was stocked while you were browsing through cookbooks by the front of the store. Fingertips flicking through pages trying to find something good to make.

Kakashi was right, you were easily distracted. Recipes using cod and cabbage had taken up all of your focus, leaving you unaware of the person standing next to you on your right. Head turned to you as if they were waiting for your head to pop up and notice them. It wasn’t going to happen, you were too engrossed in the instructions of ‘remove the bones and place them to the side for the broth’, so they cleared their throat loudly.

That captured your attention, instantly your head snapped in their direction.

“(Y/N)” Tanoshī said with a kind smile, giving you a little wave with one hand as the other held some random cookbook he had picked up in front of him.

At first you were alarmed by the sudden sound but upon realising who was beside you, you instantly relaxed. Eyes and lips softening from a frown to a smile. Tanoshī was someone you had missions with occasionally, friendly towards everyone he encountered. You weren’t exactly close but when you did notice him, you would smile and wave.

“Oh, hey! What’s up?” You asked, happy to bump into him like you usually were.

“Sorry to spring this on you but, uh, did you want to go out tonight? I really wanna try out that new place and you were the first person I thought of. It could be, ah, like a date, maybe?” He asked, his fingers flipped through pages yet his dark eyes were locked onto you. Scanning for the slightest change in your expression to hint at some impending rejection.

“A date?” You asked, surprised at the offer.

You were glistening with sweat, bare arms covered in streaks of dry dirt and scratches, stray hairs sticking to your face and in various directions. Not exactly in an attractive state to be asked out, maybe that’s why Kakashi didn’t. Yet Tanoshī was standing beside you asking you out and you actually felt quite flattered.

While you reflected on how flattered you truly felt, Tanoshī’s eyes darted about, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah! I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t-“

“That sounds great actually! I would love to do that! Did you want to meet outside there at eight?” You interrupted him, happily accepting his offer.

It had been so long since you had been on a date. Even if it didn’t go anywhere you had an intense craving for romantic attention. Needing to feel some connection between people that made you appreciate the little things in life. If someone wanted to take you out, of course you were going to go. Besides it’s not like Kakashi is going to be asking you out any time soon, your hints hadn’t exactly been working in your favour. But who knows, maybe Kakashi might catch wind of it. Better yet, he might get jealous; you highly doubted it though.

Tanoshī had told you that eight worked for him and smiled brightly as he left the store with a wave in your direction. Clumsily you placed the book back on the shelf, eyes on Tanoshī as he walked down the street through the large store window. A smile of your own gently on your lips, someone really asked you out. It was quite flattering. You were about to tear your eyes away when you felt a presence behind you. “Sounds like you have someone to go with after all”

When your head whipped around to meet Kakashi, you noticed he held a new book in his hand. One that wasn’t part of the Make-Out Paradise series, briefly you glanced at it but paid it no mind. Instead you were focused on the fact you had a date.

“It sure does!” your smile was wide but internally you were frowning. Wanting to whack him around the head and scream: it should be you taking me there!

“Anyways, it looks like I have a date to get ready for” Your eyebrows wriggled around and Kakashi reacted as he usually did. One eyebrow raised in silence. With that you were walking out the door, a mini salute in Kakashi’s direction as you pulled the door wide open.

#kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x reader #kakashi fic #kakashi imagine #my fic #f #fic #sgdkjshgjkhs okay i wrote this bc ive had terible writers block #so hopefully it gets me out of that rut you know #bc a bitch been stumped

6 notes · View notes

unwiltingblossom · 5 years ago

Text

Queen’s Favor (Mysme Jumin/MC AU 6/?)

Summary: Being a maid would be much easier if the cat would just let her do her job.

AU - Instead of joining the RFA via random text, MC is hired on as one of the maids assigned to Jumin Han’s penthouse. Nothing else about the setting has changed, the messenger and the RFA still exist, only the MC’s position has been altered.

'No, I'm not wandering your penthouse naked. That's not what I do normally. Normal people don't do that, and I am a normal person.'

In the end, she made it through the night without being smothered to death by a cat, even though she accidentally fell asleep on the couch at some point. The sound of the door clicking open stirred her awake, and she shot up from where she'd sprawled out on the couch with enough speed that it was for the best Elizabeth hadn't decided to climb on her in the night.

"M'awake! I was on break!"

The blonde, bespectacled woman standing in the doorway blinked owlishly at her. That. Wasn't the owner of the penthouse.

Ah. And she also wasn't on break. As the fog and disorientation of the morning faded from her mind, knowledge of where she was (and why) drifted back to her. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and shook her head. "...Sorry...force of habit."

The look on the woman's face spoke of assumptions she really should clear up. She was, however, much too groggy for that.

Tomorrow. She'd explain it tomorrow.

Most of the instructions were pedantic, some were ridiculous, and a few of them were patently impossible. Thus, she treated Elizabeth the way she'd treated just about any other cat. As she did all the time, really, sans shooing. So far, she hadn't gotten any complaints from the cat, so she considered her job done well so far. Barring some lonely nights - maybe she'd leave the TV on or something, and definitely use the guest bed this time - it wouldn't be terrible to get paid five times the ludicrous amount she was already paid for a three day stint playing with a cat and not worrying about the cat hair.

She stretched as she looked out the window. Dawn barely colored the horizon that showed nary a bump from the other buildings in the city from the height of the penthouse. Whatever schedule he had for her replacement, she couldn't help wondering if the unusually early hour was some kind of slight against her, like a pre-emptive assumption her peasant-self would ruin the place living in it.

Well. She was a maid, not a peasant.

And this maid was definitely going to take advantage of the shower she'd cleaned so many times. Not the master one, as the blonde had (foolishly) decided to start off in the master bedroom, and first impressions had already built enough unpleasant assumptions without adding to them. In the end, though, it didn't really matter. The guest bathroom might have looked slightly less extra, but the shower and various soaps inside worked just as well.

She'd never experienced luxury in the form of a shower before. These days left watching the penthouse might just ruin her for ordinary, normal showers that rained down hard droplets of water on her and expected her to move around to clean herself.

No, but really. The shower gave her a massage. From every direction. And it sprayed a rainbow all around her for no other reason than to be pretty while it did it.

She'd never experienced anything that made her feel so much like a pleb while also making her feel so good before. It had been a mistake to miss out on using this shower her first day.

Stepping out of the shower, she couldn't help the odd urge to want to wave it farewell. Or maybe to take a glass of wine. She did neither, though, because the first important thing...was that she hadn't slept in the guest bedroom as she'd planned, so she didn't get the chance to grab a change of clothes from her bag of supplies before jumping into the shower.

Oh well. She sighed and wrapped a very oversized, downright ridiculously soft towel around herself and gave a little twirl in the full length, angled mirror in the bathroom. Honestly, it was thick and heavy enough to be an outfit itself if she just got a pin or something else more permanent to keep it from slipping through the day playing with Elizabeth. And besides that, maids have seen way more harrowing things than their female coworker in a towel. Even if her replacement happened to be in her neck of the penthouse, it wouldn't be a problem.

She did make extra sure her feet were dry before leaving the room, though. Even if it wasn't her responsibility right now, she couldn't bear tracking wet footprints across floors as expensive as these. Or the rug she'd grown fond of.

She stretched, popping her back a bit, as she made her way across the still quiet penthouse. Dawn colored the front room an apricot pink as the sun finally began to shake off its night-time grogginess, and she took a moment to appreciate the rare view. Normally when she showed up here, it was long after the owner had gone off to work - and thus, naturally past sunrise.

"What a waste, having the couch pointed away from the window."

The rattling of the front door cut through her thoughts, and she spun on her heel, hand immediately going to her chest. 'No, I'm not wandering your penthouse naked. That's not what I do normally. Normal people don't do that, and I am a normal person. You don't have secret cameras set up so you could plan this, right?' No, strike that. That last bit didn't need to be there if the owner of--

Oh.

A young brunette popped her head into the penthouse - gaze quickly scanning for the owner, likely, before falling on her. "Oh! Hey." It was Mina. One of the more seasoned workers in the definitely-not-a-company she, an independent contractor, definitely didn't work for.

Early maid service and two? Now, come on. Just what did that Mr. Han think of her?!

"Are you training the other girl? She got here about an hour ago." Admittedly, if the girl still hadn't left that bedroom after an hour, she probably needed the training. Were she actually working on a timer, that kind of a slow pace wouldn't work out for her at all.

Mina frowned in confusion, lips pursed. "Other girl? I wasn't told about anyone like that."

Wait...

what?

Mina didn't seem to be joking, looking genuinely bewildered. But there was definitely a girl who came in earlier. And that girl definitely hadn't left the master bedroom yet.

Cold dread seeped through the pleasant warmth left from the shower's magical watery fingers. No sounds came from that room. That room which had a whole treasury of valuables not all that well hidden away and a safe with...who-knew-what in it. She broke out into a run - a mad dash - toward the bedroom.

Okay, so in fairness, she was taking care of the cat, not the family jewels or whatever he stored away in there. But she sure as hell wouldn't be getting a positive recc for her next job if she let her boss get robbed while she was right there. Even if the jewel thief probably wouldn't do anything to Elizabeth.

She crashed through the bedroom door, skidding on the floor.

The maid froze, sitting on her knees on the bed. Biting Elizabeth's ear.

really?

Adrenaline pumped harder than her heart in her ears. It was, maybe, a calculated risk to take, but...she charged.

"Oh no!" The 'maid' shrieked and, fortunately, dropped the cat (who skittered immediately off of the bed and away from her attacker) a few moments before her body collided with the bespectacled cat-napper. For a few moments, the world blurred. Blonde hair flew through the air, limbs tangled and spun, and she landed quite unpleasantly on the cold, hard floor of the bedroom. With another spectacular crash.

All the pains that the shower had hushed away rose up in a familiar, angry chorus.

The 'maid', now bereft of her blonde wig and with her (actually now that she thought about it, totally out of place) dress askew, was very clearly that same red-haired man from before. The very reason she was so sore now. Again. The hands at his arms gripped with renewed strength. And a bit of anger.

"You."

He blinked down at her a moment, as if he didn't actually recognize her - a fact she'd be less offended by if she weren't currently in pain and being crushed by his bony knee and arm right then - before his eyes widened. "Ninja maid! I didn't recognize you without any clothes on!"

A man in a disguise had no place to say something like that.

Also....right. She did forget about the towel thing there in the heat of the moment. The reminder caused her cheeks to heat and more than a few indignant squawks to escape her throat.

"Hey...don't take this the wrong way, but--" His hand snapped down to yank at her carefully tied knot, undoing the precariously positioned towel. Instinctively, her hands flew up to the knot.

Clearly according to plan, the man immediately took advantage of his new freedom by shooting off of her...and in the direction the cat had run off toward.

Sly.

Very sly.

As incompetent as he appeared to be at first glance (and...second), he'd come up with a strategy pretty quickly there, leaving a poor, innocent girl like her to choose between preserving her modesty and preserving the source of her money.

Honestly, it wasn't even a choice.

The wet towel wrapped around his ankle in a way she wanted to attribute to watching many a martial arts movie to, but was probably just blind luck. The fact that it actually succeeded in causing him to crash face-first into the ground probably had more to do with his attempt to run in killer stilettos than any kind of skill on her part, though.

As if she'd let a little thing like modesty stand in the way of her and another day with that shower.

She felt pretty awesome though, standing over his sprawled out form, gripping the twisted towel in both of her hands. Sort of like the ninja maid he'd characterized her as. For all of two seconds, before she remembered the nakedness. True, his face hadn't even attempted to move from staring at the immaculate floorboards underneath him, but even if Mina hadn't run out of the penthouse from the first scream (she definitely had), a situation like this could turn sour really, really quickly.

"If you even try to look, I'll tie you down and choke you to death on Elizabeth's stray hairs."

...Okay...so mental note: don't go with the first threat that comes to mind in the future.

"I-I mean, that isn't really a dealbreaker, but I won't move!" He honestly sounded a little condescending that time. Which was impressive, with his face pressed into the ground and his maid dress shucked up to show off...space shuttle underwear. "I'm not a pervert!"

"...Right."

"That's hurtful."

All of her clothes were on the other side of the building. Any attempt to get them would just mean his escape, but if she stayed put, even if Mina did call the security guards...she'd be the talk of the entire complex, being caught naked in the owner's bedroom, pinning down a man in a maid dress with her foot.

She sighed, releasing one end of the towel. Her foot remained planted very firmly on the back of his head, though, so if he tried anything...at least she'd break his glasses in the process of being bowled over. Given that he'd dressed kind of like a hobo last time she'd seen him, that might mean he couldn't afford just to replace them casually enough to try anything under those circumstances.

Anyway, she quickly redid the knot on the towel, and moved back a step, just to keep any wayward glances away. "If you go for the cat again, I know exactly where the taser is in this room, and I will not turn it off until the guards arrive." There. Better.

"...Geez. I didn't expect the villain to hire a prison guard for Elly while he was gone." He said that to the floor. Apparently he was still taking her earlier threat seriously? Or maybe he just wanted to stay put.

She walked around him, so that if he did try to make another dash after all he'd have to get through her first, and squatted--no, knelt. Must be mindful. She knelt down in front of him, watching him with an incredulous look. "You know that you can just buy your own cat, right?"

"ELLY ISN'T JUST ANY CAT!" His face shot up - as if he just knew it was safe to do so then. Or he was so passionate about the damn cat that he didn't mind risking his own death. "WHAT WE HAVE IS SOMETHING SPECIAL. I can't just replace her like that! And also, I'm not allowed to own a cat."

"I wonder why."

Okay, but really. Elizabeth the 3rd was a beautiful, friendly cat with an uncanny intelligence and a secret sadistic streak both wide and deep enough to drown a man in. But two men both seemed convinced she was literally a princess. In their own...special...ways. What she wouldn't give to have a couple of (moderately attractive, if she had to admit it) men so obsessed with her.

His lips pressed into a frown as he pushed himself up from the floor, mimicking her position. She tensed, ready to move if he sprung into action again. "It's not fair if he went and left her with a protector."

She squinted at him. "'Protector'? Didn't you say something about saving her?"

He pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting the dim light of the room, from where dawn filtered in through the open door. "Of course! I'm Hero Seven! Here to liberate the fair princess Elly from her evil captor." He leaned in a bit and winked. "You're the stoic but wily guard determined to keep her captive while the overlord is away."

"...So you're a crazy person."

He clutched his chest over the crumpled dress. "Ow."

She sighed and stood up, crossing her arms. "Look here, 'Hero'. This gig is really, really well paying, so I don't care if you're actually this eccentric owner's friend somehow. If you go for that cat one more time this weekend, I'm calling the cops and you can stay in jail until he comes home and bails you out."

He winced. "So harsh. Is the money truly worth such cruel behavior towa--"

"The only cruelty is your animal cruelty."

"Your words hurt more than your ninja attacks!"

"Anyway." She waved her hand, just...cutting through that nonsense. "You probably spooked Mina so hard she ran away and didn't call anyone. Since I now have to do a bunch of cleaning instead of her - that I'm not getting paid for - I don't have time to deal with the guards or calling up Mr. Han to explain to him that you broke in again. Get out of here and don't come back while I'm here and I'll let this one go."

He shot up, hands reaching for her shoulders. For just a moment, her heart skipped a beat in panic, hands moving up to grip his wrists in defense. Instead of some kind of crazed or aggressive expression, though, what looked disturbingly like genuine tears shone in his eyes. "Ah! So you are a ninja with a heart! I owe you my life! As will Princess Elly, one day!"

He provided her no opportunity to respond, turning and sprinting out of the room. Only the fact that he glanced over his shoulder, waved and gave a little "Another time~!" kept her from chasing after him - just in case.

The door slammed shut a few moments later, and a slightly frazzled cat peeked her head into the doorway.

She planted one hand on her hip, and with the other she pointed as sternly as she could manage down at the little terror. "....You're going to get me killed, aren't you?"

Elizabeth mewed.

#mysme #mystic messenger #707 #jumin han x mc #mysme fic #ooc #fic #I know people like this on ao3 but I dunno if people follow this on tumblr

13 notes · View notes

bubmyg · 6 years ago

Text

game, set, love - jhs

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre/warnings: tennis!au, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst (w a hopeful ending), some humor because seokjin is in it, grumpy tennis instructor namjoon is here too, mentions of injuries, lots of tennis terminology (sorry)

word count: 13,466

summary: you like to be on the opposing side of the net from jung hoseok so when you drill a forehand volley through his teeth it can be considered kind of an accident or where seokjin just had to go and tear his ACL.

There’s a specific sound associated with that of a good, great, volley, the satisfying thwack of the thin fibers of the ball smacking against the spaces in your strings, rebounding off the surface and ricocheting into the thin space of the alley. It’s easy to imagine catching the angle instead, aiming the ball for the box just on the other side of the net, nearly impossible for the opponent to sprint to even if they catch the way your body angles.

It’s a more complex shot anyway, the angle and trajectory and the pronation of your wrist just right so the ball doesn’t catch on the frame of your racket and sail out. Cross court is the safer shot. It’s not even cross court, not really, not in the same way a forehand is from your partner. The safe shot is to aim at the other net player, their feet to be exact.

But Namjoon wouldn’t ever tell you to aim at another player and he definitely wouldn’t encourage your favorite net strategy.

Imagine every hanging ball at the net is Jung Hoseok’s face.

“Again,” There was a mechanical whir and the ball machine at the baseline rumbled to life at the hands of Namjoon. He’d emptied another basket of balls into the top, shifting them around with the head of his racket as he waited for the first one to spit back out. “Hit your target areas or I’ll put you on court five and make you do it throughout Seokjin’s session.”

You leaned into a backhand volley, making it spin when it landed. “Noted.”

Another basket of balls and Namjoon was satisfied enough to let you switch sides, nearly tripping into the ball machine cord as he rolled it aside. Your arm had just begun to ache on your third basket, neon yellow littered in a sea around your trainer’s feet, when the door to the courts of the complex slammed shut.

You were distracted by the wave of Namjoon’s arm as he began to nudge through balls toward your side of the net and the incoming ball caught on the neck of your racket, dribbling sadly down your side of the net. You hit the next one properly for the sake of Namjoon’s knowing glance at you, a single cocked eyebrow letting you know he was still watching even if he’d nearly rolled his ankle on your most recently hit ball. There was a flash of yellow in your peripheral, not a stray ball from one of the courts over the mesh nets that separated them, and you gaped as you lost your stance.

Hoseok was looking directly at you as he shrugged himself out of the massive bag perched over his shoulders, dropping it rather unceremoniously to the bench between courts. He was every shade of yellow, sweatbands, slick t-shirt, the stripe down the sides of his shorts, the laces on his white shoes, the headband peeling back faded blonde hair, like he’d just stepped out of an athletic magazine for pretentious assholes who thought the sport was all about the matching clothes. A smirk twitched at his lips as the clinking of rackets in his bag sent your water jug toppling to the ground.

Your racket clutched at your torso was the only thing keeping the next ball that fired out from smacking into your chest and you huffed, halfheartedly swinging to catch the next ball on your strings instead of on the handle.

“If you’re done, go turn it off and start picking up.”

You glared at Namjoon because why the fuck is Hoseok here? but that question didn’t come out, instead a sickly sweet, “Am I done?” as you jerked your racket to hit another sloppy but angry ball onto the other side of the net.

“You’re done. Pick up.”

You snatched an empty hopper en route to dodge another shot that barreled from the machine without someone on the other side of the net to intercept it. You only managed to collect three balls before you made it to the small black box, flicking it off and silencing the courts into the chatter of the two individuals on your court. A dent was barely made in the sea of balls surrounding the opposite end of the court but you only wanted enough out of the way to make a path for Namjoon and Hoseok, approaching with the half full hopper bouncing against your thigh and your racket tucked underneath your arm.

“What’s next, coach?” You pointedly dropped the hopper, crouching to snatch up your water jug from where it’d tumbled just in front of Hoseok’s shoe. He nudged it toward you and you resisted the urge to pop the lid and let ice water spill through into his socks.

“I’m going to have Hoseok take some serves for a little while…”

He had two crooked fingers in parted bangs, brushing them aside the elastic of his headband and he smirked when you quipped, “I meant for me seeing as this is my training session…”

“Relax,” Namjoon glanced between the two of you, “You’ve got twenty minutes to deal with being in the same general proximity. I think you can handle it.”

“Twenty minutes?” One of Hoseok’s dark eyebrows nudged underneath the seam of neon green on his forehead, “Tapping out early? I get it, conditioning has never been your forte—”

“Seokjin’s coming in,” You gritted, “Then we have a joint practice.”

“Ah,” He flicked the hair he’d just fixed, dropping his racket from his chest to properly grip in his hand, “Your better half.”

“Could kick your ass.”

“I don’t accept challenges from doubles players, sorry.”

“Enough.” Namjoon’s fingers brushed yours aside, taking the hopper from you to turn it in nimble fingers, effectively spilling all the balls you’d worked to pick up. When the bouncing had subsided for the most part, he stretched the wire basket back toward you. “I thought I told you to pick up. All balls. Every one you miss is a lap for Seokjin.”

“...as for you—”

Albeit satisfying, forcing the image of Hoseok to conjure on the surface of the ball hurtling at you over and over and over becomes not only frustrating, but mentally taxing with the bubble of discontent that burst in the pit of your stomach with even the ghosted hint of his stupidly swollen cheeks above tiny little dimples indented into his smirking lips. The real pleasure came when it was the real thing standing on the opposite end of you, way out of range from where your shots were meant to be landing but there, tangible and an easy target if you wanted to face the wrath of Namjoon after welting a bruise on the face of the tennis club’s star singles player.

Hoseok paused in between serves, as if expecting you to do the very thing your mind craved, shuffling on his feet as the ball bounced from the flick of his wrist to the surface of the court. Namjoon stood opposite of him, serve in his own hand with the stipulation that you had to get it back cross court regardless of it was out or not. No matter how out it was. You’d barely taken three off a low, slicing bounce on the corner of the box when Namjoon was holding up a single finger in your direction, crossing the center line to nudge a hand under Hoseok’s elbow when he raised his arm to serve.

There was a certain aura about Hoseok that made your blood boil, from the content nod he passed Namjoon, stepping out of his grasp and disrupting his serve routine but making it easily with barely applying the correction. It’d always been that way, skills coming easily to Hoseok that you’d kill or pay or both to acquire in a years time. He’d won a game before you on your first day of tennis camp, a tiny elementary student with the ball perfectly balanced on the end of his racket as he terrorized everyone near him with screams and flailing hands that made others go scrambling after their balls. He’d learned to slice before you, a tiny middle schooler with clunky running shoes on and a sleeve stretched over his elbow that he’d seen his basketball player friends wear, doing the shot to you two seconds later in a practice match that had you stumbling head first into the net in front of thirty thirteen year olds. He’d made the varsity team before you, taking the last unofficial but official spot because he beat you in a third set tiebreaker when you were still adjusting to ankle braces the trainer said you needed to wear and there was never time the rest of the season to challenge him again.

You’d joined the tennis club first, however, a youth instructor during college until Namjoon had found you taking serves after a group lesson and coaxed you into a pickup match and eventually to try out for the competitive team. As a manager of the club by the time Hoseok’s application came across your desk, you had half the mind to shred it, but your degree and your job position knew better. Hoseok was Namjoon’s friend. Park Jimin had just left a singles spot open on the competitive team.

You decided you could put up with him. If he stayed out of your way. He had since graduation.

But of course he couldn’t. Switching trainers to be with Namjoon. Taking the open locker next to yours when there were, at minimum, seventeen free ones. Wooing your middle school group lessons to the point where they asked for him to teach.

Standing in on your training sessions just weeks before the first of regional qualifier matches.

“Are you awake?” Your cheeks burned at Namjoon’s call and you glared at Hoseok just because you knew he’d be laughing. He was.

“What are you doing?” He continued to scold and you continued to flame, “Back up. And step toward the middle. You aren’t a twelve year old trying to protect your backhand anymore.”

You didn’t move, setting up to take the next serve directly down the line, a fiery ball that bounced lowly just in on the baseline before smacking Hoseok hard on the knee. You twirled your racket as you stood, eyes on your watch and Namjoon’s tight sigh helped with your curt exit.

“Go. Send Seokjin in.”

“Who let Hoseok spit in your lunch?”

You glared at your doubles partner and he giggled, leaning against the locker next to yours as you began to yank clothes out of it, sweatpants and a hoodie and the dangling fabric of your lanyard with your car and house keys attached.

“You joke—” You slammed the metal so hard you hoped it reverberated through the walls to the courts, “—but he’s out there. He was out there during half my training. He’ll probably still be out there for yours and for when I get back. Who knew going undefeated two seasons in a row earned ass kissing from your trainer.”

Seokjin quirked an eyebrow as you struggled with a leg of your sweatpants, cupping a gentle hand on your elbow. “Yeah. Who would have ever guessed. We should try it.”

“We’re regional runner up.”

“Runner up…”

“Look, fuck—”

“I’m aware you hate everyone today, don’t remind me of those who beat us last year,” He held onto your arm until you cinched the drawstrings around your waist, “...look I’m not trying to be an asshole. But when you go home, can you do something for me?”

You glared with the hoodie curled in your fists until Seokjin continued, deadpan, “Crawl into your bed. I know it’s not made because you had an early lesson this morning. Shut your eyes. Then roll over and get up on the other side. Then come back for our joint training.”

If you wouldn’t have got caught in the head of your hoodie, your fuck off would have been entirely more effective.

Seokjin held up two hands in solace anyway, his bag hiking higher on broad shoulders. “Just saying. I don’t need drilled in the back of the head with your serve. Again.”

“That’s only happened twice.”

“Four times,” He wiggled four fingers in front of your nose, “All Hoseok induced. It’s the I can’t stand Hoseok serve. Otherwise known as us losing a point immediately.”

“Whatever,” You stretched your lanyard around your neck, smacking his hand that continued to wave in front of your eyes in order to step around him, “I’ll be back.”

“Bring me an iced coffee from McDonald’s?”

“...you don’t want an apple or something?”

“Yeah, apple slices from a happy meal would be amazing—”

Fresh from your apartment, ankle braces shed in favor of your knee brace, and a happy meal with an iced coffee in hand, you shouldered your way back into the complex. It was silent in the middle of the afternoon, no one aside from the staff, competitive teams, and adult patrons milling around until the children showed up for their evening lessons.

Rather, it was normally silent. And the lobby area followed the same routine when you settled the brown paper bag onto the front desk, no one at the tiny row of bleachers set in front of the window for viewing, no clinging lockers or running shower heads in the locker room. Instead, through the window, figures rushed by. Back and forth. Up and down. A squinted glance and you registered the neon yellow blur to be Hoseok. Then Namjoon. Then one of the other tennis pros who had been on the far side of the complex. Namjoon again.

Namjoon catching your attention by means of wide eyes and frantic hands.

“What?” You didn’t know what you were running for but your slide on sandals weren’t a tripping hazard as you dashed after Namjoon, “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t turn over his shoulder but it was easy to make out his loud it’s Jin when you saw the crumpled heap of your doubles partner, shoulders slumped against the glass viewing window with his knee curled upward to his chest.

“What? What—” You ran out of your sandals, socked feet sliding into a crouched position, “—what happened?”

Seokjin’s ears were painted in red, not the same color as when members of an opposing team complimented the width of his shoulders on a changeover, but one that traveled upward from the pained purse of his lips, curling around the lids of shut eyes. A soft groan let some tension from his shoulders and he tried to roll them out when his eyes curled open to look at you.

“Took a fall,” He tried to smile more so for your benefit, “Thought I could get to a corner backhand. Didn’t have you at the net to cover me.”

“What hurts?”

Seokjin blinked, “Darling, it’s my knee.”

Namjoon was back, dangling fabric bandage in hand but Seokjin batted it away immediately. The trainer agreed with the sentiment, arm around Seokjin’s ribs as he fumbled to a crouched position, tugging. “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”

There was a muted shock that numbed at your stature as you watched your normally bright and bubbly double partner limb feebly at the grace of Namjoon off the court, racket forgotten at the far corner of the court, water bottle and bag untouched and forgotten. Three steps after them to the door and you remembered there was another individual who’d witnessed the incident, too.

“I’m coming with you.”

You glared at Hoseok, clammy hand slick on the screen door. “You’re not.”

“I wasn’t asking,” You bristled at his hand coming in contact with the small of your back, coaxing you through the door, “I’m driving. Also not up for debate.”

You didn’t have much energy to be disgruntled, ducking into his sports car without the top on and your first thought was that it’d probably rain because why wouldn’t it. It was a second before he jammed the keys into the ignition, a roar of an engine where you gladly wouldn’t be able to speak to him any longer.

“Is it bad?”

Hoseok squinted, not bothering to yank expensive sunglasses from the cupholder. Instead of verbally answering, he nodded.

The next question, quipped, “Did you do it?”

He sighed, wrist limp on the top of the steering wheel and his breath visibly stuttered in his chest.

“I can’t believe we’ve got to a point where think you need to ask me that.”

“So it’s torn?”

“Absolutely ripped to shreds.”

“And there’s no miracle of science that can heal you in a month?”

“The only miracle that powerful is—”

“Your face, yes, I’m aware,” You touched the back of Seokjin’s hand, IV’s covered in thick plastic bandages, “You couldn’t have just like, fractured it, huh?”

“That’s now how it works and—” He winked, “—I don’t do anything half-assed.”

Your fingers curled a bit tighter between the spaces in his own, letting your smile fall with your chin to your chest and a miniscule shake of your head. Seokjin watched you, steady gaze without falter when you looked at him again, tight lipped and with a shrug.

“Guess we won’t even have the chance at runner-up this year.”

He shrugged, equally as carefree laced in disappointment as you. There was barely a hesitation from that movement to the part of his lips.

Seokjin corrected, “I won’t have a chance, no. But you can still play.”

You scoffed, drawing your hand into your lap to pick at a stray piece of skin still clinging to your cuticle. “What, in a singles spot? Not a chance.”

“Surely you can find someone else to play with,” Seokjin’s eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, “What are some options—”

“You got hurt less than six hours ago and you expect me to have thought about a new partner already?” You glared at him at his smile grew into the dimples in his cheeks, “Well I haven’t, Jin.”

“I would have. I want—”

You held a hand up, the other coming to scrunch your closed eyelids between the stretch of your fingers. “I don’t want to hear about your fantasy doubles partner.”

“Not even if it’s Venus Williams?”

“Fuck, is she an option? I would have traded you out yesterday.”

Seokjin beamed, “Seriously, darling. Ask Namjoon to find you a new partner, if he can. I’ll be the one at the finals waving two crutches around.”

“Can we attach streamers to them?”

“Obviously…”

“Sit.”

Your iced coffee sat first, cubes clicking dully against plastic, a ring of condensation immediately soaking into the chipped round table engulfing the majority of the conference room. The metal folding chair bumped against the wall with the proximity but you managed to squeeze onto the ripped upholstery, fingers trailing upward on the cup to twirl at the straw.

Namjoon, meanwhile, continued to shuffle stacks of paperwork from within an unbuckled orange binder, registration fees and scribbled rosters and a calendar with a poetic picture of a live tennis ball smacking into an ambiguous line, in no matter the circumstance. A neat pile turned messy when he shuffled the papers again, and finally he settled with three stacks, ends overlapping visibly so you could count the number in each pile.

“We have two options,” He fingered at the end of a piece of paper that hung over the edge of the table, effectively creasing the dull yellow sheet.

The ring of condensation expanded into more of a cylinder when you dragged the cup closer, noisely slurping from the straw as Namjoon sighed. “Mhmm?”

“We add an extra singles spot to the roster,” He fished out the piece of paper, pointing to the empty cell at the end of a complicated spreadsheet. “It wouldn’t be too much trouble. You’d just have to place in at least two of the four remaining qualifiers to make it to the regional. I haven’t researched the competition much but that wouldn’t be too much of a far fetched feat. Trying doesn’t hurt either, seeing as the club is currently paying for a spot that’s not being used anyway.”

You pretended to consider it for a moment and even if you wouldn’t admit it, tiniest part of your conscious seriously considered it. Instead, you nodded, straw still balanced in the center of your bottom lip as you hummed for him to continue.

“The other option is we find you a new partner,” Namjoon’s expression grew considerably greyer, reaching for a different stack of papers this time. His shoulders sagged as he shucked aside the top piece face down, “and of everyone in the club, only three players are currently eligible to take on such a role.”

“And of those three players…”

“One is Park Jimin who I, evidently, have yet to throw paperwork out for. I tried to call him, regardless, and his loyalties lie with his new club. Not that I blame him…”

“The next is Jeon Jeongguk,” Namjoon eyed you through annoyed eyelashes, another paper slapped onto the wobbly table, “...who has preexisting eSports obligations during two of the qualifying matches.”

“Which leaves us with one option—” He peeled the sheet away, nudging it toward you. It messily fluttered but you managed to drag it closer by only wetting the corner with the excess from your cup. A stat sheet with an invoice for lessons scrawled across the bottom, two things among other numbers you passed through in a rush to try to find the name but Namjoon spoke right as your eyes scanned the block printed characters.

“—Jung Hoseok.”

You slapped the paper down into the puddle created by your drink, drowning his name much to Namjoon’s audible dismay. “That’s fine. It was a good season while it lasted but I think I’ll just wait for Jin and the next circuit to begin. You can turn my Friday lessons back over to me early, if you like, since we won’t need to train any longer—”

Namjoon murmured your name, gentle like the way he pried Hoseok’s stat sheet out of your clutches in order not to tear it in the way the delicate width of it was soaked through with caramel water.

“You did used to play together, you know. Well, might I add.”

Hoseok was your first true doubles partner, put together by a student coach on your university’s club team who had no idea of your ever growing distaste for the loud, and then, brown headed man, seeing as Hoseok never left your side during practices, was seen walking you home, among a few things. You were good together, good enough to beat surrounding universities, at the very least. Good enough to stay out of each other’s way, lack the communication of normal doubles teams for the most part, win in silence and easy, truly a silent but deadly duo.

He was never openly cocky, never a keyword as his extreme humbleness seemed to further your not-so-maxed distaste for the man who’d now messily bleached his hair where bits of brown continued to poke out in reverse highlights. At least, not until you ran up against some sizable competition in the finals of the university club tennis championships, his first instinct to insert his vast knowledge in skill in place of your lack of communication while you responded with the same resistance that you always did, except now with a hint of I knew it.

You lost and Hoseok took his slip up as a confirmation of your horrible impression you not-so-subtly had of him. You took it as a confirmation of what you’d thought all along.

“There’s a reason we stopped.”

“A good one?”

You fumed, the water beneath your palm evaporating into steam that, quite literally, could be billowing from your ears if your cheeks heated anymore. You tried to stand, push the chair back, but it lodged against the wall and you stumbled on the leg.

“Good enough for me.”

Namjoon muttered your name again, once soft and again an octave firmer, waiting until you stopped flailing between the rungs of metal to order again, “Sit down.”

“Your already have your answer—”

“Sit down,” He seemed disinterested as he began to carelessly shove papers back into the open flap of the folder but you knew better as he added a quieter but insistent, “Please.”

The back of your knees knocked into the metal ring around the seat of the chair and you sighed upon impact.

“Can you do one thing for me?”

You blinked and your fingers were back to fiddling with the straw. “Depends.”

“Try,” Namjoon closed the folder once everything was tucked semi safely inside, letting his fingers fold into a neat fist on top, “Just try it. We’ll double training sessions so that you’re ready to play in that exhibition match next weekend. If it’s a disaster, I’ll pull your team. It won’t affect you next season and it won’t affect Hoseok’s singles bracket.”

“What do I get in return?”

“My undying appreciation,” Namjoon took your lack of immediate no as you folding, rising to his feet with the folder tucked to his chest, “and maybe I’ll buy you muffins for your morning sessions.”

“I have another question.”

“No, you can’t use Hoseok as a human volley target just because he’s your new partner—”

“First of all, I haven’t said yes yet—” You leaned back in your chair, water dribbling onto the front of your shirt as you brought the straw to poke between your two front teeth, “—secondly…”

“...have you asked Hoseok?”

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok’s watch clinked against the table when he placed both palms flat, shoulders tensing pre-stand, “Anything else?”

Namjoon was a bit firmer with Hoseok than he had been with you, pinning him to the spot with a glare and even you shivered when he hissed, “Sit down, Hoseok.”

The man in question let the tension sink from his shoulders all the way into his wrists, settling his cheek into one palm instead, ringed hand attached to his watched wrist pattering an off beat tune into the wood. After a second of Namjoon staring at him with a single raised eyebrow, he folded his fingers again, the sound of his jewelry rebounding off the wood making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Let me put it a little clearer—” He glanced at you, serious albeit the comical raise of both eyebrows, “—and I’m not in any way trying to hurt your feelings, but I don’t play doubles. I have the singles championship to worry about.”

“Who said you were going to win that,” You grumbled into the knuckles curled over your mouth.

Hoseok’s lips parted, hand flattening in your direction, “I never said I was going to win—”

“Listen to me,” Namjoon exchanged a pained glance between the two of you and you could see his hair greying at the roots.

He turned to you first, “I already know how you feel. I don’t need your input at the moment, not yet.”

Your face heated but you slumped in your chair nonetheless, trying to ignore Hoseok’s stare at the side of your face no matter the expression he had. Especially if that expression was one of sorrow or apology.

“As for you,” The shrug of Namjoon’s shoulders into his hands he began using to help him speak was exasperated, “I’m not trying to take anything away from your training for the singles championship. If anything, this will help. The extra training sessions. The ability to play high level doubles. Everyone should have to play at this level of doubles at least once, if you ask me.”

He jerked a thumb in your direction, “Season’s over if you choose not to play. Which is fine. I just think it’d be a waste of that position. A waste of potential grants for the facility. You know, we could use new quick start nets for the kids but—”

Hoseok groaned but there was a hint of laughter to his tone, “Oh, you’re going to guilt me with the children then, huh, Joon?”

“—but, most of all, it’d be a waste of potential,” Namjoon’s admission silenced even the annoyance brewing in the pit of your stomach, “There’s too much potential here to let an entire season’s worth of work go to waste just because of a little bad luck and two stubborn adults.”

There was an uncomfortable shifting between the two of your chairs and Namjoon took that shade of silence to continue, “Today is Saturday. You train every day twice a day with me until next Friday. We go down the street to the exhibition match. You—” Namjoon pointed the end of his pen in Hoseok’s direction, “—kick Park Jimin’s ass in the morning. Then the two of you kick whoever’s ass in the afternoon.”

“If you don’t do well, which I doubt, then we’ll call the whole thing off. Hobi can continue on to be king of the tri-state area in singles tennis and you can have your six to eight year olds back on Friday evenings,” He finished with a sigh, like he’d just rang seven consecutive laps around the perimeter of the complex, “Yes?”

There was a hesitation and it wasn’t a yes but a sure that grumbled past your lips, one that was mirrored by Hoseok when his chin met his shoulder and he spoke to the tattered shag carpet below.

“That has to be a yes,” Namjoon pointedly glared at you, “From both of you.”

“Sure,” Hoseok waved a dismissive hand under the watchful glower of his longtime friend, “Yes. Yes, I’ll do it.”

You saved the theatrics for glaring at your expression in your mirror. It’d be soft and unsure, just like the murmur that you spoke directly to Namjoon’s awaiting features.

“Yes. Let’s do it.”

“Again.”

You hadn’t sweat this much since it was a fall temperature, almost winter with the whip of the wind, in an early morning clinic in high school only to be summer, extremely so, by hour two and you hadn’t brought anything else to change into and had to suffer with bulky fabric curled around the entirety of your upper half.

You grunted into the forehand, force so much your body tumbled forward a full pace to where you’d been before. The ball sailed past Hoseok at the net, landing at a sharp angle where Namjoon sat in wait.

“Not deep enough,” Another ball was fished from his pocket, prepared to feed to you again, “Again.”

You hadn’t been this sore since you’d forgotten your proper shoes at your apartment and hadn’t had time to go back, taking a hundred serves in low top, completely flat converse that rubbed raw blisters into each pinky toe and made your knees hate you more than ever.

Your ball landed past the service line this time, past where Namjoon stood next to a full basket of balls. He considered it until it thumped against the back wall, rolling sadly to a stop upon impact.

Another ball snagged in the nylon of his shorts.

“Again.”

It was unintentional, a footwork error, the force in which you leaned into the swing of your racket just late enough to have the ball misshit, bad. If there hadn’t been a person in the way, it would have caught in the center of the net, collecting with a few others that had unfortunately met the same fate. But there was a human there, barely crouched like he should be, head hanging low with his racket poised up at his face.

The ball smacked into Hoseok’s waist, the sound audible and the force of the ball so great it shot off in the opposite trajectory as before.

Namjoon had barely turned to dig for more balls to fill his pockets, another again lingering on the tip of his tongue when Hoseok straightened.

“You did that on purpose.”

He was equally covered in sweat, dirty blonde sticking in uneven pleats down the side of his headband and you’d never seen his cheeks so pale and sunken in. His tank top was pasted to the defined planes of his torso, splotches coating his back similarly and it even shone down into the rivets of his bulging calves.

For once, “I didn’t.” Your racket drooped lazily to your side and you heaved in some much needed air, “I swear I didn’t.”

“See, I know you’re lying,” He dabbed the soaked sweatband on his wrist into his bangs, “That doesn’t just happen. Not to you.”

“But it did. It was an accident,” Your grip tightened on the sweat stained handle of your racket, “You’d know if it was on purpose.”

“Okay,” Hoseok kicked a ball, one of the ones displaced by a former shot of yours that had hit the net, “Do it correctly, then. Get it deep in that corner—”

“I know where it needs to go.”

“Then why haven’t you hit it one time yet? Forget your horrid topspin technique…”

“Who’s the coach here, Hoseok?”

There was a distinct sound of spilling tennis balls, ones from the cart Namjoon had carefully dumped over until each and every one of the hundreds of balls littered around his feet. He spoke coldly, knuckles anemic where he gripped his racket two his chest in two hands, “Don’t look at me. I’m done.”

Hoseok watched after Namjoon while you continued to stare at a droplet of sweat contouring the slope of Hoseok’s nose, your attention only diverting when your trainer paused in the doorway.

“Come tomorrow with a better attitude or don’t come at all.”

“And pick all of that up before you leave.”

“Are you ready?”

You glanced at your bare feet shoved in some slides, loose sweatpants rolled twice at the hip and stained university hoodie where it draped over your torso underneath your key lanyard. The next glare was directed at Seokjin, propped half on the row of lockers, half on one of his crutches.

“...to play?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, “No. To go watch Hoseok—”

“Why are you in here, by the way?—”

Heart shaped lips bloomed into a drooping tulip, shuffling on one crutch. “Just because you replaced me doesn’t mean I’m not still part of the team.”

“I didn’t willingly replace you—”

“Are you coming or not?”

You resisted the urge to throw your keys directly at the tiny hole in the brace supporting his knee. “Coming where—”

Seokjin cocked an eyebrow and you smacked him with the wallet part hanging off your keys, letting him work his way through the weased laughter of amusement at himself before he finally shrugged.

“Don’t know I guess, darling. I’m going to watch Hoseok though, so if you’d like to sit here for another five hours, then be my guest.”

You paused as Seokjin shuffled, retrieving his other crutch and settling it underneath his arm. He was one swing toward the door when you sighed, “Is he playing Jimin?”

“Yes.”

“What color hair does Jimin have?”

“Does it really matter? He has those tight shorts on—”

“Oh fuck off. I’m coming, I’m coming, slow down, you’re faster on those things then with two good knees—”

You navigated into the fairly crowded set of bleachers outside the first court of the outdoor complex, taking a seat on the first row while Seokjin tried to balance his crutches against the fence with muted squeaks of protest. He finally went for flat on the ground by the time the players on the court were nearly halfway through the match with Hoseok in a comfortable lead.

But he didn’t show it, sweat pouring out from underneath the dark blue headband that contained the flattened part of his hair, white sweatbands pressed against his face between each point, groans of effort emitting off the surface of the court every time he had to strain for a corner shot from Jimin.

He made eye contact with you when he jogged to the fence to retrieve a loose ball, a serve way out by Jimin, tucking it into his pocket with blind eyes as he instead stared you down with parted lips. He nodded, barely, the smallest acknowledgement that shook the sweat stained ends of blonde hair, splattering more to the dark blue patches that made his shirt stick to his torso.

Seokjin nudged you, “His hair is pink right now, I guess.”

You tried to pretend you weren’t eyeing the peak of Hoseok’s thighs where his shorts rode up on his sticky skin, spluttering, “You think that’s pink?”

“Well it’s not blue.”

You managed to avert your gaze enough to notice that Seokjin wasn’t lying to get a rile out of you, it was pink, cotton candy in variety and fluffed in waves even if he seemed to be sweating as much if not worse than Hoseok. It was your mouth that betrayed you in the end, ranting, “Blue? Why would it be blue? Blue sucks really. Who would dye their hair blue—”

Seokjin watched the side of your face with a smirk pressed into his dimples and knuckles curled across his lips, “Maybe I should have warned you about Hoseok instead of Jimin—”

“Hey, will it hurt if I punch your scar right now?”

“Probably, why?”

“Good, turn toward me a little bit—”

You grew comfortable in your absent stare at the loop of Hoseok’s shoelaces, one through a whole tightened, repeat. They were a different pair than he’d worn in the morning, white now, with what appeared to be a strip of pastel purple shoved into a sleeve on the side of each shoe. The laces were similar, a soft hue that looked delicate in Hoseok’s nimble fingers, a woven melody that seemed to overlap Namjoon’s droning words in the back of your conscious.

“Are either of you listening to me?”

Your grip tightened on the straps of your bag as your gaze jerked away from comfort and it was the startled part of your mouth that gave you away before you could even try to lie.

Namjoon’s palms hit the bench he’d been perched on with renewed fervor, shaking his head as he stalked for the doorway. “I don’t even know why I try. All I ask is that you don’t kill each other out there. Otherwise, I’ll see you afterwards.”

Hoseok grunted as he straightened, joints cracking as he deliberately twisted his spine in time with hiking his foot up higher than necessary to push it off the elevation he’d been tying his shoe.

“Don’t need him anyway, right?” He teased.

“Since when do you not have to listen to your coaches?”

The sunshine curved upward into the apples of his cheeks immediately flattened, turning downward even as his chin curtly cocked.

“I didn’t see you listening to him either, princess,” Hoseok heaved his bag onto his shoulders, smile returned but anything less than inviting as it had been before.

Your features burned, “That’s not—”

“Whatever.”

You made every excuse possible to debunk that the expression on his face was not one of genuine pain.

You didn’t stop from the firm shake of hands with each member of the opposing team to the gravel around the trunk of your car where you, rather unceremoniously, dropped your bag from your shoulders to dig around for you keys. You’d just snagged the end of them, buried underneath a couple stray balls and a shock absorber shaped like a broken heart emoji, when scuffing feet passed by you.

You wished you hadn’t look up.

“Don’t look at me,” Namjoon ordered, hands up, palms wide on either side of his shoulders. He paused next to his own car, three down from your own but he didn’t climb inside, fishing out a binder as he took off back the way he came, “Figure it out on your own.”

“In fact, there’s two of you,” Namjoon tripped when he tried to walk backward and talk to you, clutching the binder to his chest as he faltered, “Figure it out with him.”

But you weren’t in the mood, not after the walking purple highlighter had spent the entire match scolding your technique under his breath and not bothering to communicate strategy with you once, not even when you won the first game on your serve and had them down forty love in the second game.

It’d gone south from there. Two-six, zero-six. Not in your favor.

You didn’t stop from the jam of your keys into the ignition, nearly reversing into a truck that was pulling out at the same time, until you navigated into a kind-of-but-not-really parking spot just on the edge of striped lines in the garage beside your building.

You’d figured it out on your side, not needing to consult Hoseok’s opinion because you’d already come to terms with your season ending while trying to convince Seokjin you couldn’t sneak him out to the nearest Chili’s (it’ll take thirty minutes, no one will even notice I’m gone). You dumped your tennis bag and keys in the foyer, tripping over them with your phone pressed to your nose as you spit out the nasty text message to the bleeding highlighter himself.

I think you know what I’m going to say. Best of luck for the remainder of the season.

You left your phone face up on the counter while you disappeared into face melting steam only the rest of the hot water in your building could produce.

A stress ordered pizza and half the pieces later, you passed by your phone with still dripping hair, droplets smearing onto the screen when you leaned over the device as it lit with a notification. A top notification of five. Three emails, one from Namjoon and business related which meant he wasn’t going to fire you from your manager position.

Two texts from Hoseok.

Thank you.

Dinner at my place tomorrow?

Your burp tasted of pepperoni as you clutched the phone to your chest, bouncing onto your couch with a dramatic hop. One leg propped up on the coffee table. A pillow tucked underneath your elbow.

Disinterested in the recording of a Wednesday night reality show, you tapped with one thumb busy.

Three bubbles appeared almost immediately and you almost puked in the rush to exit out of the application because, no, you hadn’t turned on read receipts just to send him a text.

Busy with what?

You gasped but he couldn’t hear you. Angrily now, with two thumbs I have work at the complex to finish.

An eye roll emoji in response. Followed by a smiling one but not the one with rosy cheeks. The one that looks slightly uncomfortable but also all-knowing.

We’re closed on Sundays.

I do comanage. I have keys.

...so you’ll be over at five?

You glared at your phone and, unfortunately, you could picture he triumphant smile filling up the entirety of your screen. The smallest part of your seasoned conscious said there he goes, cocky again. Your fingers worked before that thought fully traveled to the angel on your left shoulder, the devil on your right controlling your joints as you tapped on your phone.

What’s your address?

You tossed your phone aside as the next message lit up your phone immediately. The address. You acknowledged the text so you wouldn’t have to get the second notification, pulling your knees to your chest instead.

There was a second text because of course there was. A heart emoticon, this time with the blushing cheeks. And three tiny hearts. You sighed and you didn’t know why your singular heart fluttered a bit against your ribs.

Your knuckles had barely tapped against the door for a third time when Hoseok’s sharp voice flit through the sizable gap underneath the door, spilling light into the dim hallway. Shadows danced by the white, small, rounded at the end with little points.

The points explained the sound of scuffling from within, Hoseok’s cooing explained when the door was pulled open from the inside to him crouched on the floor, palm curved around the breast of a brown and white shitzhu. The dog didn’t bark, but it was clear he wanted to get to you, feet absently swimming underneath him as Hoseok rose with him in toe, eyeing the tongue that curled out of the puppy’s mouth with a tender fondness you’d never seen before.

“Hi,” Hoseok bounced the dog once in his arms. “Mickey was excited for you to get here.”

Frozen steps brought you through the threshold, fingers reaching gently for the dog. He seemed to melt under your touch, letting you rub behind and up and down his ears. It was unintentional the way you glanced up at Hoseok, through your eyelashes and with a smile tucked into your cheeks.

You weren’t surprised to see that his wardrobe wasn’t any less when outside of the confining lines of the tennis court. A baggy button up tucked into the waist of tight black jeans, sleeves hanging past his elbows and decked in brightly colored shapes pasted above and below vertical black lines stretched the length of the top. A bright gold watch strapped to his dainty wrist. What appeared to be clip-on matching earrings suffocating his lobes. A thin chain dipping below the first two buttons that were undone. His blonde hair was fluffier when not carefully parted with a sweatband, swept in a flattering bowl across his forehead, more of the brown roots tucked behind his ears.

Even his smile was different, crawling upward in pretty pink lips the longer you failed to break eye contact with him at the close proximity.

You broke the trance by speaking way too loud for the door still being open and for that part of your conscious seeming to forget that this man was your mortal enemy.

“Mickey, huh?”

Hoseok hummed in acknowledgement, wordlessly passing the dog to your arms as he reached around you to tug the door shut. You awed at the tiny creature as he tongued at the apex of your elbow, gently and almost methodical in nature before beaded brown eyes peered up at you.

“He keeps me company.”

You’d been too busy prodding at the dog’s nose to laugh when his tongue darted out to try to chase your affections to notice that Hoseok had already disappeared into the depths of the apartment. You exchanged a glance with the puppy, bundling him tighter to your chest as you trekked down the hall.

Hallway was a relative term, just a few feet of walls on either side before the room opened up into a kitchen, living room combination. Something played on the television, muted, but a program you didn’t recognize nonetheless, curved in by a thick black throw rug and a tattered, red leather couch. Dark grey walls paired with a monochromatic interior theme didn’t match the ratty white linoleum peeking out from corners of various colored rugs.

You were entranced in the most mundane aspects of the apartment, focused on a worn edge of matte black countertop when Hoseok’s gentle voice chided at you.

“You can put him down, you know.”

The dog hadn’t so much as made a noise in your aimless wandering and when you glanced down, you found his muzzle resting on your forearm, eyes fluttering with soft sighs. You cooed, gently rocking him as though he were a child. “But he’s napping.”

Plates knocked together as Hoseok spread them two across the bar, diligent in his work with cocked eyebrows and the beginnings of a smile. “He’s always napping,” He dove for the pots on the stove, a pronged utensil dipping into the depths before drawing out a stringy clump of pasta. The meal was deposited onto the first plate and he murmured, “Better not bring you around too much, he won’t want to walk anywhere.”

You relented when Mickey woke with a soft yawn, jostled by your conversation and the continued sound of dishes. He skidded across the floor with the softest delighted yip!, disappearing around the corner and you could tell by the way Hoseok chirped and glanced down that he was pestering his owner for attention now instead.

“I didn’t even ask,” Hoseok continued to plate the dishes, now spreading a sweet smelling sauce to the top, “Is spaghetti alright with you?”

You hummed, elbows knocking into the edge of the counter to peer at his creation. You lessened the severity of your tone in hopes that he would recognize you were kidding, “A gourmet meal…”

“Hey—” The glint in the wrinkles around his eyes let you know he too was kidding and the tension in your shoulders relaxed, “—it’s all I had here on such short notice.”

“You asked me to come. In fact, you didn’t give me much of a chance to say no…”

“I wanted you to be here,” His final dollop of sauce ended up half on the plate, half splattered on the counter, and he slid the clean plate across to you before ducking for a napkin. The mess was cleaned with scrunched features, a sigh falling from parted lips when he balled the paper and missed the trash bin on the very edge.

You watched Hoseok quietly from your perched position on one of two barstools as he collected his own plate, silverware in hand as he rounded the bar to you. “I think we have some things to talk through—” He tugged the empty chair back with the round of his foot, depositing the cutlery to the surface of the counter as he went, “—don’t you?”

“Without Namjoon?”

He shot you a pointed look, stabbing the end of his fork into the center of his pasta spiral, “Definitely without Namjoon.”

You quietly cut into the ends of the noodles, scooping up a sizeable bite, “Yesterday was clearly a disaster.”

“It wasn’t that bad. The score doesn’t always tell the whole story,” There was a fleck of garlic stuck to the corner of pouted lips when he glanced at you, “A little more practice can fix our chemistry issues.”

“Can it though?” You dumped the pieces of pasta you’d cut back to the plate, gently setting your fork down, “I don’t know that any amount of practice can make us like each other. Or even pretend—”

“Do you dislike me?”

“No,” You answered quickly and earnestly because you didn’t. For the most part. Not really. “I mean...no. No, I don’t.”

Hoseok nodded, quickly at first and then slower, more to himself as he began to stab around the pasta some more. Moving it back and forth, coating the clean parts of the plate in sticky red sauce and then finally he mumbled, “Good...that’s—that’s good to know.”

“Truthfully, I don’t know why it ever got to this point. Where we can’t even collaborate for a few days on the thing we both love.”

More pointed clicking of metal against glass. A noisy slurp of water from a plastic cup. More scooting and then, “Why can’t we though?”

“You saw how yesterday went. How all our training sessions have gone—”

“Forget about those,” He dropped his fork now too, rotating until his knees almost knocked into yours, “Seriously, forget about them.”

Hoseok inhaled, a deep sigh that had his gaze trailing over your head, “...look, I don’t know what you think about me. I try not to care. But let’s just...for the sake of right now, start over?”

A mental slideshow passed by in front of your eyes as you stared at the genuine plea pasted over Hoseok’s heart shaped features, all the moments your stomach had stirred with a fire and your tongue had lashed out those internal hardships but you suddenly couldn’t find the ignition, the accelerant that made the flames engulf your nerve endings to the very tips of your fingers non existent, smoking like doused with water (or store bought, jar made spaghetti sauce). A mirage, maybe, just like the limp noodle lodged between one of your back molars.

You extended your hand toward the figure across from you.

“Yeah, let’s start over—” You sucked in a sharp breath, setting your shoulders and the smile that spread to your lips was supposed to be faux but turned out light hearted anyway. You cheered your name, tilting your head toward your wiggling fingers, “—it’s a pleasure to be your doubles partner for an eighth of the season, sir.”

He touched your hand, loose in sliding his fingers across your palm to squeeze, not shake. His voice feathered out of twitching lips just like the stumble of your heart, wholy unsure but willing to try.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“No Namjoon?”

Seokjin was off his crutches now but still sporting what appeared to be the world’s largest brace, coated in metal gears that made you joke if he was starting his transition to immortality. He met you in the doorway of the locker room, holding a hand out for your water jug. You handed it over, expecting him to carry it for you as you brushed past but he flicked the lid and took the longest gulp, mashing a piece of ice between his teeth as he handed it back.

“No,” You popped the lid closed, smacking his bicep with the knowledge he couldn’t catch up to you if you took off running, “No, no Namjoon today. He’s here but not...here. Not trying to coach us yet.”

“Not after what happened last time,” Hoseok was fiddling with the velcro strap of a visor as he exited the opposite door. He sported the same light purple color scheme, something about reversing the bad luck of the exhibition match.

You’d changed up your outfit, just in case omens were real and the tennis gods hated red. Yellow was your color choice. You weren’t brave enough to match him yet, either.

He looked up when he secured it, jamming the hat down over his hair, eliminating the signature part that marked his quick dashes across the court. The bright smile stayed as he flanked your small posse, nudging you with the arm covered in two sweatbands and a skin colored arm sleeve.

“Are you two...like friends now?”

Seokjin’s loud inquiry heated your cheeks but Hoseok just shrugged, still looking at where his elbow had touched your stomach. “Partners, at the very least,” Hoseok provided, “Doubles partners. Ones who work together and don’t try to concuss each other with serves.”

Your mouth parted to deny that I’ve never done that but Seokin quipped, “Oh, she’s tried to do that to you for ages. It was one of her training strategies with me—”

“Where’s your off switch, Mr. Robot.”

“Don’t have one. Anyway, best of luck!”

When there was a sailing lob over Hoseok’s head, you were eager to call out to switch!, worn traction on the soles of your shoes allowing you to slide to catch the shot, lobbing it back cross court while Hoseok lay in wait at the net, seeking out the easy put away shot at the net that would eventually and did eventually come.

When there was an opportunity to play strategy on his serve, you did, each starting on the left side the second point into the game, allowing Hoseok to serve a hard, down the line ball to the opponent's backhand which, in turn, set you up for a sneaky and easy floater that you crammed in the center of the two players.

When there was a changeover in the first set, five games to love in your favor, your hand was there for Hoseok’s to smack, a high five he taunted a little bit above your head while you tried to balance your water bottle in one palm and seek out his hand in the other. It earned a smile when you spilled ice water down the front of your top and he had to hand you a hand towel from his bag while the opposing team watched impatiently from their positions.

When there was an opportunity in the second set for the opposing team to get a breakpoint, make it three to four rather than five to two, Namjoon called you over to the fence with only a sliver of the feeling of dread lingering in his posture. He eyed the pair of you as you approached, Hoseok shoved lightly on your arm as you went to plant but instead of an outraged screech from you, it just earned another push and a fit of mingling giggles, ones Namjoon nearly went into cardiac arrest over and he never thought he’d have to tell you and Jung Hoseok to stop laughing at each other so that he could speak.

There were still moments of tension, moments that made you inhale and dig your fingernails into the grip of your racket but instead of muttering obscenities under your breath and using his head as target practice for your spin serve, you smiled, real and genuine, and you leaned closer to his fiery explanations spoken as a similarly smiley octave, “What was it you wanted me to do?”

They were easy to navigate in the first round of the tournament, take you through the lunch of cold cut sandwiches Seokjin had laid out on a picnic table for you, the second round that drew a little bit closer in score but was still a win (both statistically and morally, especially when Namjoon walked you out to the court with instruction rather than hid in the safety of his car until it seemed like you wouldn’t try to slash Hosoek’s achilles with the frame of your racket). The third round brought more of the past to rear its ugly head, a dark storm cloud that reminded you in rain and miscommunication at the net that you were a human, not a miracle worker.

But you won, barely, in a tiebreaker that nearly killed your stamina for the championship but the taste to win was so fresh on the roof of your mouth, you grit your teeth to grind it up and swallow it. Second best wasn’t good enough, even if it would qualify you for the regional champions, if you were already qualified.

But you lost and you had to accept the bitter regurgitation of the victory you could taste, washing it away with your lukewarm water that had melted all the ice cubes onto your tongue throughout your fourth and final match of the day. Except it was just that, a learning experience, bitter but available to all the critiques Namjoon chattered in your ears as you trekked into the parking lot. You didn’t speed away, nearly destroy your ignition with your keys this time, instead leaned against your driver side door while Hoseok coaxed your bag from your shoulders and stuffed it into your trunk with your keys in his hand.

Namjoon’s fleeting expression at the action was the same when you entered the complex for a training session not nearly a week later, both from Hoseok’s car, your bag slung over one of his shoulders while you held up what appeared to be a strawberry smoothie for him to sip out of. The startled trainer explained the wrong drill four times and resorted to letting you do the wrong thing on the fifth try as he went about collecting barely there balls in a hopper while muttering to himself.

Thus is why you didn’t think the hotel conseguir was kidding when she handed you two keycards while asking, “Are you checking in for Jung Hoseok as well?”

“Oh, no. Why would I—”

“You’re each listed under this room,” Her grip tightened on the plastic cards when you pinched them, trying to pull them back, “Is that incorrect?”

Someone in the growing line behind you coughed and the quick glance behind you noted that his t-shirt advertised some sort of local tennis tournament. Similarly to the person approaching the desk in the opposite line from you with a spare racket tucked under their arm, one that must have spilled from the half open bag slopped at their ankles.

“I...no, that’s—”

“That’s how it was booked,” She continued to tug on the cards, freeing them from your grasp to flatten them on the desk in front of you as she began to click around on the monitor, “...and it appears we have no other rooms for the weekend, so—”

“Yes, I’m checking in for Jung Hoseok as well. He’s with me—” She glanced up at you through a stray hair that had escaped from behind her ear and you panicked, “—I didn’t know he booked it under his...other name.”

“Right…” A receipt printed with various pieces of information, one of which blurred the majority of the tennis club’s credit card number, a card held in Namjoon’s name. “Third floor, room forty. Enjoy your stay.”

You called Namjoon in the elevator, ranting at him before the dead spot could end as you stepped off on the third floor.

“Why’d you book us the same room?”

He yawned into the receiver and you briefly felt bad for waking him from his pre-connecting-flight-nap. Briefly. “Me and you?”

“No dumba—” You stopped yourself to fumble and jam one of the keycards into the slot of room forty, waiting until it clicked over. “—no, Namjoon. Hoseok and I.”

The edge of one of your rackets misplaced inside your bag, catching on the doorframe as you stumbled inside to find the worst part of the singular room. The singular bed.

“You couldn’t even book a room with two full beds?”

“I booked two rooms with one queen bed each.”

“No, you booked one room with a king bed—” You dropped the handle of your suitcase to swat at the towel folded like a swan at the edge of the bed.

“Well at least it’s a king.”

“Namjoon.”

“Did you just...ask for another room?”

“They’re booked for the weekend. Kind of a large tennis tournament going on at the attached event center. And some cooking ware convention, but I didn’t take the guy’s brochure…”

“...speaking of which, are you sure you booked yourself a room? Or did you just book the entire club one singular room—” You swatted the swan again to take a seat on the corner, “—because if so, we’re about to get real comfy for the weekend.”

“I’ll call here in a second but if they only mentioned you and Hoseok’s names in the room...then I think it’s just the two of you, love.”

You groaned to which Namjoon sighed, “Just try for me, okay?”

“I just tried to be his doubles partner, not—”

“And look where that got you,” You paused because Namjoon was right. You were a better team than either of you cared to admit. Than you cared to admit to yourself. And all it took was trying, sincerely, applying your passion for the game to the partnership with someone you would no longer regard as you mortal enemy.

Just your roommate for two days, apparently.

“...anyway, I need you to call Hoseok and explain what’s going on. That’s a phone call I don’t have time to make.”

“Namjoon—”

“Have a good night!”

You glared at your thumb for it’s seasoned ability to move to Hoseok’s contact but especially the ability to hit call and place it on speaker.

“Was just about to text you,” He sounded far away, out of breath, and faintly you heard the call of a boarding flight. “Just landed. Meeting my driver to the hotel now.”

“Room three-forty.”

“Do you want me to make a pit stop at a grocery store or something? Get some fruit and waters—wait what?”

“Room three-forty,” You repeated, glaring at the opposite wall to prevent yourself from calling Hoseok a dumbass out loud until you noticed in your reflection of the flat screen television that you still had your backpack on, “That’s where you’re staying.”

“...okay,” You heard him utter a thank you and then a door shut, “Are we neighbors or something?”

“Mhm, I suppose you could call it that.”

More silence. More muffled directions, and then he sighed, “Did Namjoon book us the same room?”

“Were you in on it?”

“So that’s a yes but, w-what? No, I—” Hoseok laughed and under normal circumstances you’d fume, “—sweetheart, he joked about it in practice like twenty times. He probably joked about it so many times that he did it without thinking.”

You paused and one of the twenty instances flooded back, when Namjoon had entered the complex to you leaned back in your desk chair while Hoseok wrapped new purple grip onto the handle of your racket.

“Maybe I should just book you the same room for the championships,” His voice had faded as he ducked into his own office, “Wouldn’t that be a treat!”

You’d snatched your racket back from Hoseok not without jamming the end into his stomach playfully. “Maybe you should not do that!”

“Oh,” You switched the phone between your palms as you finally shrugged out of your backpack, letting it sag limply against the neatly stacked pillows, “Oh yeah.”

“So do you want those snacks?”

“If you get something other than fruit.”

“Noted, you want junk food,” You could hear the smile in his voice, “Any other requests?”

You flopped backward onto the mattress, forearm over your eyes and you sighed into the immediate heat that spread across your skin.

“Yeah, hurry up. I’m lonely.”

“Just one bed too, huh?”

Hoseok rubbed at his eyes, skin coated in a thin sheen underneath the lowlights of the room where he’d just lathered two layers of a fresh smelling skin cream. A loose pajama shirt hung cockeyed over his torso and he fiddled with the top button, not done up in the same way the two below it weren’t either, knee bending to sink into the spot on the mattress across from you.

“Yeah,” You rolled where you’d already cocooned yourself in the duvet. You pitched your voice to match Namjoon’s, exaggerated and drawn out, “but at least it’s a king.”

He hesitated in peeling back the sheets, waiting until you glanced curiously at him to soften, “Is this...okay?”

“What?”

“I can sleep on the floor,” The bracelets still attached to his wrist tinkled together as he gestured to the lumps on lumps of white sprawled across the massive bed, “I think there’s enough here to make some decent padding��”

“And give you stiff joints before the first two rounds tomorrow?” You rolled your eyes, patting the space next to you, “Get in here. Namjoon was partially right. This is a massive king bed.”

Hoseok was hesitant in the entrance albeit confident in the way he sprawled, nearly intruding on what you’d deemed “your side” with a vertical pillow that prevented you from seeing his face when he finally settled his cheek to his hand. But you could tell he was facing you from the slide of his foot underneath the sheets and you held your breath that it wouldn’t brush the bend of your knees until something else drew your attention, a hand slapping over the pillow in the middle and gently pushing it down until you could see shower fresh blonde hair and crinkled brown irises.

“There you are,” His voice trilled at the end of the last syllable and you tucked the blankets tighter to you as if they would shield the sound of your heart in your ears.

Lamely, muffled by the blankets you nodded, “I’m here!”

His smile shifted to where his fingers drummed against the pillow still placed between you. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, first round shouldn’t be too difficult but either opponent we’d face in the second round will be the real challenge. They’re both from different complexes in the north that are known for being pretty competitive so...I heard Namjoon say you got one of the best draws in your singles bracket though so that’s—”

“Yeah,” Hoseok’s fingers stopped their movements on the pillow, “I mean, like are you...are you actually, you know, ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, still avoiding your gaze and his fingernails went to picking at loose fibers in the pillowcase, “I know you wanted to get back to this spot with Seokjin. And instead it’s with me, so I can understand why you wouldn’t…”

“Where is all this coming from?”

“You know I never…” Hoseok’s wandering eyes stared directly at you now, dark and dilated and shining with the city lights that sheared through the curtains, “I’ve never hated you. I want you to know that.”

“...and I never wanted you to hate me. I don’t pretend to be anything I’m not but I will apologize for whatever I’ve done to give you this horrible impression of me.”

You burned with a sickening realization that only grew worse the longer he talked to the sheets.

“You intrigued me, so I thought, you know, you were an obstacle to conquer, especially when it seemed like you vehemently hated me. And then I realized you did actually not like me, and I wasn’t really sure what to do.”

“Remember the day Seokjin got hurt?”

You didn’t trust your numb chords to vocalize so you swallowed and nodded.

“You asked me if I’d done it. If I’d sabotaged you for virtually no reason,” He blinked, eyes closed for a little longer than necessary and your breath felt heavy in your lungs, “I could live with you thinking I’m a little cocky because sometimes, I am. I’m confident in my abilities and I won’t apologize for that.”

“But for you to think I’d purposely injure your doubles partner, injure someone else so you...what? Couldn’t share the notoriety of winning a championship like I had? I began to, you know, question it.”

“And I thought it was all in my head, that maybe it was just a fit of passion that made you ask me that, and everything would continue per normal. Less than friendly insults. You using the image of my face as serve target practice.”

“After that first exhibition match is when I kind of knew that it wasn’t in my head, you know,” Hoseok shrugged, sadly again and the last bit of your heart crumbled, “I wanted to fix it. Because I never wanted you to hate me. I’ve always admired you too much for that.”

You shed the pillow barrier to scoot closer, rushing, “I was jealous of you, you know that? I always have been. It’s ridiculous. Sorry doesn’t cut it, but I am. So sorry.”

He laughed and you touched his face to lessen it, scooting another space closer. “I know you were. It’s okay.”

“It’s not though, I shouldn’t have been. I had no reason to be other than my stupid petty personal vendettas,” Your palm fully cupped his cheek, thumbing at the passion induced liquid that had leaked underneath that set of eyelashes, “I’ve been an asshole to you.”

“I’m not exactly innocent.”

“No, but I’m not going to play a game of who's the bigger asshole,” You didn’t startle when he touched your hand, holding onto the cling of his gaze, “I’m sorry for this giant misunderstand. I am.”

“A years upon years long misunderstanding.”

You laughed, soft and dry on a tiny cough that racked through your body. “Yeah...that.”

“I’m sorry. Too,” Hoseok’s hand threaded underneath your own, holding up a hopeful pinky and the remaining tears glittered at his irises, “Truce?”

You linked your pinkies, letting him tug you close enough to ghost his lips to your forehead.

“Truce.”

You woke with his limbs tangled around your torso, lips in your hair telling you to stay asleep as he sleepily shuffled for his suitcase still laying limply at the edge of the bed. But you didn’t listen, you alarm going off after he’d disappeared into the shower with his uniform in hand, bright yellow this time and matching of yours with the team name scrawled across the front. You were happy it said Game, Set, Match Tennis HQ instead of Namjoon’s proposed Namjoon’s Ball Kids.

(“We’re the same age.” “You’re still my kid.” “No.”)

“Did I wake you?” He hushed into the room as if you weren’t half dressed with the room light on.

“I’m coming with you?”

“Why? Our call time for warm up isn’t until at least after one o’clock and—”

“I’m coming to watch you—” You paused with an arm half in a sweatshirt and you pumped it cheesily, “—you know. Cheer you on.”

“Ah,” He fluffed deft fingers into partially damp hair, sweatband twirled around his arm, “My good luck charm?”

You were enough luck for him to finish in plenty of time for you to get a nap in before your first round draw. Enough luck for you to catch dinner with an arriving Seokjin just before your second round match. Enough luck for you to go two and O on the day while Hoseok belted four wins between his two positions.

Not enough luck for the matching trophy to the one cased in glass at the complex, instead earning Hoseok a third place plaque on the second day that he displayed in the center of your hotel room bed.

“Would rather win with you, anyway,” He muttered into your ear before the championship, popping out one of your earbuds mid calf stretch. You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his lips brushed down your neck as he pulled away into his own stretch, shrugging bulky headphones back across his head.

Frustration pricked early at your conscious, Hoseok’s quip not under his breath but directly to your face while you sucked down water on a changeover, informing you to fix your grip on the backhands and seal the line on the deuce side of the net. It was the flex of his palm toward the fire in your eyes that quieted you though, the silent assurance that he was just trying to help and he didn’t so much as flinch when you pointed out the forehand player on the opposing team was eating him alive at the net. He just shrugged, holding his racket up for you to click together and agreed.

“You’re right. I’ll play double back for a game.”

He played double back while you switched to a flat shot on your backhand and you won the game, tying the first set at three-three until you won on your serve from a similar strategy of capitalizing on Hoseok’s quickness at the baseline, giving you the opportunity to charge for putaways.

It was a communicated strategy that you tweaked between games but otherwise allowed you to sail through the first set with only one more dropped game, six-four, and two games into the second set until your grip started to drift again, sending three backhands in a row sailing out of bounds.

“C’mon now,” A simple enough encouragement, spoken at a slightly irritated tone that forced Hoseok’s next shot to sail into the center of the net.

You cut in front of him on the third shot of the next game, ball meeting a similar feat where the net and the ground met and Hoseok threw up his hands in frustration. Namjoon spoke freely now, a single yell from the side that said settle down and although it was meant for both of you, you took it personally and fumbled through two double faults on your next serve opportunity, putting you down two-three.

“I don’t care if you win or lose, frankly,” Namjoon said when you met him at the fence, “but we will not play a third set.”

Hoseok didn’t wait until Namjoon shuffled away to his spot on the bleachers to chide, “Let me get the next few shots. Stop trying to cheat at the net.”

...which led you to cheat at the net four more times, only two of which were successful. Five-three, Hoseok’s serve, his reluctance of fine, go for it when you’d gone up four-three and a simple nod when you’d tossed him the extra balls for the beginning of his serve for, potentially, the entire match.

You let him get the fifteen point, then the thirty point. They fumbled his serve on the forty point.

It was an all or nothing shot up the line, fired at an angle and you knew it was coming from the way your opponent set up with open feet, an audible grunt ringing down the other courts as the ball raced off the strings. It was down the line, a beautiful shot in any other circumstance, and your reflexes forgot your years of training, footwork, drills.

Instead, you stood up and stuck your racket out.

The ball caught the corner of your frame, barely brushing the worn and tattered black edges, applying just enough spin to fall in over the net, dying upon impact and winning.

Six-four, six-three, championship.

You turned, dropping your racket as you spread your arms and through a loud, unabashed laugh did you call, “I thought you told me to stop going for them?”

A steady pair of arms engulfed your waist, lifting your feet from the ground and you lost count of how many circles you’d actually spun but you tallied at least seven when your heels were planted back to the court and a warm pair of lips pressed between the seam of your own.

“We won!” You cheered into Hoseok’s face and he just blinked happily, smile permanent, each of you shocked to the previous kiss but not to the next when you threaded tight fingers into the sweat stained blonde, effectively knocking his headband off to where it bounced between the connection of your mouths.

“Told you I would rather win with you.”

You hummed, kissing his chin, “Saving it for me?”

You shivered with the way he nosed down your cheek, “Always, sweetheart.”

There was an audible pout in Seokjin’s voice even when you weren’t looking at him.

“What about me?”

Hoseok chuckled from where he was craned behind you to inspect the trophy, palm rubbing gentle circles into the small of your back. “Don’t worry, buddy. I prefer singles, anyway.”

“...but not when our doubles champion here is single, yeah?” You finally glanced up at Seokjin as he traded a curled fist between you and Hoseok’s stomach. “Yeah? Yeah!?”

“Oh come on. You don’t think the entire audience didn’t see that kiss?”

“Get out of here, Jin.”

“Pinky promise not to ditch me next season.”

“I pinky promise.”

“You have to do the thing.”

You held up a limp pinky just to sate him but he clucked his tongue. “No. The thing.”

Hoseok’s hand stiffened on your spine as he watched you wet your smallest finger, lathing your tongue over it for good measure before sticking it out for Seokjin. The older man popped his from his cheek, twisting your fingers together before scampering off. Or at least, you thought.

“Does anyone want to go drinking tonight? My treat!”

“For the record, he’s right,” Hoseok brushed hair off your neck to press soft lips there, “I’d prefer you not be single.”

“Oh, yeah?” You hugged the trophy to your chest to turn to him, “And what would you prefer I be?”

“Mine.”

Your lips rounded into a perfect circle, one droning syllable leaving as you reached up to pat his cheek, “See, that kind of cocky is attractive.”

“M’not cocky,” There was a pout to Hoseok’s heart shaped mouth but a seriousness behind his statement that made you heat with more than sunburn.

“You’re not at all,” You turned in the slot of his arm, stretching to peck his jaw. “I would prefer to be yours, too. If it’s any consolation.”

He pretended to think, shadows falling over one side of his face as the sun began to set and reflect off the gold plated award clutched in your arms.

“Want to try it?” Hoseok grinned finally, dropping his chin to look at you, “Just see how it goes?”

You placed the trophy aside, down on the bottom row of bleacher closest to you to wrap both arms around his neck. “Yeah, let’s try it.”

#bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #hoseok imagines #hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #hoseok imagine #hoseok scenario #hoseok scenarios #fic: game set love

552 notes · View notes