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libraryofloveletters · 3 years ago

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Just A Phase

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, typical high school nonsense, kinda rude behaviour at first meet, mentions of weed/alcohol and the consumption of, typical cocky jock behaviour, few swear words, being tipsy/drunk

Category: fluff and a little angst

Word Count: 5.4k

Author’s Note: I just started writing and this is where I ended up so yeah also I feel like I haven’t written in a million years, forgive me if this is shitty // I referred to Buck as Evan for the first little bit because he and the reader had been introduced yet. // thank you to my darling @floralbuckleys for their help!

----

Senior Year Of High School.

Evan Buckley, certified jock and bad boy.

He was the type of guy that only had a soft spot for you, but you didn’t know that yet. Truthfully he wasn’t a mean guy - people just perceived him that way because he was on the football team and popular. He had somewhat of a troublesome reputation.

People knew where he went, trouble followed.

You, on the other hand, came from a somewhat above average family. Your mom’s a nurse and dad’s a lawyer. They always had big hopes and dreams for you, for you to go off to Harvard in the fall and follow in your father’s footsteps but you didn’t want that.

You dreamt of being a writer - you couldn't bring yourself to tell your parents that. Since you were young, they had instilled “you’re going to go to Harvard” in you.

You couldn’t back out now.

See, high school worked a certain way. You kept to your circles and didn’t mingle with those that didn’t fit into your circle. You and Evan didn’t run in the same circle - he was a troublesome jock and you were a smart preppy girl.

Being the preppy kid meant volunteering where you could to bulk up your college application hence why you were at school on a Friday afternoon, waiting for the kids to show up. You were part of some tutor program that your chemistry teacher put you into.

It was mostly just kids that needed some clarification on their work and the occasional jock that needed to pass a course to stay on the team.

You weren't surprised when a group of noisy jocks stumbled in the study hall, reeking of sweat from practice.

You were surprised to see Evan, he hadn't been in there before.

“Settle down boys” Mrs. Jacobs told them before sending each guy off to a tutor, leaving Evan standing beside her. “You can head over to y/n” she pointed at you, you gave him a small smile when you glanced up. He looked unpleasant, like he didn’t want to be there.

He made his way over nonetheless. “Good afternoon” you say quietly, unsure if he heard you. He grumbles a hello as he sits down.

The first few minutes, it was quiet. He sat there flipping through his textbook and scribbling down answers into the notebook in front of him.

“Is there anything I can help you-” “I'm not stupid.”

You glance at him, eyes catching his blue ones looking back at you. “I never said you were.”

“I'm only here because I didn’t turn in my mid term project and now stupid Mr. Jefferson thinks I don't understand this shit” he explains himself.

You hum, glancing down at the notebook in front of him, pulling it towards you. Reading over the sheet, all the answers were right. A hum of satisfaction slips pass your lips as you slide the notebook back over to him.

“Not just another dumb jock then.” your eyes study his face after the statement. His lips curl into a small smile, a hum as he turns his attention back to his paper.

“So prep life must be dull - no parties, all study.”

“Who says prep kids don't party ?”

He chuckles, “maybe the lack of prep kids at the parties.” “I’ll have you know, I party plenty, Evan.”

Once again, he chuckles. “The phrasing of that statement shows that you clearly don’t- but call me Buck, all the guys do.” he slides the notebook over to you.

“Check this over, I'll be back” you watched as he stepped out of the study hall and disappeared into the hallway.

A few minutes pass by, you’re tired and in need of a nap but you blink away the tiredness to read his work. There’s a voice behind you and then you feel something heavy on your chair. Leaning back to figure out what it was, the back of your head hit something hard. You shift in your seat and look up to see your head has hit Buck’s torso.

“How's the work, peach ?” his voice is low, the drop in octave from before causes butterflies in your stomach.

Your brows furrow at the nickname, he noticed your confusion and glances down at your top and your eyes follow his only to see that your peach colour bra was sticking out from the top of your shirt.

You had stretched back into your seat when he stepped out and you hadn't noticed the shift in your clothing.

Pulling the top of your shirt back up, he smiles and returns to his seat. You clear your throat, head down and eyes on the work in front of you as you could feel the blush on your face.

“Um, the work is fine.”

“Do you have plans tonight ?”

“No, why?”

“Come with me to Johnson’s party, you can show me how prep kids party” he smiles, his words are teasing you- taunting you even. “I would, but my parents are out of town so I don’t have the car and I have to watch the house.”

“The house won’t disappear if you’re gone for a few hours and I'll pick you up then. What’s your address ?”

“Buck, I really shouldn't”

“Y/n, come on. Pull the stick out your ass for one night and enjoy senior year. You can go back to Harvard prep tomorrow.”

His word choice doesn't shock you, it’s quite on brand for him. He’s looking at you, waiting for your answer and you can't help but give in.

Taking the pen from him, you scribble your address and number on his notebook. “See you at 7?” picking your bag up before slinging it over your shoulder.

“7? Peach, the party doesn’t start ‘till 9. I’ll pick you up at 10:30.”

“Oh um- okay.” you hum, confused but you agree anyways.

---

10:45 and you were sitting on your couch, glancing at your phone and back to the window.

You had been stood up once before but to be stood up by a jock, and a popular one ? Will be the death of any social life you had.

Finally there’s a knock on your door and you get up a little faster than you would have liked but you make your way over. Pulling it open, you met with Buck.

“Ready ?”

“Sure, let me grab my phone” you leave the door open, stepping back to the couch. Buck had disappeared from the doorway when you returned, you locked up and followed what looked like headlights to the driveway.

Buck sat on his bike, he scoots forwards a bit before patting the space behind him.

“No.” you mumble.

“What ?”

“I’m not getting on that thing.”

“That thing ? I'm offended. Come on, you’ll be fine.”

“Evan, no.”

Buck gets up, making his way over to you. His hands grab yours, looking at you now. “Y/n, I promise you that you’ll be fine. Can we go now ?”

“I’ll kill you if something happens to you” you grumbled as you reluctantly made your way over to the bike. Buck gets on first, you mirror his actions. Your hands were to your side, Buck reached back and wrapped them around his waist.

“You good back there ?”

“As good as I could be.”

The house, who you assumed belonged to Johnson’s parents, (you had no idea who Johnson was because you barely ever went to the football games) reeked of alcohol and weed.

Your face didn’t hide your displeasure as well as you thought it had. Buck chuckled as he slung his arm over your shoulder.

“So is this what you do ?” you shout over the loud music, Buck was saying hello to someone he knew and wasn't paying attention to what you had asked him.

You manage to wiggle your way out of his grip and find your way to the kitchen. It’s a few minutes later that Buck finds you sipping on a beer.

“You drink ?” he gives you a questionable look with a smile on his face.

“You brought me to a party so I'll do what people do at a party” you hum, leaning back against the counter. He finds his way to you, leaning back against the counter too.

“Enjoying the party ?”

“Not really, you kinda left me to talk to some guy for twenty minutes”

“That guy happens to be our star quarterback.”

“I care why?” you glance up at him. Buck’s face is pure amusement, you aren't sure if you’re the cause of that or something else but the way he's looking at you- you can feel the butterflies again.

“Buck!” a group of guys shout as they make their way into the kitchen. They all say hello to him, some are drinking, some are shoving chips into their mouths.

You stay quiet while Buck talks to them and judging by their varsity jackets, it was safe to assume that they were on the team with Buck.

“Who’s your friend ?” a brunette guy asks him, stepping towards you.

“I’m y/n, you are?” you ask before Buck could.

“Mike, call me Johnson.”

“Oh, so this is your place ? Cute house” you give him a smile, he laughs.

“How do you know Buck?” Johnson asks, he was nosy for a drunk guy.

“Just bumped into each other, we have class together” you lie, not sure if Buck wanted them to know how you really met, Buck gives you a small smile.

“You’re pretty, how about a dance ?” his hand grabs yours.

“Thanks but no thanks” you give a polite smile before pulling your hand away.

Johnson takes a step forward, his hand reaching out and grabbing your hip. “C’mon, dance with me” you could smell the alcohol on him- he reeked. You push his hand off, “I said no thank you” you tell him once more, being ever so polite.

“Y/n, c’mon, one dance baby” he takes another step, he’s now face to face with you. Before you could say anything, Buck is in front of you, between you and Johnson.

“Dude, she said no. Leave her alone.”

Buck’s sudden need to protect you was much appreciated. Usually if a guy did that, especially a jock, you’d be weird out because they never pay attention to you- but Buck, you had this indescribable feeling, pride, satisfaction, maybe even relief ?

“She’s not even your girl, why are you protecting her?”

“Doesn’t matter, she said no so get out of her fucking face.” Buck’s hand was against his chest, pushing him away as his other hand reached back for yours. It would be cheesy to say that your hand fit in his like it was made to be there but it was true.

Buck’s hand was still in yours as he pulled you out the back door. Your back was up against the wall as he stood in front of you.

“Are you okay ?” you could hear the concern in his voice - different from his usual tone.

At a loss for words, his eyes study your face. Johnson was a douche and he knew that, he mentally cursed himself for even bringing you here.

“Y/n.. talk to me” he takes a step towards you.

“Buck,” your hand presses against his chest, “I'm fine. It’s not the first time a drunk guy has hit on me”

A breath of relief slipped past his lips, “do you want to leave?” his face softens when he asks. “No, I'm alright.”

“Stay here, I'll be back” his hand comes down and squeezes your waist gently before he steps back into the house.

It was a while before Buck returned. He had disappeared into the house for half an hour and when he returned, you were by the pool with a pingpong ball in hand.

“Suck it!” your loud laugh filled his ears, you took a sip from the red cup in your hand and you watched as the guy across from you drank the beer in the cup that the ball landed in.

“Looks like you’re having fun” Buck smiles, now beside you.

“Hey!” you reeked of beer at this point. “I’m having fun” your words come out in a slurred mumble.

“Mhm okay, I think it’s time to head home” Buck takes the cup from you and sets it down.

“What ?” Your hand reaches for the cup again, a pout evident on your face.

Buck’s hands finds your waist, hoisting you up and over his shoulder. A louder than expected gasp left your mouth, you felt the cold breeze against your legs as he walked towards the front of the yard.

He put you down in the backseat of a car but you knew you came with his bike so you were confused, just as you go to ask, he scoots you over and gets in the back with you. Buck’s arm is over your shoulder, you’re so tired that you just lean into him.

You had noticed you fell asleep and when you woke, you were on the porch swing at your house with Buck’s hand in your pocket.

“Whatcha looking for?” he glances up at you when he hears your voice.

“Keys.”

“Other pocket”

He manages to find the keys and get the door open. Getting you in the house was another story. “Y/n, come on” he pulls your hands in an attempt to get you up but you weren’t budging.

What happened to you being a prep kid and not drinking ? He didn’t even think it was possible to get drunk that fast.

“No, tired” you mumbles, making yourself comfortable on the porch swing. “Do you want your parents to come home and find you here? I’m cool with leaving you here if that’s the case” Buck teased, he had no idea when your parents were coming home.

The mention of your parents finding you outside, drunk, horrified you. You got up so quick, you nearly toppled over. Buck helped you inside and onto the couch. He disappeared for a moment and then returned with a glass of water.

“Small sips” he settles beside you, watching as you take a sip. You hum, resting your head on his shoulder as his arm comes over your shoulder.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

He felt your head shift, now looking up at him, eyes full of sleep. You were studying his face, from the birthmark above his eye to his pink lips.

“I really like you, you know” your words filled with sleep as your eyes drooped, you blinked a few times, forcing yourself to stay awake.

Buck chuckles, “that’ll pass peach, I’m just a phase.” He hummed quietly, fingers running through your hair as you drift to sleep.

The Monday after the party, you saw Buck in the hallway after waking up to an empty house on the couch, head pounding even in the deafening silence and and you can’t quite remember how you got home.

Buck had been radio silence since then but you weren't sure why. He was walking in from the front doors and you were by your locker. You turn to speak to him but he barely glances at you before continuing his conversation with Johnson.

From that day, you never spoke to Buck again. Last you saw him was graduation day and last you had heard was that he was in college and you were headed off to Harvard.

----

Present.

You had become a big shot lawyer, everything your parents wanted. Moved out to LA to start your own firm and everything was going well until this morning.

You had barely walked into the office when the fire alarm went off. The sudden alarm caused an onset of commotion in the office, the woman next to you bumped into you, spilling your hot cup of coffee onto you.

She mumbled a sorry as she passed but you could feel the heat coming from where the liquid had spilt. Nonetheless, you made your way out, the sound of the sirens from fire trucks blaring.

Not that you didn’t enjoy seeing the handsome firefighters (or so your co-workers seem to say) but you had a ton of paperwork to do for an upcoming case you had and you barely started.

You stood by the curb, watching as the firefighters made their way over to the crowd and into the building to clear it.

“Ma'am ?” A firefighter made his way over to you, there was a helmet in his hand as he passed a hand through his hair. You glance up from your phone, to see what he wanted.

“May I take a look?” his eyes shifted to your chest where there is currently a coffee stain on your white shirt. “Oh, thank you but no. I’m fine”

“Are you sure? Because that’ll leave a pretty nasty mark if you don't get it cleaned. If you aren’t comfortable, we have a female medic” he offered, hoping you’d consider.

“You’re a medic ?” you asked, looking him up and down. He nods, taking a step back. He begins walking back to the ambulance and you follow him. “Do you want me to get her?”

“No, you’re a professional, it’s cool” you give him a small smile before moving your shirt so he could check.

The firefighter’s hand was now right under your collarbone, dabbing at your skin with some gauze. His fingers were cold, you weren’t sure if it was actually his fingers or the gloves that were cold but either way you looked at him.

“What’s your name ?”

“Diaz, Eddie Diaz” he tells you, flashing you a smile before going back to his job.

You hum, staying still as Eddie rubs something on your skin.

That’s when you saw him.

The same blue eyes, the same blonde hair, the same gorgeous smile that always played in your mind. Not a day went by that you didn’t think of him. You had always wondered what he ended up doing, he was smart and destined for great things, there was more for him than a small life in a place where no one ever really did anything.

Every guy you had dated, you compared to him. It was always something- they didn’t look like him, they didn’t act like him, they didn’t treat you the way he did, they wouldn't stand up for you like he did.

He lived rent free in your mind.

“Ma'am?” Eddie’s voice broke your gaze. “Y/n,” you corrected him, “ma’am is for old women” your eyes going back to Buck. Eddie noticed your lack of attention and followed your gaze.

“Do you know Buck?”

“He still lets people call him that ?” you chuckle to yourself, feeling Eddie’s eyes burning a hole into you.

Before you could answer, his radio buzzed before a voice came through, “building’s clear. Start directing people back in.” Eddie looks over at you, you’re already getting out of the ambulance.

“Keep that clean and dry” were his last words to you after you left.

---

It wasn’t until you were back in the building that you realized your phone was in the ambulance.

You were majorly screwed.

Remembering the medic’s name which was the only thing you remember mids the confusion and seeing Buck after 10+ years. You asked around the office if anyone knew what station responded to the call. You had contacts that worked for the city but the lack of phone made it hard for you to call and find out.

Finally giving in, you google the medic’s name. There were a few articles that had photos but none of them said anything that helped. There was a video from Taylor Kelly at channel 8 news, some sort of video about the fire station.

Station 118- that was 10 minutes down the road and you pass it everyday on the way to work. The thoughts began filling your head, had Buck been there all along?

12 years- 12 long, empty years that you acted like he didn’t exist and that you didn’t want to know what happened between you two but he was right down the road.

You didn’t even know if you wanted to talk to him. You had finally come to peace with it even though a part of you will always long for what could have been. Feelings aside, you set out to the station to get your phone.

Upon arriving, there were a few guys by the trucks. You asked for Eddie, assuming that he might have an idea of where your phone ended up or if they even found it.

“Up the stairs and he should be somewhere up there” the guy pointed, you thanked him before heading towards the stairs. When you got upstairs, it was empty.

You weren't sure if you should go back down or wait so you sort of awkwardly stood there, glancing around the room. The station was nicer than you had imagined it to be, not that you really had an idea of what to expect.

Your back was to the kitchen when someone tapped your shoulder. “Can I help you?” his voice called out as you turned.

Buck.

You let out a breath, your eyes studying his perfect face for a moment. Do you say something or just pretend like you didn’t know him?

“Yeah, I'm uh- I'm looking for Eddie. I think I left my phone in the ambulance.”

“Do I know you from somewhere ?”

“I work at the building down the road, 14th street. You guys were there earlier, hence the phone in the ambulance” you tell him, hoping he drops the topic.

“Y/n! Hey! What are you doing here?” You see Eddie call from behind Buck.

Thank god.

“I left my phone in the ambulance. I figured you’d know what happened to it” you’ve stepped past Buck and towards Eddie now. “I haven’t seen it, but maybe it’s still in there. Come with me, we can check for it”

Eddie was making his way down the stairs and you were behind him when Buck called your name.

Not y/n.

Peach.

You paused, taking a deep breath in before turning to face him. “I thought I remembered you from somewhere” he smiled, him and his stupid smile.

“I’m in a rush, Evan. Plus, I'm not in the mood to reminisce.”

The smile dropped from his face, the guilt crept up on you. The feeling of your stomach twisting, sighing before making your way down to Eddie who was by the ambulance, your phone in hand.

“There’s more to the story than I thought,” Eddie hands the phone over, you give him a hum and thank him. “Let me walk you out.” he follows you out to your car.

“You know, whatever he did- he’s changed. He’s a good guy.” Eddie says, his voice sincere.

“I know, I just- I don't know”

“What did he do? If I can ask”

“We were- I don't know what we were. We hung out in high school, just once but he was different from the other guys. He genuinely cared. We went to a party together and he brought me home after. I remember falling asleep with him in the house and the next morning he was gone. Total radio silence that whole weekend and when I saw him at school the following week, he acted like he didn’t know me - it was like that for the rest of senior year. We never spoke after that.”

Here you were pouring your heart out to a firefighter who you had only met an hour ago who also had seen your bare chest (in a professional way, of course) on a Tuesday morning in the parking lot.

“Wow- I can see why you wouldn’t want to talk to him.”

“Yeah, thank you for the phone though. I gotta get back to work”

“Wait, let me get your number”

You pause, looking at him with furrowed brows. He seemed confused then he realized how that sounded. “Oh god- no not like that, sorry. I meant maybe we could grab a drink sometimes, as friends and maybe you could tell me more about high school Buck ?”

“Um- yes to the number and drinks but I don’t know about Buck” you hand the phone back over to him, telling him that you’d text him.

---

It was a while before you heard from Eddie, he said he was off on Saturday if you were up for drinks and weren't busy. The whole team was going out but he invited you along to join them.

After some back and forth “I couldn't intrude” and “you won’t be, come join us” you finally gave in.

Now it’s 9pm and you, Eddie and Buck are sitting at a booth. Coincidentally, everyone else was busy. Chimney and Hen who you hadn’t met yet, were with their significant others and kids. So that left the 3 of you together.

You wanted to walk back out when you saw it was only the two of them but Eddie had seen you and called you over. His phone buzzed just as Buck came back with drinks.

“Everything okay?” Buck asked his friend, Eddie, still typing away on his phone. “Huh? Yeah, it’s Carla. Chris is running a fever” you could hear the concern in his voice.

“Chris is your son?”

“Yeah- I'm sorry I got to go. I’ll make it up to you. Drinks on me another night” Eddie gave your shoulder a squeeze as he stood.

“No yeah, of course. Go, it’s fine” you smiled.

“Let me know if you need anything” Buck shifts towards Eddie, the two of them seem to have some sort of routine or way of how things work between them.

And now there were two.

Buck sipped on his beer, you sat across from him, your nails tapping against the bottle in front of you. He was the first one to speak.

“So, how have you been?”

“Good. You?”

“Good too. I don’t know if you remember my sister but she had a baby recently so I've been hanging out with her after work”

“Oh, that’s nice. Maddie right?”

“Yeah, she had a little girl. She’s the cutest little girl ever.” Buck pulls his phone out, showing you a photo of him holding a baby in a blanket with a brunette beside him. The woman beside him, Maddie you assumed, was smiling at Buck, fixing the blanket while he looked at the camera, the joy evident on his face.

“She’s adorable and your sister looks the same, she hasn’t aged a day” you hum, passing the phone over to him.

Back to awkward silence.

“What happened to us?” Buck’s question catches you off guard.

“What happened to us? You happened.”

“What? I thought we were friends.” Your eyes met, his full of confusion and yours with displeasure.

“Friends don’t disappear in the middle of the night with no explanation and ignore them for the rest of senior year.” You get up, grab your phone and make your way to the door. Buck’s calling out to you but you don’t want to stop and talk to him.

The night was cold, the wind hit your bare shoulders and you shivered for a moment before walking. Buck was still calling out your name, he had followed you out the bar.

“Y/n! Stop! Y/n, c’mon. Please!” His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place. You pull your hand back.

“No! You don’t get to do that. Act like everything is fine when you disappeared with no explanation. I know we weren’t best friends but I thought we were at least friends. That fucking hurt, Evan.”

“Fine,” he sighs, looking at you. “You want the truth ?” Your brows raised, waiting for him to continue.

“You told me you liked me. You were a good kid, going to Harvard, which you obviously did” gesturing at you, he continued. “I didn’t know what I wanted and I didn’t want you to feel like you needed to be by my side until I figured it out. I knew you would resent me for that and I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t do it to myself.”

“That’s selfish. It’s about you ? That’s why you left with no explanation ? You couldn’t do it to yourself ? Man the fuck up Buck, life isn’t about you.”

“You think I don’t know that ?! You think I didn’t think about you all the time? That I didn’t miss you?”

“Don’t start with that shit. You knew where I would be. You said it yourself, I was “a good kid, going to Harvard” so if you really missed me, you could have found me.”

“Y/n, be real. We were just out of high school, what means did I have to go searching for you? I had my own shit to deal with.”

“Just stop, I don’t even want to know.”

“No, you stop”

“No you.”

“Y/n” his voice was stern, the annoyance clearly there.

“Evan.” your tone matched his.

That stupid smug smile of his was on his face, that was enough to make you roll your eyes. “’Kay, I'm over your shit.” turning away from him, you go to walk away but his hand grabs yours.

Still fit like it was made to be there.

Before you could register what was happening, Buck’s lips were on yours. Maybe time stopped when Buck’s lips met yours but your heart didn’t- it felt like it was beating a million times seconds and the butterflies in your stomach were restless.

It wasn't clear to either of you at the moment that it had started pouring rain but it didn’t matter. There was this raw emotion in the way his hands felt on your waist or how his chest was pressed to yours.

Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t open his eyes slightly, sneaking a guilty peek at you just to make sure you weren’t a fiction of his imagination. Every breath he took smelt of lavender and honey, the same scent that had lingered on his mind since the day he met you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible.

Maybe this was meant to be, fate bringing back what was meant for him to him or maybe this really was all a fabrication of his imagination but he wanted to live in his moment forever.

It wasn't until thunder rumbled that he pulled away. The rain had soaked your clothes and hair, your makeup had smudged and half of your lipstick was on Buck.

The same stupid smug smile on his face.

“God,” rolling your eyes at him. “You’re so annoying.” wiping your lips with the back on your hand, hoping that you got all the lipstick off.

“Yeah, I'm the annoying one” Buck’s face twisted, giving you a playful shove as you stepped towards him. Your thumb comes up to wipe the lipstick off him. Buck’s arm lifts, now over your shoulder.

The two of you looked at each other as you made your way down the street.

“Just a phase huh ?” you hum, glancing at Buck.

The blonde let out a chuckle, “maybe not.”

---

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meowniee · 3 years ago

Text

Lee Taeyong - One Shot

Pairing: Female Reader (photographer) x Lee Taeyong (idol)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4,2k

Synopsis: Who would have thought that doing a photo shoot with NCT would lead you to stay after your working hours in a room alone with Taeyong...

You were already asleep when you got a call from your boss. One of the photographers who would be working tomorrow had gotten sick and he needed you to go to work in her place. You had been hired a few months ago, but you hadn't worked on any major projects yet, even though your experience in the field is impeccable. He asked you to arrive early tomorrow at the film set and your colleague would explain all the work. You were so excited, it would be your first opportunity to show your talent, whatever job it was.

You could barely sleep and ended up waking up earlier than you needed to. You chose a comfortable outfit, pants and shirt, ate your favorite breakfast, did some very basic makeup, highlighting your cute lips, and went out to the photo set. The day was beautiful with a very blue sky and a shining sun. It was almost 10 am when you arrived at the luxurious hotel where the photos would be. At the entrance, your colleague was waiting for you with an iced coffee in each hand. You greeted each other quickly, thanking her for the coffee, and headed into the hotel, picking up your credentials at the lobby. On the way to the main hall, she explained to you that they would have a big crew today because they were going to photograph a famous K-pop group, NCT127. Each photographer would be responsible for one of them during the individual photos, and the photos would be taken in a hotel room according to the aesthetic that each one wanted. She told you that you would be responsible for Taeyong, the leader of the group. You were shocked. You were just replacing the sick photographer and were you responsible for none other than the GROUP LEADER? “Don't worry, he's an experienced idol. He'll help you with whatever you need. He's also a sweetheart, rest assured”, she said, patting your arm. You sighed in relief. You need to do your best today to take your best pictures. You knew Taeyong and how perfect he was in the photos. His features were sharp and his gaze was deep, the best set for a good model.

It didn't take long for all the photographers and directors to arrive, preparing their cameras, lights and scenery, reviewing the positions and space around them. The beats of their music echoed faintly through the hall. You heard rumbles coming from the entrance to the hall and turned to see what was going on. The boys had arrived along with their security guards and managers. They were mostly in sweats and comfortable clothes, clearly without the luxurious outfits prepared for the photos. Some messy hair, sleepy eyes and yawns accompanied their expression, but that didn't stop you from noticing how beautiful they were. Extremely beautiful. They were talking to each other, sipping their coffee, laughing and settling down next to the staff members. The blonde one, Taeyong, stood in front of them, ceasing their conversation. They greeted all of the staff, bowing and smiling. The director took the lead and made the general introductions. "We will have a team responsible for each member to optimize the work today. Please direct each member to their workstation to begin preparations". He called one name at a time, redirecting the boys to their teams. The makeup artists and hairdressers started to work, preparing their looks according to the references they had received. You stood a little away from him, a little embarrassed, holding your camera. You didn't want to take pictures of him without makeup, respecting his personal space, so you waited until the stylists had finished. He was perfect now, with his hair straight and his makeup done. Soft pink lips emphasized the shape. He was fiddling with his cell phone, waiting for the moment to go change. You approached slowly. “Hi Mr. Lee… I’m Y/n. I am your photographer today”, you introduced yourself, bending a little and unable to look at him. “Hey! Nice to meet you.”. You raised your eyes a little to see him. He was smiling and waving his hand. “I didn't know you. Are you new here?”, he asked. “Yes… Hm… I'm replacing a colleague who couldn't come”, you answered, squeezing your camera in your hands. “If you have any questions or need help, just ask me, okay?”, he smiled and got up to go dress up. You breathed a sigh of relief. You were very nervous and hadn't even realized you weren't breathing properly. He seemed very kind and that made you more relieved.

The group photos were quick. The boys were very professional, they knew exactly what to do, where to look and how to position their bodies. They were very comfortable with the production, playing games with each other but not disturbing each other's work. Everyone's attention was focused on them, always going to fix some hair that was out of place, or some slightly smudged makeup. Words of encouragement from the photographers only made them more excited. You were always watching Taeyong. You needed to learn how he looked at the camera, what angles he preferred and how he liked to pose for pictures. He was the one who looked most comfortable among them all. He wore burgundy pants and a shiny leather jacket, no shirt. Sometimes your eyes locked, making your whole body heat up, and eventually you would shyly look away.

Everyone had lunch at the hotel restaurant and then went to the individual sets. All lights and equipment were mounted. The rooms weren't very big, but the staff was downsized now so you wouldn't have a problem with that. The room had a bed by the window, a sofa across the room, and a rug with wave patterns. The pale colors contrasted with Taeyong's clothes.

Individual photos took longer. Taeyong always stopped to look at the result in the notebook, giving suggestions for light, for angles, praising your photos. You were getting more and more comfortable with him, laughing at the jokes and daring to get closer. “It's almost 7 PM, we should start wrapping up”, you said. He looked at you. “I really want to try some other poses and angles. Y/n, can you stay up a little later?” he asked and you nodded quickly. It was your most important job so far and you would make the most of it. “We won't need the production. You all can go. These photos will be for my personal project. Thank you so much for your hard work today”. He said, turning to the rest of the staff. They thanked and bowed, starting to pack their things and leave the room. You were very happy that he asked you to take more photos for his personal project. So he liked your work, right? You were enjoying working with him too. The conversation and exchange of ideas flowed easily. You quickly understood what he wanted and could reproduce it with your clicks. You had good chemistry together. “I'm going to go down and get my stuff from downstairs and from there we can start, ok?”, you said, opening the door and heading for the elevator. You were very excited... and a little nervous about being alone in a room with him. Quickly grabbing your extra lights and lenses, you went back to the hotel room, thinking of all the angles that could be made there. You knocked on the door before entering. Taeyong had his notebook open, sitting on the couch. The room was cozier now that all the lights were out and there wasn't a lot of equipment in the corners. “I ordered drinks and some snacks for us. We can relax a little while I explain to you what I thought for these photos.”, he said as you put your things down by the couch, sitting on the bed in front of him. “Oh thank you! So… Tell me a little about your project, please”, you asked him. His eyes were shining as he told you about his new album that he produced himself. He was thinking about taking photos to promote digitally. A sexier concept as his songs were very intimate. You really liked everything. He had a very artistic mind and he spoke in a very emotional way.

The snacks arrived and you thanked them, you were starving. At some point you sat next to him on the couch while he showed you pictures he liked, so you could follow the concept. You both finished eating and you got up, “How do you want to start? Maybe on the couch?”, he nodded, crossing his legs and leaning on the sofa, his tiger look appearing again. His duality was incredible. Super cute and adorable off camera, but extremely irresistible on them. His poses were great and you always praised him between them, cheering him on. He lay on his back on the couch, letting his arm fall over the edge, looking directly at you through the camera lens. This was the best photo of the night, for sure. He sat, legs closed, back laying on the couch. If you were your camera right now, you would be melted by his gaze. “Can you take one up close?”, he asked. You positioned yourself very close to his legs, leaning forward to get as close as possible, trying to balance. “You can put your legs around mine. That’s okay”. You did as he said, timidly opening your legs and getting closer to him, his legs between yours. He lay a little more on the couch, flirting with the lenses. Or with you? You didn't know anymore at that point. You tried to get a little closer, but you lost your balance, falling forward. He quickly put his hands around your waist, holding you, making you sit in his lap. “Are you ok?”, he asked. You were so embarrassed, your cheeks were burning. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Thank you”, you whispered. You didn't try to get up and he didn't move either. His hands still gripping your waist, holding you in place. “Maybe a photo this close will be good”, he murmured, lightly squeezing his hands on you. You quickly raised the camera. You thanked you for not having to look him in the eye, but being able to see him through the lens was a really amazing view. You clicked several times, trying to capture the most of the moment. You tightened your thighs around him, getting closer. His hands gently moved down your legs as his gaze traveled over your entire body. He bit his lower lip when you whispered a compliment, letting his head fall back, panting softly. He was enjoying the whole moment, just like you. You took his chin between your fingers and pushed it up, making him face the camera. Your thumb lightly scraping the bitten lip as he opened it slightly. Lowering the camera, you glared into his eyes, pushing your finger slowly between his lips, testing the waters. You let a low moan escape as he ran his tongue over your finger, circling slowly and then closing his lips around it.

Taeyong was so sexy already totally drunk with pleasure underneath you, with labored breathing and huge pupils dilated by arousal. You could almost feel him melt under your touch, giving himself completely. Was this really happening? Or did you hit your head in the elevator and this is all just your mind's creation? The questioning passed quickly when you felt a sharp bite on your finger, pulling you back to reality. Yes, he was there, deliciously sucking your finger like it was the tastiest candy he'd ever had. Putting the camera to one side entirely, you looked deep into his eyes, lifting your head with a defiant look as your fingers tightened inside his mouth, forcing him to open it. He took a deep breath before suddenly grabbing you around the waist and pulling you close to his chest, causing you to lose your balance and fall onto his chest completely, bracing both your hands on the couch behind him. You felt him pushing his hips up against yours just before your lips met. His lips were colder than yours, giving you goosebumps. Quickly devouring each other, the kiss became extremely hot as your tongues twisted against each other, tasting the sweet needy taste. You slipped your hand from his chest, past his neck, into his blonde hair, tangling your fingers in, pressing your mouths even closer, deepening the kiss. A purr resonated through his chest, leaving you extremely excited. He was so responsive to your actions, melting at any gesture, especially when you showed dominance over him.

You let your head fall back, leaving your neck free, guiding Taeyong to kiss you there. Despite the strength of your hand in his hair, he took his time kissing your jaw until he reached the base of your neck, biting and licking near your collarbone. His hands moved up from your hips, working their way under your shirt, reaching the base of your breasts. His hands weren't big, but they hugged your ribs as best they could. Running his hands down your back until he reached your shoulders, he pressed you down, against your prominent volume growing inside his pants, kissing the valley between your breasts through your shirt. You can do nothing but sigh. You grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, letting Taeyong sink between your breasts, kissing them through the lace of your bra as his deft hands opened it from behind. He pulled back for a moment as he slipped the straps over your shoulder, letting the bra fall between you, quickly tossing it to the side. Admiring your bare breasts, he cupped them both in his hands, massaging them gently, playing with your nipples between his fingers, lightly squeezing, earning a moan from you. Looking deep into your eyes, he brought his pink lips near to your nipple, pressing the tip of his tongue around it before capturing it with his mouth. The other one was being pinched and twirled between his fingers. You could feel your arousal making you wet, pooling in the fabric of your panties. You pressed your hips against his, trying to feel him hard against your clothed core.

You were startled when he quickly flipped you over with your back to the couch, sitting you down and pulling your hips closer to the edge. He found the waistband of your pants and pulled it with his fingers along with your panties, leaving you totally naked. His eyes ran all over your body, burning through every part they passed. Spreading your legs, he positioned in the middle as he sought your lips for another hot kiss. He was still fully dressed and it made you a little embarrassed to be undressed. You took advantage of the fact that he was close and started to open the buttons on his leather coat as he sucked your tongue and left bites on your lips. He helped you finish taking off his coat, throwing it somewhere in the room. He took a moment for you to look at him between your legs, standing up, and appreciate his gorgeous torso, now exposed since he wasn't wearing any shirt. He knelt gracefully between your legs, still looking into your eyes, and placed his hands on the inner part of your thigh, forcing you to spread your legs even further so that he could fit his broad shoulders between them. He brought his lips too close to your wet folds, but he didn't touch, just laid there, breathing hot, making you feel how close he was from your core. You grabbed his hair and forced his head against you, which he gladly accepted, flattening his tongue on your cunt. It didn't take long before he was devouring you hungrily, licking up all of your liquid, sucking on your clit and twisting his tongue around it. It felt great and you moaned his name under your breath, trying not to yell at all the neighbors to hear. You felt your orgasm approaching and began to roll your hips, rubbing yourself against his tongue. You couldn't help when your back arched and the wave of heat spilled over your whole body. He didn't stop sucking on your clit, prolonging the sensation of pleasure as your body writhed with each movement. When the sensation started to get painful from overstimulation, he slipped two fingers inside your wet interior, starting to move them curved, reaching the most sensitive point. You were about to ask him to stop when you felt another orgasm coming. His fingers worked fast in and out of your pussy, rubbing your g-spot with precision, while his mouth kissed your super sensitive clit. You felt an incredible pressure taking hold of your uterus, as if your bladder were suddenly too full. You tried to close your legs, but he held you tight, looking you in the eyes, daring you to stay there. You were hit by a high-speed train when your second orgasm came too quickly compared to the previous one. “Fuck…”, you yelled as you heard the louder and wet noises spreading through the room as Taeyong guided you through your moment of ecstasy. When you managed to open your eyes, he was looking at you with a proud smile on his lips. “God…that was really hot…”, he said, bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking each one until there was no juices left. You looked at your legs and saw that they were much wetter than usual. It's been a long time since you last had a squirt. And you were sure this wasn't the first time he's done this with a woman.

You saw his other hand rubbing the volume down his pants. He made you feel so good and now you wanted to return the favor. “Get up”, you asked, signaling with your finger. He immediately got up. Small dark stains covered the front of his burgundy pants, hit by your juices. Both of his hands were clasped behind his back, puffing out his chest and taking a deep breath, waiting for you. You reached for the button on his pants, undoing it slowly as you teased him with your gaze. You slid the zipper down at a slow pace, anticipating your touch on his cock. He was wearing black boxers, which fit perfectly against his body, showing the design of his hard member constrained by the fabric. You dropped his pants on his feet. Taking a firm grip on his ass and squeezing, you brought your lips close to his still-covered volume, sliding your lips over his length. You earned a sigh of appreciation. He didn't tease you, so you wouldn't tease him either. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down, freeing his hard cock. He was wet with pre-cum, glistening in the bedroom light, inviting your mouth to suck it. You took it in your hand, being careful not to put too much pressure, and brought the tip to your lips, giving light kisses around it as you looked at him. His eyes sparkling with anticipation when you stuck your tongue out, gently circling, collecting the pre-cum to taste it. He was so sweet you almost couldn't believe it. You put his whole head in your mouth and increased the pressure on your hand, making him moan louder than before. Sliding down to the end of its length and back, feeling it hit the back of your throat, you started to suck it, your other hand mimicking your movements, but to the opposite side. When your head twisted to the right as you swallowed his length, your hand met twisting to the left. He was moaning hard from pleasure, making you feel proud of your perfect blowjob. You were determined to make him come in your mouth, so you took his balls with your free hand, gently massaging them back and forth as you deepthroated his entire length. You were about to go back when you felt his hand pressing your head further, keeping his cock in your hot throat. You couldn't fight the gag reflex, but he pulled back your head, freeing your throat so you could breathe.

Your lips were all wet with saliva, as was his dick. He pulled your head, making you look at him. "Please… I don't want to come yet…", he begged between sighs. You stood up, hugging his defined waist, quickly spinning him around, causing him to lose his balance and land on the couch. You sat on his lap, positioning your needy pussy on top of his hard cock. Resting your hands on his chest, you started grinding his entire length with your wet folds. He took hold of your hips and helped guide the movement, rolling his eyes back at the wonderful feeling it was like to have you slide past him. “Do you have a condom?”, you asked. He was a little bewildered with pleasure and looked a little startled by the question. “Y-yes…”, he replied, quickly reaching into his wallet and pulling one out. You barely waited for him to finish putting on as you positioned yourself with your entrance to the head of his cock, taking advantage that he was holding it up.

You slid painfully slowly across his length, watching his gaze fixed on where he disappeared inside you. You both moaned low as you reached the end, waiting until your tight walls got used to his size. He cupped both of your breasts, taking one of them in his mouth and kissing it as if it were your lips. You started to roll your hips with his dick deep inside you. “Fuck…”, you both whispered. You couldn't keep it that way for long, so you got up until it almost came out of you, and sank down again. You kept the rhythm steady, enjoying the pleasure inside you. Your brain still didn't seem to process the fact that you were fucking none other than Taeyong. He was really perfect, like he came out of an anime. And he was enjoying being there with you… it made you even more turned out. He started to move his hips too, slamming against you harder, pushing even deeper. You couldn't hold back a shriek of pleasure as it hit so deep you could have sworn you'd feel pain there tomorrow. He kept it deep and strong, the thrusts getting more and more sloppy while the two of you were a moaning mess. Both bodies tense feeling the orgasm approaching, labored breathing filling the room with gasps of air. Grabbing the hair at the back of his head and forcing him away from your sensitive nipple, you captured his lips with yours, still tasting your own juice on his tongue. You could feel your walls tightening and his cock throbbing. You stopped bouncing on him, just focusing on kissing his mouth, but he held your hips in the air, giving him room to move under you, pushing his cock deeper and faster with harder and harder. You dropped your head at the base of his neck, moaning not so low his name as he nibbled and sucked on your neck, increasing your pleasure even further. “Fuck, Taeyong… I’m so close… Please, don’t stop”, you begged this time, holding tight his body against yours. Your words made him fuck you even faster, moaning in a low tone countless curses in your ear. Your orgasm erupted as he licked and bit your earlobe, giving you shivers all over your body, followed by the tingling sensation. Your walls squeezed his cock hard inside you, sucking him in with your pussy. He couldn’t hold it any longer and he's bursted all of his cum into the condom, deep inside you. He didn't stop moving in and out until you were both almost starting to feel pain from overstimulation.

You lay there cuddled together as your bodies rested, restoring your breathing rhythm and heartbeat. This all still didn't feel real. You just had the best sex of your life with… him. You were awakened from your thoughts by his voice in your ear. “Can we take a shower together?”, he asked, his voice so soft he didn't sound like the same person from a few minutes ago. “Only if you wash my hair for me…”, you joked. “Okay, I can do that”, he smiled. He helped you to your feet and went to the bathroom and started getting ready for the shower. “I'll order us something to eat if you don't mind. I'm hungry and I believe you are too”. You nodded as you wrapped yourself in the robe that was in the bedroom. He was being so adorable and caring. In fact, you wouldn't expect him to just send you away after having melted under your touch so easily. He was a gentleman and he was making you feel special right now.

The shower was fun and he let you do various hairstyles with the shampoo bubbles in his hair. Also the timing was perfect. As soon as you guys got out of the shower and wrapped yourself in your hotel robes, the food he ordered arrived in your room. Both of you ate while he told stories about behind the scenes in the clips and funny situations with other members of the group. He was so easy to talk to and give you pleasure that you could easily fall in love...

#taeyong smut #taeyong #lee taeyong #lee taeyong smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct fanfic

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bellakitse · 4 years ago

Text

To Love is to Know You

“Carlitos got hurt at work,” she whispers, her face pale and frightened. “He got shot, and they are rushing him to the hospital.”

When Carlos gets hurt on the job, his parents find out about the important parts of his life he’s been keeping from them, mainly the man he’s in love with.

Gabriel Reyes' POV

*there is accidental outing in this since this isn’t how Carlos planned on telling his parents.

6.3k

They’ve settled in for the night and are in the middle of watching a movie their son recommended when the phone rings.

“Carlos really likes this?” he questions skeptically as more blood goes spraying across the screen.

His wife chuckles at his tone even as she winces at the scream the protagonist lets out for the 100th time.

“He’s young, Gabriel. I don’t think we’re actually supposed to like what Carlitos likes,” she tells him as she leans across the couch, reaching for her phone. She turns to him with a smile as she shows him the caller ID. “Hablando del diablo,” she says fondly before pressing talk on their son calling.

“Tell him I’m questioning his choices,” Gabriel jokes, pausing the movie as Andrea says hello with a smile. He watches as that smile quickly drops, his heart seizing in his throat as she lets out a gasp and a shaky ‘what?’ to whoever she’s speaking to. It’s obvious now that it’s not their boy.

He waits for her to end the call with a fearful ‘we’ll be there soon’ before she turns to him with tears in her eyes.

Even before she speaks, he knows, and his hands shake as they reach for hers.

“Carlitos got hurt at work,” she whispers, her face pale and frightened. “He got shot, and they are rushing him to the hospital.”

֎֎֎

The drive to the hospital is both short and the longest drive Gabriel Reyes has ever had behind the wheel. Next to him, Andrea grips the rosary his mama gave her after they got married. She doesn’t pray, though, and he thinks she’s too worried to remember any prayer at the moment.

“He’s going to be okay,” he tells her, his voice rougher than he would typically use with his sweetheart, but he can see her starting to spiral, and he needs her to focus on his voice and not on all the troubling thoughts he knows are running through her head at the moment. “Carlos is young and strong. He’s going to be fine, he –”

“Is our baby boy,” she whispers, looking at him with those big brown eyes, so like Carlos’ when he was little, looking at him to make everything okay.

“El va estar bien, amor,” he tells her softly, willing himself to believe it too.

He pulls into the hospital parking lot. They quickly exit the car, holding hands as they rush towards the doors and the front desk. He’s sure they both look a fright as they ask the girl behind the counter for information.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reyes,” calls out a tired voice to them, and when they turn around, they find a familiar-looking young man with brown hair and green eyes standing before them in an EMS uniform.

Gabriel is struck by his eyes. They’re wide, the worry in them plain to see, and it’s obvious he’s been crying by how pink and puffy they are.

“I’ve been waiting for you both; I didn’t want you to get lost,” he tells them, pointing to a door at the far end of the hall to the left. “We’re in there.”

“How’s Carlitos?” his wife asks at the same time as he says. “We’ve met you before.”

“Uh – yes – you have, sir. I’m TK,” he answers with a grimace. Gabriel knows it is the young man’s effort to smile but just can’t. “We met at the farmer’s market about nine months ago.”

TK turns to Andrea, his expression softening instantly. “They took Carlos to the back when we got here, ma’am, but we haven’t heard anything yet.”

“What happened?” he asks TK and is struck again by how expressive his eyes are. Gabriel sees pain, fear, frustration, and anger cross his face.

“We were answering a call to a disturbance; a man was threatening to set fire to his ex-bosses place and was holding them hostage inside. He was armed, so Carlos and the rest of APD went in first,” TK takes a pause, swallowing hard, and Gabriel is struck by how the young man is keeping it together when it’s undeniable that it’s difficult for him to do so. “Shots were exchanged, and the suspect was neutralized but not before he hit Carlos.”

“Where?” he asks, hoping against hope that his son was wearing his vest. TK’s face, scared and apologetic, tells him it doesn’t matter.

“T – the,” TK clears his throat, lifting a hand to run through his hair. Gabriel catches the slight shake of it. It’s not the only thing he spots on them. Though mostly clean, Gabriel notices specks of blood on them. Looking him over once more, he sees some on his uniform too. “The neck, sir.”

Andrea lets out a gasp, bringing her hand to her mouth to try and muffle the sound.

“You worked on him,” Gabriel realizes. He needs to focus on something other than the information they’ve just been given.

“Yes,” TK answers, biting down on his lip to the point that Gabriel wants to wince at how painful it looks. Given the redness of his mouth, the kid has probably been doing it a while now. “My Captain didn’t want it to be me – ” TK stops.

He takes a breath, collecting himself. “We stabilized him on the field and then brought him over. My Captain is here if you want to speak with her while we wait for the doctors.”

They follow the young man down the hall into a private room, and Gabriel is shocked to see how full it is with first responders, most still in uniform like TK. Everyone seems to turn to look at them when they walk in.

“These are Carlos’ parents,” TK explains to the crowd before turning to a tall woman with a sympathetic but no-nonsense look on her face. “Captain Vega, could you – ” he gestures towards them.

The Captain nods, standing from her seat to walk over to them. She has a bag with her that she hands over to TK.

“Nancy brought your stuff from your locker,” she says to the kid with a kind smile. She places her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Why don’t you go change while I speak with Carlos’ parents.”

TK nods, looking relieved. “Yeah, Cap, thanks.” He turns towards them, looking like he wants to say something else but doesn’t. Instead, he gives them a small nod and walks away, leaving them with his Captain.

Gabriel focuses on her, reaching out to hold his wife’s hand as Captain Vega goes through the emergency in more detail. She’s compassionate but honest as she breaks down her assessment of Carlos’s injuries on the scene and their handling of it.

“TK is one of the finest medics I have ever worked with,” she tells them, with something akin to pride in her voice. “And it’s Carlos. He wasn’t about to lose him,” she continues softly, knowing. “We got him here, and they’ve had him in the back for the last hour. I’m sure they’ll come out and tell us something soon. All we can do now is wait, unfortunately.”

“And pray,” Andrea whispers thickly.

“Never a bad idea,” she says with a small, understanding smile. She looks away from them when someone calls her name, an older man in uniform walking towards them.

“Tommy, any word? Where’s TK?” he asks, rushed.

“Nothing yet,” she answers the man whose uniform says, Captain Strand. “And TK is changing. We didn’t want him to still be in the uniform that – “ she pauses, her eyes drifting to them.

“Right,” Captain Strand nods before his blue eyes turn towards them. Gabriel watches as he quickly recognizes who they are. “Mr. and Mrs. Reyes?” he questions, exhaling loudly when he answers him with a nod.

“Owen Strand, TK’s dad,” he says, extending his hand to Andrea first and then him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry it can’t be under better circumstances.”

Gabriel cocks his head at the peculiar comment.

“You work with our son?” Andrea asks politely, probably trying to distract herself from the worry she’s feeling.

“Often,” Owen gives them an honest smile. “He’s one hell of a police officer, good instincts, good head on his shoulders, strong,” he tells them intentionally. “He’s going to come through this just fine.”

Gabriel appreciates the comment, if anything, because it makes Andrea smile for the first time since they heard the news.

“Why don’t we sit down,” Owen continues. “We’re going to be here a while,” he points towards three firefighters with the same 126 insignia he has on his clothes, and they quickly get up, giving them the space. “Maybe we can get you some coffee or tea?”

He shakes his head but nods towards Andrea. “Some tea might be good for your nerves, vieja.”

Andrea nods absently, and Owen turns his head towards the trio who gave them their seats. “Strickland, Marwani, Chavez – “

“On it, Cap,” says the young Latino whose chest tag says, Chavez. “We’ll get for everyone.”

Owen offers the kid a grateful smile. “Get TK a sandwich. I know he hasn’t eaten.”

“He might not want to,” says the other man in the group with a deliberate look.

“We’ll sit on him and force him if we have to,” answers the young woman in the headscarf with a glint in her eyes that tells him she’s not joking. Gabriel watches them leave the room.

“They’re good kids,” Owen comments, catching his gaze. “They care about Carlos very much,” he says with a soft laugh. “Probably because he’s always feeding them when they hang out at his place.”

Andrea smiles at the comment, but Gabriel finds it curious. He doesn’t find it strange that his son would be welcoming. Like his mother, Carlos has always strived to make everyone feel at home. He is just surprised that his son is so close with this particular firehouse and its members.

TK comes back into the room in a hoodie and sweats, looking around. Gabriel watches as his eyes land on them before moving over to his father. He watches as the kid’s shoulders drop at the sight of his dad and quickly makes his way over, almost plowing into him as Captain Strand stands with his arms open, circling them around his boy.

“He’s gonna be okay,” he hears him whisper into his son’s ear. “Carlos wouldn’t leave you, you know that.”

Gabriel takes a sharp breath at the words; he looks over at his wife, seeing that her eyes have gone wide as she stares at the father and son with a newfound gaze, and he knows she’s caught it too.

Before they can come to terms with what it might mean, a doctor in green-colored scrubs walks in with a manila folder in hand. “I’m looking for Officer Reyes’ family?” he questions, startling as everyone stands or looks over at him.

Gabriel is surprised himself but warmed by the idea that so many people care about his son. “Over here,” he calls the doctor over. “We’re his parents.”

The doctor nods in response, crossing the distance between them until he’s standing in front of them, TK and his father joining in. “We’ve stabilized your son enough to move him,” the doctor starts. “He’s in the O.R. now; we’re repairing the damage. He was lucky that the bullet didn’t hit his carotid artery.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Andrea rushes to ask, fear coloring her question.

“We’re doing everything we can, ma’am,” the doctor answers softly with a sympathetic look. “He’s holding strong and was brought in quickly.”

“When can we see him?” he asks, his heart dropping at the shake of the doctor’s head.

“It’s going to be a while,” he answers. “We’re not sure how long it will be in the O.R., and then in recovery, it’s going to be a couple of hours.”

Gabriel feels the room deflate around him at the answer and feels the same.

“For now, I need his next of kin to sign off on some waivers,” the doctor continues as he looks inside his folder, reading out of it. “Who is Tyler Kennedy Strand?” he asks, the question filling the room with sudden tension.

“Uhh – me,” TK stammers, his eyes going to him and Andrea awkwardly. “But his parents – “

The doctor cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Officer Reyes’ work forms have you as the one with the power of attorney over any medical decisions on his behalf. You are aware of this, yes?”

TK looks pained and uncomfortable, apologetic even as he looks at Andrea before nodding. “Yes,” he says softly. “Carlos and I spoke about it a few months ago.”

“Then I need you to come with me, Mr. Strand,” the doctor answers, his eyes shifting over to them as well. “It’s just a formality, you understand.”

TK nods again, gesturing for the doctor to go first, following him out of the room, leaving the rest of them in silence, and he and Andrea stunned.

“They’re involved,” he states, not sure to who, but he catches Captain Strand’s slight wince.

“TK will explain when he comes back in,” he assures them, though Gabriel isn’t sure what he would have to explain. It’s pretty obvious the kid is someone important enough to his son that he would leave him in charge of his care if anything happened to him, and he and his wife know nothing about him.

Andrea reaches for his hand. When he looks at her, he sees the same confusion and hurt in her eyes he’s feeling. He squeezes it reassuringly as they retake their seats, neither knowing what to say.

They stay like that, silently waiting for TK or the doctor to come back. Owen walks away from them, drifting towards the other Captain.

After a few minutes, the ones who walk in are the trio of firefighters the Captain sent out for a snack.

“Te de manzanilla,” Chavez says with a boyish smile as he hands the cup of tea to Andrea. “My Abuela says it’s good for nerves.”

Andrea takes it but doesn’t drink right away. “Thank you – um?”

“Oh! I’m Mateo,” he answers before pointing at the other two who are finishing handing out bottles of water and coffees. “That’s Paul and Marjan. We’re friends of Carlos,” he says with another friendly smile as they come over to them.

“Nice to meet you all,” Andrea answers, elbowing him in the side to do the same.

Gabriel checks out, his mind drifting while his wife picks up the slack and chats with the trio, exchanging small talk. He only tunes in when Mateo asks about their new filly.

“You know about Sally?” he questions, frowning, confused. He gets a few nods from all of them and smiles.

“Carlos showed us pictures of her the last time we were over at his and TK’s place for dinner.”

Gabriel can’t help the sharp breath he takes at the comment.

“They live together?” Andrea asks, shocked, her voice above a whisper.

“Oh,” Paul says softly, his eyes widening with realization at their lack of knowledge. He exchanges worried looks with the young woman Mateo called Marjan. Both open their mouth as if to speak and then stop at a loss for words. Luckily for them, TK walks back into the room, making his way towards them.

“Guys, could you give me a second with Mr. and Mrs. Reyes?” he asks politely but firmly.

“Yeah, of course, man,” Paul says quickly, while Marjan tugs on Mateo to stand, moving away. Paul starts to follow them, only to stop and look at TK, speaking again with an apologetic look on his face. “We’re sorry, we didn’t know – “

TK waves him off, a half a smile on his tired face. “Don’t worry about it, Paul.”

Paul gives him a nod, looks at them, and nods again before walking away.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” TK tells them softly, biting down on his lip for a moment before taking a breath, straightening his shoulders. “I’ll do my best to answer them. Should we find somewhere a little more private?”

He looks over at his wife and finds her studying TK with a curious eye. He’s not surprised. He’s more than curious himself about this man who is important enough in his son’s life to be making decisions of life and death for him and apparently living with him. “I think that might be best.”

TK nods mostly to himself, motioning for them to follow him.

He leads them out into the hallway and into another room that Gabriel realizes is the chapel.

“Is this okay?” TK questions nervously. “I don’t want to be disrespectful,” he gestures towards the altar.

“It’s fine, TK,” Andrea assures him.

They take a seat together towards the back of the room, TK sitting across from them.

Nobody says anything for a long moment. He sits watching TK as he taps his foot, and Andrea plays with her hands, struck by the similar nervous motions. He recognizes as TK looks at them with a worried wrinkle between his brow, he doesn’t know where to start, and Gabriel is struck by how young he looks like this. It reminds him of Carlos’ nervous habits growing up, so concerned with disappointing them.

“How long have you and our son been together?” he questions, ripping off the bandaid.

“We’ve been dating for over a year,” he answers honestly, wincing when Andrea lets out a shocked sound. “But we’ve known each other for over a year and a half. It took a while for us to get – us, right.”

“A year?” Andrea questions, surprised and more than a little sad. “He’s kept this from us for a year?”

“He didn’t mean to,” TK rushes to explain – to defend their son to them, Gabriel realizes. He stops looking nervous, and Gabriel can honestly feel the wave of protectiveness coming off the young man.

While the part of him that isn’t still shocked at this sudden news is pleased that Carlos has found someone obviously loyal to him, another part of him is at a loss at being someone this young man thinks he needs to protect his son from. It leaves an unpleasant feeling in his stomach he tries to push down before he reacts in a way that he’ll regret later.

“Then what did he mean?” he questions, trying to understand. “Because if you guys have been dating for a year, that means you two were together when we met you at the market, and he called you a friend from work.”

He feels bad as his words cause the kid to flinch, and a small cynical smile twists his lips upward for a second.

“Yeah, that caused a big fight between us,” he answers dryly. “Look, this is something you need to talk about with Carlos when he comes to. We both knew it was a long time coming, and trust me, he’s been working up the nerve to tell you both about us.”

“Why would he need to work up the nerve?” Andrea questions while Gabriel watches as TK’s eyes flash, his hands curling for a moment. He’s struck by the fleeting anger he sees there – at them.

“Because you’re both more traditional, and he didn’t want to rub your noses in our relationship,” he answers tightly, making Andrea gasp.

Gabriel feels his hackles raise at the resentment he hears in the words. “Hey now, you don’t get – “

“Carlos’ own words,” TK interrupts, his voice sharp enough to stop him. TK stops too, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I apologize,” he starts again, his voice calmer. “It’s not my place at all, and Carlos needs to be the one to explain this to you.”

Gabriel exchanges a glance with his wife, letting out a sigh when she gives him a serious look. He turns towards TK again, taking a calming breath of his own. “But he’s not here right now, and we’d like to understand.”

TK lets out a sigh, nodding at them after a moment. “You’re right,” he agrees quietly, running a hand through his hair. “I just really wish he was here, though,” he pauses, the pain and love in his eyes as he speaks striking a core with him. This man loves his son. That much is clear.

“Okay, first things first. Carlos loves you both so much,” he tells them reassuringly. “He speaks of both of you with so much respect and admiration. Please don’t doubt that for one second. He didn’t keep us a secret from you because he doesn’t love or respect you.”

“Then why?” Andrea asks, trying to understand.

TK presses his lips together, giving her a helpless shrug of his shoulder. “Because he was scared of upsetting you, of disturbing the tentative peace that the three of you have had since he rocked your world by telling you he was gay at 17, and then none of you ever spoke about it again. He didn’t want to disappoint you.”

By TK’s expression, Gabriel knows that he hasn’t just spoken with any malice, yet he still feels his words hit him like a punch.

“But – that’s,” he stumbles at a loss for words. “Carlos could never disappoint us,” he looks at Andrea to find her with tears in her eyes. “We love our son.”

TK gives him a smile; it’s kind and understanding. “I don’t doubt that,” he tells them, looking at Andrea. “He’s so easy to love, of course, you love him.”

“You love him,” Andrea says in awe, still crying, but it feels different than before, almost happy in the middle of the hurt.

TK’s eyes fill with tears; they spill over even as he gives them a bright smile. “More than I have ever loved anyone in my life, ma’am. He is everything to me.”

Gabriel hears how much he means it in his voice and instantly remembers something from earlier. “You worked on him at the scene,” he exhales over a dull ache in his chest at the thought. “Jesus Christ, kid, how did you – “

“The worst moment of my life,” TK whispers, losing his smile, his bottom lip trembling. “And life has thrown some curveballs my way,” he inhales deeply in an effort to control his emotions. “But I wasn’t about to lose him, not like that and not now. We have our whole lives ahead of us, and I plan to spend mine with your son.”

Gabriel hears the conviction and the subtle threat he’s issuing them. He’s telling them he’s not going anywhere, and while a small part of him wants to be annoyed at the warning, Gabriel finds himself mostly impressed. He finds himself liking the kid despite the situation.

“You love him so much,” Andrea whispers, shaking her head to herself. Knowing his wife, she’s mourning the fact that they’ve missed out on seeing it. “And he loves you?”

TK nods quickly. “He never lets me doubt it, not for one single second,” he swallows before another smile takes over his face, soft and involuntary. “He’s wonderful.”

“I’m so sorry we’ve missed it,” she tells him, and Gabriel smiles to himself at how easy he can still read her. “It was never our intent to make Carlos feel like he couldn’t share with us his life. When he told us he was gay, yes, it was a surprise, but we never loved him less,” she frowns, letting out a soft breath. “We wanted him to feel like nothing had changed, and instead, we made him feel like he couldn’t talk to us.”

“But he can,” he continues for Andrea, hoping TK will understand.

Andrea nods in agreement. “He can,” she repeats. “We want to be part of the life he’s building with you.”

TK smiles. It’s wobbly but iridescent as it lights up the room. “He – we would like that very much,” he tells them, chuckling softly. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to know you both. You need to tell him when he wakes up.”

Andrea looks fearful again as she turns from TK to him and back again. “What if – “

“No,” TK answers resolutely. He holds out his hand for Andrea, covering it when she places it in his. “Carlos is going to be fine. He’s not leaving us.”

Gabriel watches them hold each other’s hands, his wife taking comfort from the man in love with their son, and hopes, for all their sakes, that he will turn out to be right.

֎֎֎

The next three days are the longest of Gabriel’s life. After over seven hours of surgery and recovery, they’re allowed to see a sleeping Carlos.

If there was any doubt in his mind about TK’s feelings for his son, they’re wiped out the moment he sees him at his bedside. The way he takes his hand in his, holding it for dear life as he whispers in his ear that he loves him and that he’s there, that they all are.

They wait, hours and hours they wait for Carlos to wake up. The doctors tell them the surgery was successful, and now they just have to wait for Carlos’ body to recover enough for him to wake up. They’re not sure when that’ll be.

He walks into his son’s hospital room after taking a call from work to find TK alone with Carlos, his wife nowhere in sight.

“You know, sweetheart, if this is payback for the time I got shot and ended up in a coma, then message received,” TK talks to a sleeping Carlos, bringing his hand to his lips. “You can wake up now because I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You were shot?” he questions, raising an eyebrow, wondering exactly what these two have been through.

TK blinks up at him. He lowers Carlos’ hand but doesn’t let go. “Yeah,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Before Carlos and I officially got together, it was a house disturbance gone wrong, an accident, but I got hit in the chest and ended up in an eight-day coma. Carlos had to sit through it, the eight worse days of his life, he likes to remind me,” he turns back to Carlos, his expression softening. “I really didn’t need to learn the hard way how this feels.”

Gabriel makes a sound at the back of his throat. He takes the seat he’d been occupying next to Andrea, finding her purse still there.

“She went to the restroom and to get something to drink,” TK tells him. “I told her I would stay with Carlos.”

Gabriel nods in understanding, and the room goes quiet as neither says anything else. They both just watch Carlos, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes stray to TK —his focus on Carlos, the way he reaches out to touch his skin like he can’t bear letting him go for a moment for fear he’ll slip away. The last few days, he and Andrea have gotten to know the kid better, along with the rest of his crew.

Their love for each other and their love for Carlos is evident in every gesture and kind word they have to say about him. It still hurts him to know he and Andrea have missed so much. As he laid in bed holding his crying wife, more than a few tears slipped his own eyes at the lost time. Every day that passes, he promises to fix it when his son wakes up.

“You know, when he was around ten, he convinced his cousin to help him up the stallion at the farm,” he starts telling him, lost in the memory. “And this was a rough horse, even I didn’t ride him much, but he got on, and the thing, of course, sent him flying,” he shakes his head to himself. “He was knocked out maybe five minutes, but they were the longest five minutes of my life.”

“Was he okay?” TK questions, concerned even though it obviously turned out okay in the end.

“A fractured arm,” he answers, chuckling. “As soon as the cast was off, he was right back at it – this time bribing the horse with apples, carrots, and beetroots until he won him over. By the end, it would only let Carlos ride him. He was so smug about it, tipping his hat at us as he rode him.”

TK grins from ear to ear. “Tell me there are pictures of him in the hat.”

Gabriel stands, pulling out his wallet. He fishes out an old worn picture, passing it over to TK. He watches as the boy takes gentle care, running his index finger over the image as he smiles down at it.

“Damn, that’s cute,” he murmurs, handing back the picture after a moment longer. “You know, he won me over with patience too.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at the comment, waiting for him to continue.

“When he and I met, I wasn’t in a good place emotionally,” TK starts to tell him as he looks back at Carlos, reaching up to brush his hair back. “I’d gotten out of a relationship that left me messed up, and I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I hurt his feelings at the beginning, and honestly, he should have just cut his losses.”

He looks over at him. “But Carlos doesn’t give up on people, especially when they’re hurting, so he became my friend, someone I could trust with the not-so-great parts of me. He never judged. He just cared about me more, making sure I knew that I was worth the effort even when I wasn’t so sure of that myself,” he smiles as he retakes Carlos’ hand. “He loves me even when I don’t always love myself.”

“I’m sure you do the same for him,” Gabriel answers. Even with Carlos asleep, he’s seen enough to know the two of them genuinely love each other. Now he just wants his son to wake up so he can see it for real.

“I try,” TK answers. “He makes it easy.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive us?” he can’t help but ask, the question playing in his head the last few days as he learned more of the parts of his life Carlos felt the need to keep to himself for their comfort.

TK frowns as he looks at him, shaking his head slowly. “Carlos will tell you there is nothing to forgive. He doesn’t blame you.”

“He should, though,” he can’t help but argue, feeling frustrated, angry tears at the back of his throat. Fear clawing its way back after three days of waiting for his boy to open his eyes and wondering if it will ever happen. “He was 17, a kid, scared but brave as he told us his truth, and while we accepted it at that moment, we didn’t make sure he knew that it would always be okay with us. That’s on us. We should have done better.”

“Do better now, Gabriel,” TK says to him quietly, shrugging his shoulder when he looks at him, his expression nothing but kind. “Forgive yourself, because Carlos never blamed you to begin with, and do better now.”

“Are you always so wise, kid?” he asks, smiling when TK lets out a bark of laughter.

“That is the last word anyone who knows me would use to describe me,” he shakes his head, still giggling. “Usually, it’s stubborn or reckless. Carlos has been known to call me a brat quite a few times,” he says fondly as he looks down at the bed.

“Because you always get your way,” Carlos rasps out, eyes still closed.

Gabriel isn’t sure who’s gasp is louder, his or TK’s as they both stand to get closer.

“Carlos? Sweetheart?” TK asks, cautious but hopeful, and Gabriel holds his breath as he waits to see if Carlos is genuinely back with them.

It takes a minute, maybe two, maybe three, but slowly Carlos opens his eyes.

“Hi, sweetheart,” TK whispers, tears falling even as he smiles widely down at Carlos.

Gabriel watches as his son frowns as he tries to weakly reach up to touch TK’s face. TK helps him, lifting his hand and holding it against his cheek.

“Don’t �� cry, Ty,” Carlos gets out slowly, brushing his thumb under TK’s eye, earning a wet laugh from him.

“I love you so much,” he says to him, and though he’s obviously tired and in pain, the smile Carlos gives TK is the brightest Gabriel has ever seen.

“Love you too, amor,” his son whispers back to his boyfriend, sounding just as hopelessly in love with him. It reminds Gabriel of him and Andrea, and he can’t help the small sound that escapes his throat.

“Dad – “ Carlos says softly, surprised as his eyes find him; they shift back to TK, concern coloring his expression.

“It’s okay, babe. I promise,” TK assures him with a smile as he gives his hand a squeeze.

“It is mijo,” Gabriel tells him, hoping to wipe away the slight fear he sees in his son’s eyes. He never wants to be the cause for that look again.

TK looks over to him, smiling at him reassuringly, and Gabriel remembers what he said to him moments before Carlos woke up. Forgive and be better.

“I’m gonna go find Andrea and a doctor,” TK declares, giving him a nod. He turns back to Carlos, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

TK steps away from Carlos, squeezing Gabriel’s arm as he walks by him before leaving the room, leaving him alone with his son.

Turning back to Carlos, he finds him still looking concerned as he stares at him, and that simply won’t do for him. He shifts over to where TK had been standing, now next to Carlos. “How do you feel?” he questions gently, getting a tiny shrug back.

“Tired,” Carlos gets out, his voice raspy. “Thirsty.”

“Oh! Of course,” Gabriel says quickly, turning to grab the pitcher of water on the bedside counter and a cup. Filling it, he turns back to Carlos, raising his bed a bit before bringing the straw to his lips. “Slowly, mijo.”

Carlos does as he asks, all the while looking at him. After he’s had his fill, Gabriel pulls the cup away, putting it back on the counter. He reaches out to his son, running a hand over his curls like he would do when he was a little boy.

“You scared the hell out of us, kid,” he whispers, swallowing hard as the last couple of days catch up to him. “We were so scared we were gonna lose you.”

Carlos leans into his touch. As he closes his eyes, a tear rolls down his cheek. “Sorry, pop.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Gabriel shakes his head. He takes Carlos’ hand. “These last few days have shown your mom and me how much of your life we have missed, and we’re so sorry.”

“Dad – “ Carlos tries. “I – “

“We messed up, Carlos,” he continues, needing to get it out. “We thought we were keeping things normal by not making a big deal out of you coming out, and instead, what we did was make you believe that you needed to keep parts of your life a secret for us to be comfortable. But our comfort isn’t the most important thing. Your happiness is, and as long as you’re happy, so are we.”

Carlos�� eyes fill with more tears, and Gabriel is struck by how young he seems as he looks up at him hopeful.

“We met your boyfriend,” Gabriel chuckles fondly. “I mean, obviously. He’s pretty special, Carlitos. You picked a good one.”

Carlos laughs. It’s wet from tears but joyful. “I picked the best one.”

Gabriel smiles at the pride he hears in his son’s voice. “We’d like to get to know him, son,” he says. It’s a hope and a request in one. “Your mom and I, we’d like to know him and you,” he swallows hard as his eyes burn. “We love you so much, but loving someone isn’t always knowing them. If it’s okay with you, we’d like a chance to fix that now.”

Carlos stares at him, mouth open, and there is the slightest tremble of his bottom lip.

“Carlitos.”

He and Carlos turn their heads to the door where Andrea and TK stand together. Carlos smiles at his mom, the smile growing when he notices that she’s holding hands with TK.

“Mami,” he says softly.

Andrea walks towards them, tugging TK along with her. Reaching the bed, she reaches out to touch his face. “Baby,” she whispers, shaking her head as she tries not to cry. “Please never scare us like this again.”

Carlos lets out an amused huff, closing his eyes for a second. “I’ll try, Ma.”

“Good,” Andrea grins at him, amused by his tone. “And you better be ready to be smothered for a while. TK and I have been making plans. We’re not letting you out of our sight.”

“We have a shifts chart,” TK teases him, sharing a grin with Andrea.

Gabriel watches with amusement as Carlos looks scared again, this time at the team he sees being created before his very eyes. He laughs, happy and relieved, when Carlos turns to him for support.

“I wouldn’t fight it, kid,” he warns him. “You know how your mother is, and your boyfriend seems just as bad; just accept it. They’re bonded. We all have.”

Carlos looks around at all three of them, the contentment he sees in his son’s expression, a blessing, and Gabriel knows it’s going to be okay. There is still a lot of time that he and Andrea will have to make up for. Conversations that will still need to be had.

But his son is alive; he’s safe, happy, and in love with a good man. He and Andrea haven’t missed it all, and they don’t plan to miss anything else when it comes to their boy ever again.

Carlos grins at him. “I think I’m okay with that, dad.”

Gabriel smiles back. He’s okay with it too.

#911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #tk x carlos #my writing

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years ago

Text

Afternoon Naps (myg + pjm)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jimin x Yoongi Genre: smut Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~5.5k

Tags: Smut, Consensual Somnophilia, Vampires, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Vampire Sex, Vampire Biting/Blood Drinking, Sleeping Medication, Consensual Necrophilia (Technically), Temporary Character Death, Vampire Min Yoongi, Human Park Jimin, Bottom Park Jimin

Summary: Jimin finds out his boyfriend's biggest secret, and reveals his own biggest kink. They realize that this can benefit both of them.

A/N: Fifth Kinktober fic, day 7: somnophlia; this fic is also filling a request from ages ago. @sujigguk requested a fic with “you’re not human”

A/N 2: The fic contains technically necrophilia -- vampire lore in this fic has the vampire "dying" (i.e. heart/breathing stops, body goes cold, rigor mortis sets in) while resting in their coffins. All sexual acts are discussed and consented to by both parties prior to this.

“Jimin!” Yoongi’s voice was sharp… And not all that happy when he opened the door of his apartment. Jimin smiled sheepishly.

“Surprise?” He said softly.

“What are you doing here?”

Yoongi looked tense as he stood in the doorway. From what Jimin could see over his shoulder, his blinds were drawn, and his apartment was still mostly dark. Strange, given it was nearly ten in the morning.

“Did I wake you?”

Yoongi hesitated. “No.”

Jimin’s smile faded a little. “I wanted to come by… It’s been a week.”

“We’ve been texting.”

Jimin’s smile disappeared completely. “I disturbed you. I’m sorry.” He backed up, ready to head down the hall.

“Wait, no, Jimin. Don’t go. You just surprised me, I’m not used to visitors coming by unexpectedly.”

Jimin looked at him, trying to gauge if he was being sincere. Jimin and Yoongi had been dating for nearly six months. It was great. Yoongi was always there for him, their dates were fun, and they never ran out of things to talk about. The sex was mind blowing. Sure, they fought a little, but never a big thing. The one oddity in all their time together… Was that Jimin was never invited to sleep over at Yoongi’s. Yoongi had stayed at Jimin’s a few times, and Jimin had come over once or twice, but never for more than a few minutes.

The last time they were together in person, Jimin had hinted at wanting to stay over at Yoongi’s one night. Yoongi had seemed okay with the idea, but also a bit stiff about it.

“I should have texted,” Jimin finally said.

“Yes,” Yoongi agreed. “But… You’re here, I can spare a few minutes.” He sighed heavily and stepped aside, letting Jimin in.

“Dark,” Jimin commented as he entered. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” He reached out for Yoongi’s head, only to have Yoongi jerk away.

“I’m fine.”

Jimin scowled then, crossing his arms. “What’s wrong with you?”

Yoongi blinked at him.

“You’re acting weird. I’ve been with you half a year, I know when you’re not yourself. What’s wrong?”

“It…” Yoongi’s shoulders sagged. “It’s very hard to explain.”

“Well try. I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark. Literally or figuratively.” Jimin went to flip on a light.

Yoongi grabbed his wrist. His hand was frigid, and his grip was tight. Jimin gasped.

“Don’t.” Yoongi’s voice was sharp.

“Wh… What’s going on? You’re kinda starting to scare me.”

“I don’t mean to.” Yoongi let go of Jimin’s wrist.

“Why are you so cold?” Jimin went forward. Yoongi backed away but Jimin ignored him, grabbing his face. “Jesus, you’re freezing. Are you sick?”

“Not exactly,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Jimin, please…” Yoongi leaned into his touch, his eyes screwed shut. “Please just go home… I promise, I’ll explain everything tonight.”

“No. You can explain right now, Min Yoongi.” Jimin crossed his arms and stood in front of the door, facing Yoongi.

“It’s not easy,” Yoongi muttered. Jimin remained silent. He sighed. “Fine. I… I really wanted us to last.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes, not liking how this was sounding. Yoongi stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I’m a monster.”

“What makes you a monster?” Jimin pressed.

“Fangs? Death? Drinking blood?” Yoongi shrugged. “Any number of things. I mean a literal monster.”

Jimin laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, come on, don’t be silly. Yoongi, what is it really?” He asked. He flicked on the light. Yoongi winced visibly, raising his hand to shield from the indoor light.

Jimin’s entire body went cold. Yoongi was standing in front of him. His Yoongi – lean muscle and a sweet, round face, gentle eyes and guitar callused fingers… But not his Yoongi at the same time. The person in front of him was paler than Yoongi – his face almost grey it was so pale. His eyes were dark. Not just dark, but the pupils seemed to have expanded, filling the whites of his eyes and giving him a demonic gaze.

Yoongi let his hand fall, his expression timid despite the horror his features implied.

“You’re not human,” Jimin whispered.

“I’m a monster,” Yoongi agreed. “A vampire… Specifically.” He looked down. “Are you going to run away screaming now?”

“Make me, you troll,” Jimin grumbled. He let his arms fall and took a cautious step forward.

“I’m a vampire, not a troll.”

Jimin grinned at that, seeing the curve of a smile on Yoongi’s lips. “I’ll get it right eventually… Am I in danger? Standing here like this?”

“No. I have excellent control over my feeding… Why aren’t you scared?” Yoongi looked up, meeting Jimin’s gaze.

“I am.”

“You aren’t showing it… Aside from a fast heartbeat… I can’t see any fear on your pretty face. And your heart beats fast around me all the time.”

Jimin smiled. “Flirting isn’t gonna get you out of the doghouse… Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You’re right.” Yoongi snapped his fingers. “I always forget. When is the right date to tell your new boyfriend you died and came back as a bloodsucking creature of the night? That once a week you have to spend a day in a coffin literally dead or you get wildly sick? Isn’t it the third? Or no, the seventh?”

Jimin slapped Yoongi’s shoulder with some force, smirking when he cried out, rubbing it. “Weak for a vampire.”

“I’m immortal, not immune to my boyfriend’s abuse,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Do you drink blood?”

“Of course I do.”

“Human?”

“When I can.”

“From live people?”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your tone, Mr. Park?”

Jimin glared. “You lied to me for six months, I’m allowed to interrogate you.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “I’m frankly just… In amazement that you’re still standing here. And no… Not live humans, not for a very long time. You may proceed with the interrogation – but I insist on us moving out of my hallway and to an actual sitting location.” He pointed to the couch.

“Do you have anything to drink? If I open your fridge… Will I find bags of blood?”

Yoongi made a noise of offense and crossed his arms. “Of course not, I’m not some barbarian. You’ll find a recyclable bottle of that’s filled with blood. But my sodas are in the door.”

Jimin went over to the fridge and opened it. Sure enough, there were three large water bottles filled with a very suspicious reddish liquid. He grabbed a soda from the door and went over to the couch, sitting next to Yoongi.

“How old are you? I’m guessing that twenty-seven was a lie.”

“I was twenty-seven when I died. Thirty-one years ago.”

“Oooh, I bagged myself a silver fox, huh?”

Yoongi huffed once more. “I died at twenty-seven.”

“Mhm… And now you’re fifty-eight.”

“Jimin, I’m gonna…”

Jimin giggled. “I guess I shouldn’t tease you… You might bite me… Would you?”

“Bite you? Not unless you asked.”

“Would it turn me into a vampire?”

“No. There’s a very specific ritual for that.”

Jimin nodded. “Cool. So, what does a vampire do? Aside from drinking blood… What’s special about you? I’ve seen you in the day. You complain a whole lot, but you don’t sparkle or ignite like a firework. We’ve taken plenty of pictures together… And you eat way too much garlic. You also sleep at night, and probably too long… And you aren’t any stronger than I am.”

“You’re making me feel real great here, Jimin,” Yoongi joked, smiling as he spoke.

Jimin laughed. “Sorry—I just mean… You seem human. I’ve never… Really assumed anything was off about you.”

“The great thing about humans, is that you all really like to assume everyone is like you. You avoid the things that support the opposite. Inhuman behavior, to some degree, so long as it’s not shocking or jarring, you can brush off as an odd quirk, a funny trait. I’m close to human, yes, but I am not human. I complain in the sun because my skin is sensitive. Bursting into flames is a myth, but I do burn far easier than most humans. My skin’s melanin has decayed over the years without cellular growth.”

“Which is why you’re so pale too.”

Yoongi grunted an affirmative. “Garlic is a myth, as is the no reflection thing. I’m sure hundreds of years ago, maybe? There might have been some truth to it, but modern technology and modern mirrors work different, so I can see myself the same as you. I am stronger than you, but I do well at hiding it most of the time. Any displays of it, you either don’t see, or brush aside. I do also sleep at night, yes – because I’ve put myself on a human schedule. I do this so I can live among you all without problems. Once a week though, I must sleep during the day. Sleeping at night is akin to a human living on a series of short naps at mid-afternoon. It’s not fully restful and it’s dangerous to do long term. I compensate by sleeping through the day one day per week, in the appropriate resting place.”

“R… Resting place?”

“My coffin.”

Jimin’s eyes bulged. “Coffin?”

“Yes, I am dead. I have a coffin.”

“That you sleep in?”

“Once a week. Otherwise, I sleep in the bed.”

Jimin nodded, his brows furrowed.

“Gonna run yet?” Yoongi asked.

“No… Is there anything else different?”

“Well… We’re excellent in bed,” Yoongi joked. Jimin glanced up. “I mean it. We have a… Special thing about us. You’ve had sex with other men before me, right?”

“Yeah, a few.”

“Haven’t you ever noticed that when we have sex… I’m much—”

“Harder.”

Yoongi nodded.

Jimin pouted. “I assumed it was because I just really turned you on. It’s because you’re a vampire?”

“Well, no, you really do turn me on... A lot. But a few days after I do my daytime sleep, I get naturally more rigid. I’m not sure why – I think it has something do with… Ah, well it’s gross. But it just happens.”

Jimin sat back, sighing softly. “You’re immortal.”

“Yes.”

“Honestly… I think that’s the thing that bothers me most about this. Not that you’re undead or drink blood or… But that you’re gonna never grow old. And I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispered.

“If we work out…” Jimin began. “And stay together… You’ll turn me, right? You’d have to – for us to… Be together.”

“Not necessarily. While I wouldn’t hate the idea of someone’s company in my life… I know that a limited existence is so valued and important. It’s something that I would be willing to discuss… If we work out, and when you are older.”

Jimin nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Yoongi pressed. “That’s it?”

Jimin shrugged. “We all have secrets, Yoongi.”

“I doubt you have a secret as big as this, Jimin.”

“No… But I have one that… People have left for.”

Yoongi seemed to perk up a little at that, his brows furrowed. Despite the difference in his eyes, the sleek black, Jimin found his expression endearing and sweet.

“I like your eyes like this… Can you change them at will?” He asked.

“No. They’re like this because I’ve not fed for a while. I have to keep myself fed and rested or they shift; they’ll be back to normal after I wake up and drink… What secret could you have that’s so big, Jimin?”

“Well… I…” Jimin winced. “God, it’s weird as hell, I’m so sorry.”

“I won’t run,” Yoongi promised. “You’re sitting here next to me after finding out I’m a living dead monster. The least I can do is listen to your secret and try to understand.”

Jimin smiled softly at that. He nodded. “I like… Sleep sex.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I like the idea of… Having sex with someone while they sleep or are unconscious. With their consent! I mean… I’d never… Do something nonconsensual.”

Yoongi remained silent a moment, thinking. “Do you want someone to have sex with you while you sleep? Or do you want to have sex with someone while they sleep?”

“Both, I guess. I like the idea of both. I’ve never done it. Most people stop talking to me after I tell them.”

“Why would they?” Yoongi pressed. “We all have kinks and fantasies.”

“Yeah, but a lot of them see it as a form of rape. And I get it, it’s a super grey area. You can’t change your mind while you’re asleep, so like… If you say it’s okay, and then as you drift off to sleep decide you don’t want it… Then it becomes nonconsent.”

Yoongi nodded in understanding. “Well I think that can be resolved just by open communication,” he said, touching his hand to his chin in thought. “If you trust your partner and they trust you, you two should be able to communicate what is and isn’t okay. I don’t think a kink like this is unsafe or unhealthy, as long as – like you said – it’s done with full consent.”

Jimin smiled cautiously, his heart skipping a beat. “You mean… You don’t find it gross?”

“Not at all.” Yoongi smiled. “I’m glad you shared it with me. I still don’t think it’s worse than me being a blood sucking monster… But I know it’s a secret you hold close, so I appreciate your trust. But… Would you want to try this with me someday?”

“Would I ever?” Jimin asked. He chuckled a little. “I fantasize about it a lot.”

Yoongi smirked. He moved little closer, pulling Jimin to him. “Would you want to try it today?” He asked softly.

Jimin’s eyes widened. Yoongi continued. “Look… When I sleep… In my coffin. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I am… For all intents and purposes… Dead. I don’t decay, obviously. But my body goes very cold, my lungs and heart go still… And my body stiffens, as a corpse would. That includes… My dick.”

Jimin remained quiet, processing what Yoongi was suggesting. Yoongi slid his hands over Jimin’s shoulders slowly as he spoke. “So, if someone… Say my very curious, very human boyfriend… Happened to get horny while I was sleeping in my coffin… He could climb in and use my body… Ride me… And I’d remain fully unconscious no matter what.”

“Because you’re dead…” Jimin clarified.

Yoongi nodded. “Temporarily. I wouldn’t wake for anything, unless you shined sunlight on my body. So… If you want to do this…”

“Would you fuck me when you wake?” Jimin said quickly. “If I was sleeping, would you… Return the favor?”

“I wake in the late afternoon usually. You’d likely still be up.”

“Not if I took a sleeping pill,” Jimin suggested. “I have some, I used to get nightmares and they help. I don’t use them often, but I bring them just in case. I could take one after… And you could… Help get rid of your afternoon wood with my body.”

Yoongi shifted visibly on the couch. His tongue darted out, swiping over his lips. Jimin smirked. He leaned forward, sliding his hands up Yoongi’s thighs. “Does that idea sound good? You like it.”

Yoongi nodded. “I do,” he breathed.

“We can do it today?”

“Yes but… Jimin… You understand what I mean. When I lay in my coffin… You will be looking at the equivalent of a corpse.”

“I understand. But you’re still you. You say you’ll only be still and cold… You won’t be decaying or rotting or anything you associate with a dead body. And you’ll be waking up and… We’ll be together.”

“Of course.”

“Would it turn you on? Knowing I used you while you… Rested?”

Yoongi smiled softly, lowering his gaze. “Frankly? That’s… An incredibly sexy thought. The thought of you climbing into my coffin with me alone is enough to… Well… I’ve thought of it more than once. I never even imagined you’d be willing to… Let alone wanting to… Do more.”

“Should I stay in the coffin with you? After I finish?”

“I’m afraid not.” Yoongi shook his head. “Waking from my rest is a very jarring thing. I fear I might accidentally hurt you. I have a bed in my room next to the coffin, you can sleep there.”

Jimin nodded. “I do want this as long as you do. And I do want you to… Do the same.”

Yoongi leaned forward, kissing Jimin gently.

“Hey… You’re a vampire… Don’t you have fangs?”

“They retract. When I’m resting they will come out, so don’t kiss me – you could get poked. But when I’m awake I can pull them in and out as needed.”

“Can I see them?” Jimin whispered.

Yoongi seemed to be thinking about it. He grinned then. His wide, gummy grin suddenly became something much more frightening… And sexier, when Jimin realized his canines had lengthened and transformed into sharp, deadly points. Jimin’s breath left in a rush.

“Oh wow…”

Yoongi’s smile dropped again to a relaxed expression. “Satisfied?” He asked, his tone slightly breathier with the fangs in the way.

Jimin nodded. “I think you need to go to bed soon,” he murmured.

Yoongi smirked, one fang peeking out of his lip. “Horny bastard.”

“Not my fault.” Jimin squeezed Yoongi’s thighs. “Should I wait out here?”

“Please. Though it’s not disturbing I do like going to sleep alone. You’re free to come in in about fifteen minutes… I’ll be resting by then. The lube is in the top drawer of the dresser in the bedroom.

“See you in the evening,” Jimin said. Yoongi rose and leaned forward, pecking Jimin’s mouth gently.

Fifteen minutes had never been so damn slow. Jimin finished his drink and paced around the apartment, trying to distract from the ticking clock. He took the time to explore Yoongi’s place; he’d never had a chance to before. He had quite a number of interesting trinkets that Jimin wanted to ask about when he woke up. He pulled off his coat and tugged on one of Yoongi’s hoodies, hugging himself in it as Yoongi’s scent drifted into his nostrils from the warm fabric.

Finally. Fifteen minutes had passed. Jimin entered the bedroom carefully, letting his eyes adjust to the room, even darker than the living room. He found a lamp near a comfy looking bed and flicked it on, looking around. The light was soft, diffused by the heavy shade. In the center of the room was a large, dark coffin. Jimin approached it carefully, his heart in his throat. Inside was Yoongi, looking much paler than usual. He was entirely still, arms resting across his bare belly. He was in his boxers, his cock comically rigid, tenting the front up obscenely. He was stunning.

Jimin hurried over to the dresser and opened the drawer, finding the lube easily. He shucked his jeans and boxers, crawling onto the bed. He set his sleeping medication on the bedside stand and relaxed into the pillow. It smelled richly of Yoongi’s scent, his cock thickening against his thigh. He moaned softly, stroking himself. He looked over at the coffin, his stomach clenching. This was really happening. He poured some of the lube on his fingers and spread it over his hole, sighing contentedly as he pushed a finger in to prep himself.

When he was ready, Jimin rose, sliding the lube and his phone into his pocket. He went over to the coffin, taking a moment to gaze down at his beautiful lover. A vampire… He knew he’d likely have a moment of realization down the line – the understanding that this simple confession had flipped his life upside down. But he’d never been one to shy away from the macabre or bizarre, and he always wondered if supernatural creatures existed. Yoongi’s confirmation of that was… Unexpected, but not unwanted.

Jimin carefully straddled Yoongi’s lap. He knew he couldn’t wake him, but the fear was half the fun. Yoongi was still hard, his position entirely unchanged from the first moment Jimin saw him. Jimin pulled his boxers down just under his balls, smirking when he saw the tip was a deep purple red. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked gently, surprised to find it cool to the touch. Yoongi really was a living dead person.

A surprising twinge of arousal spiked through Jimin, making him shudder. He wondered if Yoongi could still come in this state. Only one way to find out.

He shifted over, taking the lube from his hoodie with shaking hands and adding some to Yoongi’s cock, and more to his own stretched hole. He moved over and began to settle into Yoongi’s cock, muffling his quiet gasps in his other hand. Yoongi’s cock was so hard it was almost painful. There was none of the give he was used to, forcing his ass open wide to take the tip, and sliding deep into him. He whimpered, shuddering hard when he took his entire length.

“Yoongi,” he whined softly. Curious, he reached out, touching Yoongi’s pale, cool face. He held his hand by his nose for a moment. Nothing. No movement of air, no shift, nothing. He moaned again, reality slowly sinking in. There was nothing normal or right about this. But God, it felt good. He dropped his hand down, pulling Yoongi’s top lip back. As promised, there they were, sharp fangs, glinting dangerously. Jimin touched one, ever so tempted to prick his finger on it, let Yoongi taste him… But no. Jimin pulled his hand back. That could be discussed at a later time. He settled back on Yoongi’s stiff cock and whimpered. There was no give. He was gonna lose it fast at this rate.

Jimin began to ride him, moaning openly as Yoongi’s cock slid over his prostate. He reached into his hoodie and removed his phone, holding it up. He found his camera app and angled it to show his face first, his cheeks mottled red with arousal. He moaned openly as he pressed record, not bothering to shy away from looking and sounding obscene.

“Your cock is so hard, Yoongi. You’re gonna break my ass in half, oh!” He shuddered, biting his lip and twisting his hips down. “Fuck, I’ve never had something this hard up my asshole, Yoongi… I’m gonna gape for hours after I’m done with you.”

He whined, his throat clicking as he struggled to swallow. He turned the camera, filming Yoongi’s body before turning it and balancing it behind him, so he could film himself riding Yoongi. He glanced back, smirking when he realized the camera was catching each long stroke, Yoongi’s cock sinking back into his ass. He spread himself and leaned forward, giving more light for the camera. He fucked himself hard and fast onto Yoongi’s cock, moaning and begging for more, not hiding the pleasure he was getting. He reached back and grabbed the phone, holding it up again.

“I’m gonna come, Yoongi,” he whined. “I’m gonna come from using your thick, hard cock, right here in your coffin. Wanna see?”

He turned the camera and lifted the front of the hoodie. His cock was bouncing with each thrust of his body, slapping gently off Yoongi’s still stomach.

“I’m so glad you slept shirtless,” Jimin panted. “Make me come, Yoongi… Oh God, please… Fuck my ass harder…” He moved faster, whining high in his throat. It shifted to a shout when his cock began to spurt, shooting ropes of come over Yoongi’s hands and belly. He stroked himself, still riding Yoongi’s cock as he milked the last come from himself. He shuddered and giggled, moving the camera behind him as he pulled off Yoongi. He held his ass open, feeling the cool air tickle him far more intimately than it should.

“Look at that gape,” he mumbled. “Too bad it’s not dripping with your come.” He pulled the camera back as he crawled out of the coffin.

“I think I’m gonna leave you like this… Covered in my come, boxers down… Just so you wake up and know what I did to you.”

He walked back over to the bed in the corner. “Now, Yoongi… I’m gonna leave the lube right there.” He angled the camera to show himself setting it on the nightstand and picking up the sleeping pill. “And I’m gonna take my sleeping medicine.” He angled the camera back to his face to show him swallowing it.

“Now I’m going to sleep just like this… No shorts… And I would love it, if you want to… To repay the favor and use my ass while I sleep.” He smirked. “I wonder… Is your come as cold your body was when you first come back? You should let me know… I wonder how that feels inside me…” He shook his head. “Sleep well… See you soon.” He ended the video and sent it to Yoongi, forcing himself to stay awake long enough to hear the buzz of Yoongi’s phone in his coffin. He let himself drift off to sleep, dreams full of sexy, arousing thoughts.

Jimin’s ass was on fire. He moaned softly, opening his eyes blearily. The first thing he saw was the coffin. He turned his head, spotting the clock… Nearly seven hours since he’d gone to sleep.

“Morning Sunshine,” Yoongi murmured. Jimin turned, spotting him at his desk. A cup of deep red liquid sat next to him as he worked on something. “How’s your ass?”

“Sore,” Jimin mumbled, reaching back. He was met with a gush of body temperature fluids, pouring from his gaped hole. He whined. “Fuck…” His cock throbbed against the mattress. “What did you do?”

“Me? I simply did as you asked in your video… Very sexy, by the way. Would you like to watch?”

Jimin rolled over, groaning weakly. His cock was hard despite the pain in his ass. It was perfect. “Show me,” he whispered.

Yoongi rose and grabbed his phone. He went over to the bed and sat on it with Jimin, passing him the device.

Yoongi did far less teasing and talking in his video. He set up the phone at an angle on the nightstand, allowing it to capture most of Jimin’s sleeping body. Yoongi slicked his cock, looking into the camera as he sank into Jimin with a moan. He began to thrust into him quickly, holding Jimin’s ass open as he did. He maintained looking at the camera most of the time, his eyes the same black they were when he went to sleep.

As Jimin watched himself get used on the phone, Yoongi pulled him onto his lap. He’d withdrawn his cock, Jimin could feel. He hissed and whined softly when Yoongi dragged him over and slid back into his come lubed hole.

“It’s sore,” he whined.

“You can get off then, I don’t mind,” Yoongi said, letting his hips go. Jimin smirked. He shifted to get a better angle to watch the video and began to bounce lazily on Yoongi’s cock.

On the video, Yoongi had picked up speed, grunting as he fucked Jimin’s sleeping body. He tossed his head back, shouting and baring his teeth.

Jimin moaned, catching sight of Yoongi’s fangs. He touched his own neck, a little disappointed at the lack of bite marks. Yoongi on video shuddered, his hips going still. He leaned forward, kissing Jimin’s shoulder.

“There’s my first load, Jimin. It was as cold as ice… I’ve never felt your hole squeeze me so tight. Next time I’ll do it when you’re awake… I bet you’ll squeal so pretty when it fills you…”

Jimin moaned, leaning back against Yoongi. “I wanna feel,” he confessed.

“I’ll make sure you’re awake next time,” Yoongi promised. “Wanna see the rest?”

Jimin nodded, riding Yoongi a little faster.

On video, Yoongi picked up the pace, fucking Jimin’s ass harder than before. He used him for nearly forty minutes, filling his hole three times. Finally, he sagged his shoulders, kissing over Jimin’s back.

“You’re so fucking sloppy, baby,” he grumbled. He grabbed the phone and angled it down. Jimin’s ass was red, his hole swollen around Yoongi’s cock. He pulled out slowly and come bubbled out, obscene sounds filling the air. Yoongi chuckled. “I’ll leave you like this. When you wake up I’ll give you one more, if you want it.”

The video went black. Jimin leaned forward, his ass aching at the new angle. “I want it,” he whispered.

Yoongi shifted, pulling out only long enough to get onto his knees. He sank back into Jimin’s already filled ass, and they both moaned at the sloppy noises. Jimin leaned up, wrapping his arms back around Yoongi.

“Bite me when you come,” he whispered.

“You sure?” Yoongi was fucking him hard, his cock twitching.

“Yes,” Jimin promised. He reached down, stroking his cock in time with Yoongi’s thrusts.

Yoongi was huffing erratically, holding tight to his middle. His fangs grazed Jimin’s shoulder.

“Are you mine?” Yoongi panted in his ear.

“Yes—“

“Give yourself to me.” Yoongi grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand off his cock. “All the way. Are you mine, Jimin?”

“Yes, yes!” Jimin moaned.

“I’m yours as well, Park Jimin,” Yoongi whispered. He slammed his cock deep. It began to throb, spilling inside Jimin. At the same time, Jimin felt a sharp pain and then a pressure on his shoulder. Pure pleasure washed over him. His cock began to spurt ropes of come, jerking hard enough to make them land on the floor in front of him. He shouted Yoongi’s name, reaching back and holding his neck as Yoongi drank from him.

The two collapsed on the bed as their orgasms faded. Yoongi kissed and licked at the wound on Jimin’s shoulder until the blood clotted, sliding his softening cock carefully from Jimin’s aching ass.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, nudging Jimin’s shoulder with his nose as they cuddled back to chest on the bed.

“I’m great,” Jimin whispered.

“No regrets? Still okay with it?”

“Fully… You?”

“It was so exciting,” Yoongi admitted. “When I woke and felt your come on me… And then saw you sleeping… And that video was stunning. You were so beautiful.”

Jimin smiled shyly. “We’ll have to go easy the next few nights… I’m really sore.”

“Of course. I’ll be gentle for a while, let you heal up.” Yoongi kissed over his shoulder. “Did the bite hurt?”

“No. It felt good… How often can you drink from me?”

“I’d prefer not to often. Living human blood, not bagged, it’s… Very rich and sweet, almost like candy. It can become addictive. I’m honored you let me, but I’ll save it as a treat for myself, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course.” Jimin turned as well as he could. His gaze searched Yoongi’s face, finally dropping down to his mouth, lips pink and cheeks mottled. “It was so interesting. Seeing you in your coffin.”

“I know it can be frightening.”

“No…” Jimin shook his head. “I think it sank in… That I was looking at someone who wasn’t alive. But knowing you’d be awake soon after, it was… This bizarre sort of… Taboo but sexy thing? I’m a freak, aren’t I?” Jimin’s shoulders sagged.

“No more than I.” Yoongi nudged him again. “We can be freaks together.”

Jimin grinned. “Yoongi?” He said softly.

“Hm?”

“I feel gross.”

“Because of what we did?”

“No, silly.” Jimin laughed. “Because your come is gluing my ass and legs together. I need a shower.”

Yoongi laughed brightly, nodding. “Agreed. Let’s get one... It’s almost dinner, you’re probably starved.”

“You aren’t,” Jimin teased, rising slowly. “No, but I could eat. I’ll take you out after the shower.”

They walked together to the bathroom. “How does eating human food work with being a vampire?”

“Same as it works being alive,” Yoongi said, turning on the water. “It’s just empty calories for me – Which is why I never eat much.”

“There’s so much I feel like I have to learn about what you are… How life is for you.” Jimin crossed his arms as he waited for the water to warm. Yoongi straightened up and wrapped his arms around him. Now that Jimin was aware, he could feel that Yoongi was a few degrees cooler, his skin just a bit paler than human.

“You can ask anything you need. We have time, and I’ll tell you all you want to know.”

“Yoongi…” Jimin leaned against him, hugging him tightly. He could hear Yoongi’s heart, glugging along at a lethargic pace. He smiled softly. “Can I confess something to you?”

“Hm?” Yoongi asked, resting his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” Jimin whispered.

Yoongi went still, his heart skipping a little faster. “Jimin… Say that again,” he said.

“I… I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Jimin could feel Yoongi’s lips curve up into a smile against his shoulder. “In nearly sixty years of existence… I have never heard more beautiful words,” Yoongi admitted. “I love you too, Jimin… I feel like I’ll love you forever.”

Jimin pulled back, meeting Yoongi’s gaze. His eyes were back to their normal soft brown. He smiled. “Coming from someone who is immortal… That’s the most beautiful thing I could hear.”

Yoongi leaned forward, kissing Jimin deeply. He pulled him close, and Jimin melted into the touch. Yoongi may have cold skin, may drink blood and die once a week – but Jimin had never felt safer or warmer than he did at that very moment in Yoongi’s arms.

#thebtswritersclub #yoonmin #jimin x yoongi #yoongi x jimin #jimin smut #yoongi smut #jimin #yoongi #mywriting

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years ago

Text

Raise the Barre (Ch. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Word Count: 6,436

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

After the initial shock of your partner wore off, you decided spending the semester partnered with Park Jimin was, indeed, the dark sentence it appeared to be at first glance.

Jimin wasn’t happy with the situation either; that much became clear when Mr. Vlad said your name and Jimin instantly stiffened. You’d turned slowly to face him, your mind going fuzzy as you met his blank gaze.

The first two weeks of the semester had been spent wondering if this was some kind of cruel, cosmic joke. Maybe you’d been a terrible person in a past life and this was your bitter reward. If so, Jimin must have pissed someone off too, since he seemed equally perturbed by your new relationship.

Waiting in line at the water fountain, you checked the time once again and exhaled. Ballet began in five minutes and Miss Britt employed the same lateness tolerance policy as Mr. Vlad. Really, it was a blanket expectation by all the teachers at Russet. If you arrived after the door shut, you weren’t allowed in – and god forbid you missed a step the next week during barre. Motivated to avoid this, you’d arrived fifteen minutes early every day since classes started – it was hardest for 8:00 AM ballet, but that couldn’t be helped.

Once your water bottle was full, you screwed on the cap and hustled into the room with three minutes to spare. Miss Britt stood at the front beside the live pianist. She insisted on using one for all her classes, saying it was good practice for when you’d dance with an orchestra.

Arms crossed, she surveyed each student when they entered, and you hastened to stand beside Noelle at the bar. Placing your water bottle on the floor, you began to roll your neck and warm up your feet.

From across the room, you heard Jimin laugh and looked up on reflex – only to find him standing next to Sabrina.

Uncertain, you froze. You hadn’t made it a habit to follow Jimin’s movements, or even to learn more about him since your arrival at Russet. You saw him in class and occasionally on the weekends but had made it a point to keep your friend groups separate. As a result, you really had no idea what Jimin had been up to in his private time.

It seemed the answer to your question was: cozying up to the enemy. Since that first night in Grace Hall, Sabrina had proven herself to be as unpleasant as you’d feared. You’d mostly tried to steer clear of her path, but again, this was hard to achieve in a class of eighty students.

While you watched, Jimin laughed again and Sabrina smiled. She looked almost pleasant and in response to this, your eyes narrowed.

Objectively, you didn’t want Jimin as your dance partner, but he’d been assigned to you. It’d be incredibly embarrassing if he asked to switch midway through the semester. Everyone would know it was because of you and you’d have no other options when the New Year rolled around.

Faculty clarified the partner situation by the end of the first week. Apparently, only your first ballet partner at Russet was assigned. This was done on purpose, in order to get you used to working with new people, but you’d be allowed to choose your own partner starting January 1st. This was the only reason you hadn’t immediately marched to the front office and demanded a change. Clearly, this was a test of partnership. Jimin might be the devil himself, but he hadn’t asked to switch partners and you’d be damned if you gave in before he did.

On the opposite side of the room, Jimin smiled and you scowled, wondering what Sabrina could possibly have to say that he found so hilarious. In the two weeks you’d known her, Sabrina had yet to utter a joke in your presence. Suspicion clouded your judgement, since it was no secret amongst the class that Sabrina’s ballet partner wasn’t as talented as she was.

The idea that she might be after Jimin entered your mind while you watched. While you didn’t want to be Jimin’s partner, you also didn’t want Sabrina to be Jimin’s partner.

You were shaken from this thought by Miss Britt clapping her hands.

“Pliés, ladies and gentlemen!”

Miss Britt led ballet class on Tuesdays; right now, she stood at the front of the room while she waited for everyone to echo her movements.

“From first,” she said, adopting the same position. “Little breath on the intro, and – demi plié one, two. Demi plié three, up four. Grand plié five, port de bras six –up seven, eight. Rise to relevé on two! Hold three, four. Grand plié five, up six, tendu to second. Repeat!”

You followed her with half-movements, attempting to mimic her delicate port de bras. The grand plié was fast, which was tricky – you’d need to control your center as you rose from the ground.

“Start on the right,” said Miss Britt, turning around. “Skip third. I want to see you sweating by the end, everyone! Pliés should be as much effort as battements! If I don’t see sweat, we’ll do center barre again next week.”

A ripple of panic went through the class.

Center barre was a time-honored ballet tradition, loathed by all. It involved doing warm-ups in the center of the room instead of at the barre. This required additional strength and concentration; enough to cripple even the most stoic of ballerinas.

As the pianist started, the entire class inhaled and fell into motion. Hips square, core engaged, heels down, head tilted up and to the side. You let each breath you took flow through your body, mirroring the stance Miss Britt had shown.

True to her demand, your muscles were already warm by the end of the first side. Miss Britt made her rounds at the edge of the classroom, stopping occasionally to dole out corrections.

“Your back is arched, Irene!” she called. “There, that’s better. Louis, move through the motion. Save your ballistic stretching for jazz class. Good, good.”

“She’s coming,” Noelle whispered beneath her breath.

Hiding a smile, you ducked your head. Miss Britt was close – you could see her in the corner of your eye as she turned the corner, heading down your row with an eagle’s eye.

Dropping into the final plié, you struggled to keep your hips square while you rose from the ground. Miss Britt stopped alongside you, examining you for a moment before she began to walk forward.

“Heels forward,” she said, correcting your stance. “Imagine everything rotates from the hips. Push down through the ground and out! All motion is powered by the glutes. Yes… better,” she said, begrudgingly moving on.

A bead of sweat rolled down your neck and dropped into your leotard. You knew her praise hadn’t been as genuine for you as it had been for others. Noelle glanced your way from the corner of her eye, but you continued to stare straight ahead. Miss Britt was nearby, and you didn’t want to give her another reason to scold.

As the music came to a close, Miss Britt stopped at the front and began the tendu combination. You were soaked with sweat before rond de jambes ended, only the massive amounts of hair spray and gel you had used holding your bun in place.

Barre lasted over an hour, which was longer than usual. As you and Noelle dragged your barre to the side at the end, you felt your grip slipping on the silvery metal. Trying to stay hydrated, you drank half your water bottle on the side of the room.

The water break didn’t last long – soon you were gathered in the center of the room for adagio. Miss Britt was the kind of teacher who used both hands and feet to relay the combination. You stood on the sidelines and watched; a bit dizzy from how much you’d sweated already. More water before class would’ve been a good thing.

The one positive about the adagio was it was a solo, not a pas de deux. You had ballet partnering classes throughout the week, of course, but oftentimes your normal ballet teachers assigned partner work as well.

This was why Jimin stood beside you, hovering nearby in case he was needed.

Casting a withering glance at him in the mirror, you assumed fifth position and firmly squared your shoulders. Behind you and to the left, Jimin rolled his eyes.

Jaw clenched, you decided to ignore him.

Sabrina stood on the opposite side of the room, paired with Paulo Goncalves, a talented ballet dancer – just not as talented as she was. Before you could look away, she turned her head in your direction. You winced, ready to move but then realized she wasn’t looking at you.

She stared at Jimin. Sabrina looked at him in much the same way mothers examined produce in the grocery store, taking in every angle to determine if it was valuable.

You stiffened when you saw this, unsure what to do. Sabrina’s gaze moved to you before you could blink and when she saw you, she smiled.

It wasn’t a nice gesture.

This was disarming enough that when the music began, your mind went completely blank. The rest of the class started, raising their arms overhead and you could only stare, lips parting in horror. All steps of the combination had flown from your mind.

“Développé devant,” Jimin whispered behind you.

Instantly, the steps returned to your memory. Snapping to attention, you raised both arms overhead. As you caught up to the class, you extended your right leg in the air.

Miss Britt turned in your direction, luckily not noticing your momentary confusion and when she moved on to Brian, you exhaled in relief. As the combination continued, a question mark formed in your mind, and you chanced a subtle glance sideways at Jimin.

A vague sense of confusion settled over you. Jimin had helped you, which seemed extremely out of character for a demon from the depths of Hades.

When you glanced his way though, Jimin didn’t seem to notice anything was off. He looked almost peaceful as he moved through the combination, executing the steps with perfect timing. The sight of this made your blood boil, since the combination was difficult, and he had the audacity to make it look so fucking easy.

Each line of his body radiated grace and control; he truly was remarkable, it made you nauseous to watch. The lightest twitch of his pinky was purposeful, his body held perfectly still as he stepped into arabesque.

You lost sight of him when you penchéd, catching Jimin again in the mirror when you rose. Logically, you knew he was also working hard, but it didn’t show at all. You, on the other hand, were working and looked like you were.

When the combination ended, Jimin breathed easily, barely winded, while you felt as though you’d just run a marathon.

“Y/N!”

Head whipping up, you met Miss Britt’s gaze at the front of the room. For a moment, you panicked and wondered if she’d seen your lapse after all. If there was one thing not tolerated at Russet, it was failing to pay attention.

She looked at you for a moment, as though searching for what to say and then simply said, “Square your hips in arabesque.”

You sagged slightly in relief. “I will,” you promised, but she’d already moved on.

“Irene, less port de bras. Any more flapping and you’ll fly away. Paulo – you’re lagging on your transitions. Stay on the beat. Now,” she said, turning around. “Find your partner. The next adagio is paired.”

Jimin walked forward and came to a stop beside you. You stiffened at his proximity, uncertain what to say.

He’d helped you – Park Jimin had helped and you couldn’t fathom why. For the entirety of your teenage years, Jimin had been your worst enemy; it only stood to reason the trend would continue at Russet. When he glanced at you in the mirror, you found the silence unbearable.

“Thanks,” you said at last.

Jimin turned to face you, surprised. “What for?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face him as well. “You know what.”

“I do.” Maddeningly, he smiled. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Well,” you said through gritted teeth. “We all have things we want but can’t have.”

Jimin was about to respond when you noticed Miss Britt starting the combination at the front. She had one of the students from senior class helping, an incredibly talented dancer named Seokjin. Seokjin was ridiculously beautiful and equally shy. This didn’t stop half the freshman class – girls and boys – from harboring a fat crush on him.

Holding out his palm, Jimin waited until you placed your hand in his. Pulling you close, his other hand went to your waist while Miss Britt began the combination.

“Start in fifth,” she said with Seokjin behind her. “Ladies – relevé one! Hold two. Both plié three, up four. Ladies – right leg to passé and extend seven, eight. Relevé one! Hold two, hold three, four. Bring leg to attitude efface – seven, eight.”

Already, you found yourself sweating and you were only marking the steps. So far, the adagio placed heavy emphasis on the female partner, with the male only offering support. This was frustrating, since male partnering was difficult, but in a different way than for women. Men needed exceptional strength and balance to support their partner, but oftentimes it was the woman executing the more technical steps.

After front attitude, you extended your leg, pliéd and Jimin lifted you up. This required great coordination and timing – both his hands on your waist, he hoisted you into the air. Miss Britt stopped the music at this point to give you a minute to practice.

Not that this helped. While in high school, you’d done minimal partner dancing. Your studio hadn’t had any male dancers in your level; the partnering you had done was mostly female, which was a different expectation than traditional ballet.

The lift was hard and even two weeks into classes, you and Jimin still hadn’t mastered it. You kept smacking Jimin’s chin with your head when you leapt from the ground. This time was no exception – you heard the crack when it happened, a sharp pain radiating from the base of your skull. Jimin swiftly let go, dropping you on your feet.

“Ouch!” he yelped, stumbling backwards.

“Sorry!” you said, whirling around. “Are you alright?”

Jimin rubbed his jaw. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “I’m fine. Let’s just… try it again.”

You nodded and maneuvered dutifully into position, his hands returning to the same spot on your waist. After a deep inhale, you pliéd and jumped – and Jimin immediately dropped you, your feet hitting the floor.

“What was that?” you demanded as you spun around.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Why are you asking me? You’re the one whose weight was pitched forward!”

“It was not!” Despite this, you frowned. It was possible Jimin was correct on this one. “Let’s just… do it again.”

Jaw clenched, Jimin returned to position and you tried it again. This time was passable; no one smacked anyone’s chin when they jumped and you landed on the right count, but it still felt somehow off. You were working too hard; when you glanced at Noelle and her partner, Eamon, their lift looked so effortless. Such mastery escaped you, slipping through your grasp no matter how often you practiced.

At the next water break, you immediately left Jimin’s side. Going as far away from him as you could, you drank eagerly from your bottle and relished in the silence.

Someone coughed from behind you.

Turning around, your expression instantly soured when you found Sabrina inches away. She had nary a hair out of place and for a moment, you wondered what’d happen if you messed up her bun. You got the feeling Sabrina was used to being in control.

Before you could speak, she took a small sip of water. Her gaze searched the room and landed on Jimin, who was saying something to Seokjin with a laugh.

“He’s talented,” she remarked.

Ignoring this, you drank from your own water bottle. “If you say so.”

Her gaze returned to yours, lips curled in a smile. “I do say so. You know it’s true, too. Jimin is talented, which makes me think you’re the reason you two can’t get that lift.”

Stiffening somewhat, you slowly bent to place your water bottle down on the floor. As you rose, you took a step forward and lifted your chin.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” you told her.

Sabrina’s lip twitched. “Oh. Touchy.”

“You should leave. Isn’t your partner looking for you?”

“Hm, not sure. He might not be my partner for long.”

Unthinkingly, you stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said.” Sabrina examined the nails on one hand. “It’s a pity Jimin has to be partnered with you when he could have the best dancer in the class. I plan on letting him know I’m available, if he ever wants to switch.”

“Are you seriously–”

“Miss Y/L/N!”

Both of you shut up, your heads snapping sideways and Sabrina immediately took a step backwards. Miss Britt stood before you, but how long she’d been there, you didn’t know. Desperately, you hoped she hadn’t heard the entire conversation.

Sabrina immediately turned away; Miss Britt let her go, which didn’t bode well for you. You’d been holding out hope this had something to do with your conversation, but this didn’t seem to be the case. Miss Britt watched Sabrina leave before she turned to you.

“I’d like to speak after class, if that’s alright,” she said, her voice low.

She didn’t sound angry, which made it even worse. Anger was a fickle emotion; it came easily and left easily. The calmness was worse, since it sounded like Miss Britt had something serious to say.

“Sure,” you said, managing to nod. “I’ll stay.”

She nodded and turned away, walking to the front while you stared at her back. After a moment, you shook yourself free and moved towards the center. A dull roar pounded your thoughts. Thousands of worries pressed from every side, each one more worrisome and insistent than the last.

This was it – you were finished. Russet was kicking you out. Somehow, you’d been sent an acceptance letter in the mail, but it was a mistake and you were being sent home.

When you returned to the center, you dully stood by Jimin’s side. He glanced at you curiously, sensing something was wrong.

“Are you –”

“Let’s just dance,” you said, moving to fifth position.

Jimin wisely let it go, stepping behind you to place his hands on your waist. The pianist began to play and you started the combination but the entire time you danced, your mind was somewhere else. You couldn’t help but think about what Miss Britt might have to say, each possibility you considered being worse than the last.

Things went smoothly for the rest of the class, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Everyone else picked up on steps easier than you did; Sabrina was right about that. Jimin was a talented dancer and he had experience with partnering.

He wasn’t the problem here – you were.

Jimin was quiet for the duration of class, which was unusual. You wondered if he was annoyed by your incompetence and again, your mind flashed to Sabrina’s words. She wanted Jimin as her partner. This made you feel a bit desperate because as much as you didn’t like Jimin, it would be humiliating for him to switch on you mid-semester.

If you were in Jimin’s shoes though, you would consider it. Sabrina had flawless technique, was beloved by the teachers and would only help his star to rise. They also seemed to get along well together, unlike you and Jimin, who were constantly at odds.

Realizing this, your stomach sank. Yes – if you were Jimin, you would consider switching partners.

When the hour hand on the clock finally met the twelve, you hastily gave your applause and bolted towards your dance bag. You lingered here, waiting for class to clear out, but you couldn’t stand being next to Jimin for one second longer. Thanking him had been humiliating enough for one day.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin hesitate before he walked out. The rest of the class began to pack up, chatting with one another while they left the classroom. Miss Britt stood at the front with the accompanist, likely going over music for the next class.

Noelle also paused before leaving, but you told her to go and said you’d catch up with them later. You waited until most of the class had left and then you took a deep breath and walked to the front.

“Miss Britt?” you said, coming to a stop.

She faced you with a smile. “Ah, Y/N! Good, good. Let’s talk. You can go,” she said, dismissing the pianist.

Once she had left the room, Miss Britt again turned to you.

Your stomach twisted in knots. Now that you stood here, the worst kinds of scenarios ran through your mind. Miss Britt would kick you out of Russet; you would have to enroll in second semester at a local college. You’d have to return to your hometown with your tail tucked between your legs and all your dreams of a dance career would be ruined.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted before she could speak. “I didn’t mean to argue with Sabrina in the middle of class like that. It was unprofessional and I promise it won’t happen again.”

Miss Britt blinked. “Well, that’s good,” she said slowly. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It… wasn’t?”

A small part of you had been holding out hope that this was it. That you would get a mild talking-to and be on your way soon.

Miss Britt was known as a strict, but fair teacher. When she wasn’t yelling corrections at students across the floor, she came across as laid-back. There was a reason Mr. Vlad was the terror of freshman students and not her. Although Miss Britt was demanding, she tended to offer dancers advice as opposed to cutting them off right away.

“Talking in class is one thing,” she said with a stern look. “I don’t need to tell you how prestigious this institution is. I’m sure other teachers have emphasized that point enough. You’re only throwing away your own time and money by not taking this seriously.”

Your stomach sank, since you did take this seriously and hated the idea that Miss Britt might think you didn’t. It didn’t seem like the right time to interrupt though, so you let her finish.

“More than that,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about your progress.”

“My… progress?”

“I understand you were a competitive studio dancer before this, Y/N?”

Warily, you nodded. “I was.”

“I thought so.” Gently, she smiled. “I remember your audition tape – impressive, I must say. Your solo was exquisite, and your performance quality was one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

Hearing this, your heart began to swell with pride. Perhaps this wasn’t the terrible conversation you’d been expecting after all.

“But your ballet technique is behind the other students.”

Like a balloon popped, your chest swiftly deflated.

Miss Britt continued. “I see this often in competitive dancers, even if you did ballet in addition to other styles. People who trained as ballerinas before Russet usually have a more solid grasp of the fundamentals. People like Sabrina.”

“Ah,” you said, careful to keep your voice neutral.

“I know Miss Ernst isn’t always the easiest person to get along with,” Miss Britt said. “But she trained at our prep school before she entered the Academy. It might be helpful for you to ask her for some pointers.”

“Right.”

“Or even your partner, Jimin,” she offered, noticing your hesitance. “He’s a studio dancer too, but he trained more extensively in ballet. I don’t know if you know this, but he won the Grand Prix two years ago.”

The Grand Prix was a national ballet competition – no, not a ballet competition. It was the ballet competition. You knew that Jimin had competed and won the Classical Ballet solo category. You hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, since you hadn’t been there, but Jimin’s smugness the month after remained burned in your mind.

“I may have heard something about that,” you said at last.

“Or someone outside of those two.” Miss Britt gave you a small smile. “I do offer solo sessions, but I’m unfortunately all booked for the semester.”

“That’s alright,” you said faintly. “I appreciate the offer.”

“Of course.” After a moment, her gaze became scrutinizing. “I don’t want you to feel discouraged by this, Y/N. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to have this conversation with a freshman, and it won’t be the last.”

You nodded and hesitated. She may have intended her speech to be comforting, but you couldn’t stop the vague sense of panic which spread through your limbs. The next words out of your mouth left before you could stop them.

“But how many of those students were given an offer to the Company?”

Miss Britt paused, and you glumly realized the truth. Not many.

The Company was what this was all about, of course. Russet Ballet Company was known not only for impeccable traditional ballet, but for their recent expansion into jazz and contemporary. Only fifteen offers to the Company were given to the graduating seniors at the end of four years.

Heart sinking, you realized this meant you were at the bottom. Perhaps not in every dance style; as Miss Britt had noted, your performance quality was exceptional and you were a strong contemporary dancer, but freshman year focused on ballet.

If you couldn’t last the first year at Russet, there wouldn’t be any opportunities later for you to prove yourself.

“Alright,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Miss Britt straightened. “Find someone to train with,” she said. “Ask your classmates for help. I wouldn’t have this conversation if I didn’t believe you could do it, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, trying hard not to cry.

Seeming to realize you had enough to consider, Miss Britt nodded and stepped back to rearrange her sheet music.

“I’ll see you in class next week, then,” she said with a note of finality.

Sensing the conversation was over, you nodded and turned to walk across the room. Fingers tightening on the straps of your bag, you stared straight ahead and focused on something else. Something – anything but the terrifying idea of your dreams crumbling around you.

Coming to a stop at the water fountain again, you filled up your bottle and focused on breathing. Most of your sweat had dried, loose strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck. You screwed the cap on your water bottle, shoving this in your bag to head towards the stairs.

You were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear the sound of your name being called until you’d nearly reached the end of the hall.

“Y/N – wait!”

Stopping short, you paused to glance over your shoulder. To your surprise, Jimin was hurrying towards you down the length of the hall. He was dressed in black sweats and a jacket, his hair still slightly mussed from the class you’d just left.

Coming to a stop before you, Jimin cracked a smile. “Damn, Y/N. You walk fast.”

“What do you want, Jimin?”

His smile disappeared. Straightening, Jimin’s fingers played absently with the strings of his hoodie. Some of his usual haughtiness reentered his gaze.

“Why do you always assume I want something?”

“Because I know you,” you said. “That’s how we work. You say something asshole-ish, I respond with something rude and we both move on. So, come on. Out with it.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “I – wow, Y/N.”

You waited a beat.

“Was that it?” Dully, you arched a brow. “Not your best insult, Park. Anyways, if that’s all you have to say, I have to go.”

“What is your problem?” Jimin said, wonderingly when you turned to leave.

Halting your step mid-stride, you stared at the wall for a moment before you turned around. Stalking towards him, a part of you knew that deep down Jimin didn’t deserve this, but it’d been such a long day and you were just so tired. The suggestion to ask Jimin for help was the final straw.

“My problem?” you said, coming to a stop before him. “My problem is having you for a partner.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “Hey. It’s not my fault you messed up in class today, Y/N.”

“Of course not,” you snapped. “It’s never your fault. Perfect Jimin, beloved by every teacher and student.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means!” Realizing how loud you were being, you lowered your voice. “You’re a guy, Jimin. It’s easier for you.”

His jaw dropped a little. “Are you… are you being serious, Y/N?”

“Oh, come on,” you said, giving a bitter laugh. “Are you honestly going to say you’ve never noticed? It’s easier for guy dancers. All the teachers love you because you’re a novelty. You can do the exact same thing as a girl dancer, but everyone looks at you because oo, a boy! Even your fucking center of gravity is higher than women! You have an advantage in dance, and it sucks.”

Jimin’s face had gone slightly sallow while you spoke.

“Some advantage,” he sputtered. “I never felt advantaged when I was strapping myself into a dancer’s belt before class.”

“Oh, how sad. Your penis is uncomfortable.”

“I – let’s stop talking about my dick,” Jimin muttered, his cheeks turning red. “There’s an equal number of girls here as guys, Y/N. I’m not any sort of novelty compared to you, so why don’t you let the past go? Who cares who won between us during high school?”

“Let the past go?” you repeated. “That’s a lot coming from you. You’re the one who suggested our bet in the first place.”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin frowned. “You’re the one bringing that up now, not me.”

“I’m just bringing it up to prove a point.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I even tried to collect on my winnings.”

Still facing him, you scowled. “You didn’t win.”

“Technically,” Jimin said, holding up a finger. “We said the first person to get three trophies. I got three.”

“Three trophies at competitions we both competed in,” you shot back. “I didn’t compete in the last one, so you didn’t win!”

“A technicality.”

“See!” you said, in clear disbelief. “You’re still harping on this and then you turn around and tell me to ‘let the past go.’”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Listen, Y/N. If I had an advantage in high school, it’s gone now. There’s an equal number of girls as guys here at Russet and I’m working just as hard as you.”

“Wrong,” you said. “I have to work twice as hard to get the same result.”

“That’s just not true!”

“It is! That’s the only reason you won against me as often as you did in high school.”

“Hey,” Jimin snapped, finally sounding annoyed. “Fuck, Y/N – are you being serious right now?”

“I don’t know,” you exhaled, tearing your gaze away.

Taking a deep breath, you stared at the staircase and willed yourself not to cry. The two of you were being so loud, you seriously hoped Miss Britt hadn’t heard. It would be just your luck to get in a fight with both Jimin and Sabrina on the same day.

Everything hurt. The words from Sabrina and Miss Britt continued to run through your mind and the last thing you wanted was for Park Jimin to see you cry.

“I just – have to go, Jimin,” you managed to say. “I’ll see you later.”

Pushing past him, you avoided eye contact and left him standing alone at the top of the stairs. Jimin didn’t respond, but you heard his ragged exhale behind you as you left.

Shoving open the door to outside, you pulled a sweater from your bag and wrapped this around you. Blinking in the sunlight, you took another deep breath and began to walk down the street.

Jimin wasn’t the main reason you wanted to cry, though he was a part of it. Years of tension, resentment and competition had finally led you to explode – but beneath that, there ran a current of confusion.

Jimin had been waiting for you out in the hall.

Every explanation to this that you thought of sounded ridiculous, since Jimin hadn’t seemed mad or angry when he’d first called your name. An inkling of regret swirled through you and, somewhat uncomfortably, you wondered if you’d misjudged him.

Maybe you really were the only one holding onto this dumb rivalry. It’s just that Park Jimin could be so infuriating without even trying.

He had to know men had the advantage in dance – they always did. It was obvious each time you turned on the TV and watched any dance reality show. Women needed twice the stage presence, athleticism and musicality just to get on the same stage as a guy who taught himself to pop and lock in his basement.

It was even more infuriating because objectively, Jimin was better than you and – rationally – you knew you should ask him for help. This was the logical thing to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to dismiss your pride. Asking Jimin for help would be like admitting he was better and you absolutely refused to inflate his ego.

A few steps from Grace Hall, your phone dinged in your pocket and when you pulled it out, you saw Finn’s name on the screen. Rather than be elated by this, your heart sank a little. You two had made tentative plans to hang out but right now, the idea of seeing other people made you a bit nauseous.

Finn: hey, babe! Want to grab dinner tonight? My roommate is crashing at his family’s house this weekend, so we’d have the place to ourselves ;) [11:22 AM]

Your thumb hovered over the keys for a moment, wanting to say yes but Miss Britt’s words from earlier lingered in your mind. You were behind your fellow classmates. You needed a teacher, you needed a tutor and at the very least, you needed more practice.

Slowly, you typed out a response.

Y/N: Last minute practice was scheduled for tonight ☹ rain check for tomorrow? [11:23 AM]

Finn responded fast, somewhat disappointed but agreeing to your abrupt change of plans. You didn’t respond, shoving your phone in your bag to walk up the steps of your dorm.

You had lied to Finn. There wasn’t practice tonight, but you knew he wouldn’t agree with your assessment of the situation. Finn didn’t understand your world of dance, which wasn’t his fault. It also wasn’t his fault that his girlfriend had chosen such an intense career path which left little free time. Finn was a normal college student and understandably, he wanted to spend time with his girlfriend.

Once in your dorm room, you tossed your bag on the floor and slowly exhaled. Noelle wasn’t there, so you stood in the center and tightly closed your eyes. You allowed the silence wash over you, taking several deep breaths and when you finally opened your eyes, you felt a bit calmer.

The day consisted of lunch and two more classes – variations and pointe – but at the end of it all, you returned to your room and changed from your clothes. Tugging sweats and a t-shirt on over your body, you placed your leotard in your laundry and left the room.

Danley Hall was a short walk away; you’d heard from upperclassman that studio space was available on a first come, first serve basis. It got crowded at the end of the semester, when people were practicing for showcases, but it was fairly empty when you arrived at 7:30 PM.

Climbing the steps to the fourth floor, you let yourself into the first empty room you found. Setting your bag on the ground, you waited a moment before facing the mirrors.

The practice room smelled like wood, rosin and whatever cleaner they used on the glass. Outside the room the sun had begun to set, casting misshapen shadows over the floor. Plugging your phone into the speakers, you stepped from your shoes and slowly walked to the center.

As the first notes of music left the speakers, you closed your eyes and inhaled. For the first time all day, some of the tension drained from your body.

With wood beneath your feet, dust motes in the air and a familiar song on the stereo, you finally felt at home. Stretching both arms overhead, you rose on your toes and hung there a moment. When the music changed, you dropped to a lunge and let yourself be pulled by the music, your body one step ahead of your thinking.

Miss Britt was right; you weren’t a ballerina. You had no idea if you ever would be, but this was something known, this was something you were good at and something you loved. This was a moment where you came alive.

The longer you danced, the more frustrated your movement became. So much emotions swirled beneath the surface, frustration chasing each step as you danced across the floor. You tried to stay ahead of it, tried to dance beyond its reach but the emotions caught up in the end, dragging you down and swallowing you whole.

When the song ended, you found yourself breathing raggedly in front of the mirror. Staring at your own reflection, you felt your heart sink. It wouldn’t matter how much you loved this if you didn’t even make it through the first year.

After another moment, you turned and walked towards your phone. Switching the song to a classical one, you took a deep breath and went to stand at the barre.

As the first notes began, you rolled your neck and waited to count yourself in. While you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Jimin for help, that didn’t mean you couldn’t take matters into your own hands. You’d seek out other teachers, you’d find other students and you’d do this barre twice as often until you began to improve.

Opening your eyes, you began grand pliés.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#btsbookclub #smutcentralnet #bangtanarmynet #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin writing #jimin series #jimin dancer au #bts writing #bts series

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kinglazrus · 4 years ago

Text

Deep Wounds Ch. 2 - What Now?

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Word count: 4069

It takes ten minutes for everyone to change and clear out. During that time, an invisible Danny floats in one of the shower stalls, his gym bag clutched to his chest, one hand clamped around his mouth. If it hadn't been for Dash's shout of "No!" he might not have hidden in time. Danny only had a few seconds to snatch up his bandages and bag—but not the gauze—before the first person entered.

It was Tucker, thankfully. He gaped when he saw Danny and quickly waved for him to hide. Just in time, too, since Elliot was only a few steps behind.

Now, Danny can only hear a single person shuffling about.

"It's clear," Tucker whispers.

Danny floats through the door of the shower stall, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees the empty change room. He drops his invisibility and dumps his stuff on the floor in favour of clutching his side. "Why didn't I stay home today?"

"Because you want to graduate this year and you can't afford another absence." Tucker grabs his gym shirt off the floor, revealing the forgotten gauze pad, and sighs at the new stains. "I really liked this shirt."

"Sorry, man."

"Dude, you are literally bleeding. Shut up. You don't need to apologize. Just be glad I got my shirt off before Elliot could see the damn thing." Tucker grabs the gauze, rolls it into a ball, and tosses it toward the garbage can. "Ten points!"

The gauze bounces off the rim and falls to the floor.

"Zero points," Danny says.

"Rude."

"Hey, I'm bleeding, remember?"

"That only gets you a pass from saying sorry, not common decency."

Danny's shoulders shake as he laughs. It hurts, making his left side throbbing, but trying to hold it back hurts worse. "Ow, ow, ow," he says, gasps of pain interrupting him. Curling over, he hugs his side even tighter, fighting back a sharp cry. The tension in his body doesn't help, but the pressure on his side feels good.

"Sam on her way?" Danny asks.

"She's grabbing the first-aid kit from my locker. I'll fix you up this time. We all know I have steadier hands." That A-plus in home ec isn't for nothing.

"Thanks," Danny mumbles.

"Yeah, dude. We've got you."

After Sam arrives, Tucker redoes Danny's stitches in record time. Half of the lunch hour has passed by the time Danny gets patched up, but he doesn't feel hungry anyway. Tucker takes his and Danny's bloody gym shirts and stuffs them into the first-aid kit.

"I need to refill on some supplies at home," Tucker explains. "I'll get rid of these there."

"Good idea. My mom found a pair of jeans I forgot to throw away after a fight with Skulker. I had a hard time explaining that one away," Danny says. The "I tripped into a window" excuse probably only works once, anyway. "But we have another problem."

"Dash?" Sam asks.

Danny nods. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"He was acting weird when gym ended. Wouldn't let anyone come inside until we pushed him out of the way."

"Huh." Danny certainly didn't expect that. Dash might be a downright bully anymore, but he's still not prone to random acts of kindness. "That's... weird." It doesn't make up for him tearing Danny's wound back open, even if it was an accident, but it's something.

"I think we might not have to worry about him," Sam says.

Danny stares at her, incredulous. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, actually. He could have done anything when he saw the rest of the class coming, including telling everyone that you were hurt. But he stopped them instead."

"But this is Dash."

"That's surprising coming from you."

"What does that even mean? You guys and Valerie are being so weird today. Come on, Tucker. Back me up." Danny looks at Tucker, fully expecting him to be on Danny's side.

Tucker doesn't respond right away. Biting his thumbnail, he stares ahead at the floor, deep in thought. That alone is enough to send Danny for a loop. When Tucker does answer, Danny's jaw drops in disbelief.

"I'm with Sam on this."

"For real?"

"Yeah, man. We don't even know what Dash thinks he saw, anyway. What happened when he walked in?" Tucker asks.

Danny tells them, sparing no detail.

"Oh, wow."

Sam shakes her head. "I'll say. I can't believe you wailed at him."

"Almost. I almost wailed at him. It was a baby wail at most. More of a hum," Danny says. He was just so surprised when Dash walked in. Danny's instincts took over and all he could think about was getting Dash out of there as soon as possible. He is lucky no one else came running.

"That already will have freaked him out. If we go around making a big deal about it and getting in his face, that'll make things worse." Sam stands up from the floor, stretching her arms over her head. She looks completely unconcerned, so does Tucker for that matter. Both of them are content to let Dash be. "Let's wait to see what he does. If he starts spreading rumours, we'll know right away, and then we can confront him."

"On the other hand, he might go to you, Danny, first," Tucker adds. He takes a bottle of Aspirin from the first-aid kit and presses it into Danny's hand before zipping the bag up. "He might not do anything."

The bottle of Aspirin rattles as Danny twists the lid off. "I can't believe you guys are okay with this." He dumps a couple of pills into his palm and tosses them back. Wordlessly, Sam passes him a water bottle. One quick swig is all he needs to help the pills go down. "He could be telling everyone right now."

"He could," Sam admits. "But he won't."

Sam and Tucker get up to leave, and Danny's forced to follow, or else get left behind. He trails after them, stiff, sore, and aching. The pills won't kick in for a while, and he loathes having to walk now. If he could get away with it, he would spend the rest of the day floating through the halls.

Tragically, he has a secret to protect. One that is very much at risk right now, despite what Sam says. Wherever she and Tucker are getting their confidence from, Danny doesn't share it. He just hopes they're right.

Dash tries to hold it in. He really does. The sound of Danny's anger bearing down on him, reverberating through the change room, hasn't stopped rattling around his head. But as lunch nears its end, the words burst out of him.

"I think Fenton is in a gang or something," Dash says.

The table falls silent.

Kwan freezes in place, hand halfway to his mouth, and a piece of meatloaf falls off his fork. "You... what?"

"I think Danny is in a gang," Dash repeats, softer.

His friends gape at him, equally confused. Mostly. Star doesn't even look up from her math homework. In fact, Dash thinks she's smiling, but he ignores it.

"Kwan, I thought you said Danny was the one who got hit during gym class," Paulina says. She pushes her lunch aside and leans across the table, lifting a hand to Dash's forehead. "Are you sure you got it right?"

"I'm fine, Paulie." Dash ducks under his hand and hunkers low to the table. When no one else moves, he gestures for them to come closer. Kwan does so immediately. Paulina rolls her eyes but obliges.

"I'm good," Star says.

"Okay, so, I checked on Fenton after dropping him off, 'cause he looked kind of bad, and I guess, I don't know. I felt... whatever. It doesn't matter. But like, he had this huge cut."

Paulina grins and leans in closer, finally looking invested. "You felt kind of 'whatever?'"

Dash scowls. "Seriously, Paulie?"

"You're the one who said it!" Paulina smacks the table, a fit of giggles bursting from her. It's her "I've found some juicy gossip" noise and Dash hates it.

"Did you even hear me? Huge cut and all that?" Dash says.

Kwan shrugs. "I don't know. His parents build a lot of crazy stuff, don't they? He probably hurt himself on one of those. Did you see that new gun they were toting around last week? It melted Mr. Lancer's car!"

"Oh, my God. I totally saw that. I felt so bad for him," Paulina says.

Dash frowns down at the table while the conversation plods on. True, everyone knows the Fentons have some crazy inventions. But everything they make, they make to hurt ghosts, not people. Everyone in town has been caught in the Fentons crossfire at one point or another. Dash still remembers the disgusting taste of the Fenton Foamers. Like warm, month-old key lime yogurt. Disgusting, but ultimately harmless.

And Danny didn't just have a little cut. It was huge. Dash only got a brief look at it, but that short glance told him everything he needed to know. Something, or someone, had hurt Danny. Rather than going to the hospital—because no trained professional would do such a sloppy job—Danny fixed it himself or got his friends to fix it. The injury had to be new, too, since it was still bleeding.

But stitches could bleed if you ripped them, didn't treat the injury right. Judging by the placement, Danny's stitches must pull every time he moves his arm.

Could one of his parents' guns have done that?

Now that Dash thinks about it, he doesn’t remember ever seeing Danny get hit with his parents' weapons. Not their guns, at least. They have that dumb boomerang thing that he's seen smack Danny on the back of the head. Actually, that one hits Danny a lot.

Dash's frown deepens, etching into his face. Why on Earth would one of Danny's own parents' inventions hurt him so much? Unless...

"Hey, guys?" Dash asks, interrupting Star mid-sentence.

"You found more proof of Fenton's gang activities?" Paulina asks.

"What if, like, someone's hurting him?"

"You mean one of his gang buddies?"

"No, Paulie, I'm serious. What if someone is hurting him?"

The table falls silent once more, but this time, his friends' expressions are serious rather than disbelieving.

Kwan lowers his voice. "Do you really think... I mean, Fenton?"

"Well..." Star taps her chin. "Where was he hurt?"

"Here." Dash taps his ribs on his left side, under his arm.

Star nods. "Okay. Are you sure he couldn't have, you know...." She trails off, but Dash already knows what she means.

"No way. He could hardly see the cut, much less do it himself. And it was bad."

"So he was hurt, badly, in a place that no one else would normally see. He didn't miss any school, so he probably didn't go to the hospital. Was it recent?"

Dash nods. "There was blood. Too much to just be because of the stitches."

Star drums her fingers on the table, nodding slowly. "I think you could be right."

The A-listers glance around the table, meeting each other's eyes. None of them say anything, but the same question lurks in all their minds. Now what?

In the days following the change room debacle, Danny avoids Dash like his life depends on it. Which it might. Any time he sees Dash in the hall, he turns right around and walks away. When they're in class, Danny stares straight ahead and refuses to look Dash's way. In gym class, Tetslaff lets him sit out, finally. Having Danny blackout on her after she forced him to play must have spooked her because she benches him before he can even ask not to play.

"No student of mine is gonna pass out on my watch. Twice," she says.

It won't last forever, but Danny will take what he can get, while he can get it.

But the thing is, Dash doesn't try anything. It's surreal. For the past four years, Danny has grown accustomed to Dash's constant harassment. Even when it dropped significantly in sophomore year, Dash never stopped. He threw erasers at Danny during class, tripped him in the halls, called out teasing names every chance he got.

"I'm not the only one who thinks this is weird, right?" Danny asks Tucker on the third day.

Already done his lunch, Tucker is thoroughly engrossed by his phone and doesn't look up as he replies. "You think everything is weird lately."

"Because it is."

"Missing your quality time with Dash?" Tucker flashes a quick grin in Danny's direction before returning to his phone.

"Har, har. You are so funny." Danny would have to be some kind of masochist to miss Dash's badgering. It's just... strange, not to have to watch the halls for him in that way. It doesn't make Danny watch any less—in fact, he finds himself looking for Dash more than before. So that he can run away if he gets close. Except Dash isn't even trying, and that annoys the hell out of him.

Tucker sighs, finally putting down his phone, and rests a hand on Danny's head. "Such a hopeless young soul. Can't even understand your own heart."

Danny slaps the hand away. "Says the guy who asked out every girl in school because they all made him feel the same way because it turns out he's super ace and didn't actually feel anything for any of them."

"And what an emotional journey that was." Tucker faces Danny head-on. "Look, Danny. If it's bothering you that much, then go talk to him. Feed him some excuse about what happened. Just remember that there's a reason Sam and I think it will be okay."

Danny ponders Tucker's advice for the rest of the day. The weekend starts tomorrow, which gives him two whole Dash-free days to think about the situation. Maybe a little time to himself as what he needs. He goes for a flight after school rather than walking home with Tucker; being in the air always helps clear his head.

He soars far above the city until he is little more than a pinprick to everyone far below. At the peak of his flight, his phone rings. The caller ID shows it's Jazz.

"What's up?" he greets his sister.

"Taken over my room yet?" Jazz asks.

"When you've only been at college for a month? Of course." It made a great storage space. Danny turns over to float on his stomach and starts drifting down like a leaf, falling back and forth on the wind.

"Well, I'm gonna need it back this weekend."

"Dropping out already?"

"You wish. I got a tutoring gig: two sessions—Saturday and Sunday. I don't want to do the two hours there and back both days, so I'm coming home for the weekend."

"I can't believe someone is actually paying to spend time with you. Hope the loser doesn't rub off on them."

Jazz laughs. "Pretty sure any loser on my came from you. And it's four people. Actually, you know them."

When Danny comes downstairs Saturday morning and sees Jazz's students at the kitchen table, he stops dead.

"You have got to be kidding me," he says.

"Hi, Danny!" Paulina waves, far too perky for nine in the morning. Squished around the table with her, Kwan and Star offer their own small waves. Dash looks straight down at his textbook.

"Goodbye." Danny pivots and marches back toward the stairs. Forget breakfast; he didn't want to eat, anyway. He can still have a nice, relaxing, Dash-free day in the confines of his bedroom.

A cascade of whispers reaches his ears as he hits the first stair. The A-listers murmur too quiet for him to make out what they're saying, although he thinks he catches his name more than once. Maybe they're talking about how uncanny it is being inside his house. Or, perhaps, they're discussing the new school nurse, Tammy. But even as he thinks it, he knows neither theory is true.

A chair screeches in the kitchen, the plastic capped legs scraping against the linoleum. Danny throws himself up the stairs.

"Oh, Danny, wait!" Paulina's silky voice follows him.

He jerks to a stop at the landing, cringing. How mad would she be if he ignored her? It's funny to think that a few years ago his heart would have leapt at Paulina calling out his name, back when he had a crush on her.

His toes curl against the carpet as he hesitates; the pros and cons of ignoring her run through his head. Pro: he won't have to deal with whatever scheme she's up to, and Paulina is most certainly up to something. Con: she might sic Dash on him, and he's the last person Danny wants to see right now. But that's a moot point because Dash is already here. After some humming and hawing, he grits his teeth and turns back around.

Paulina hangs out the kitchen doorway, greeting him with a bright smile.

"Yes, Paulina?" Danny asks.

It should be physically impossible for her smile to get any wider, and yet it does. "You're having trouble in science class, right?"

Danny hesitates. "Maybe. Why?"

"So are we! We came here for a study session with your sister, since she was Casper's best student in thirty decades. You should join us!"

"Isn't Star acing all her classes? And I thought science was your best class."

Paulina rolls her eyes and huffs, but without any malice. It reminds him of the look Tucker gives his little cousins when they are being intentionally obstinate. Danny flushes, suddenly feeling stupid even though he doesn't understand why.

"Yeah, we're good at it, but the boys aren't. Duh." She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. "It's easier to study in a group."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I like studying alone."

Paulina's smile doesn't fall, but it changes. Danny can't quite place what it turns into. Her mouth curves upward and her teeth are exposed; objectively, it's still a smile. But there's a new tension to it, one Danny only notices now, but he thinks might have been there the whole time, lurking behind the bright façade. His grip on the newel post tightens, the wood creaking beneath his finger.

At times like this, Danny wishes his ghost abilities included reading emotions. The look Paulina is giving him is important, he can feel it, even though he can't explain it. But it doesn't mean anything if he can't decipher it.

"If you say so." The moment shatters. Paulina withdraws back into the kitchen, leaving Danny alone and wondering if he missed something important.

Down the hall from him, Jazz's bedroom door opens. She emerges with an armful of books—old schoolbooks, Danny notes.

"Not hanging out with Sam and Tucker today?" she asks.

"Jazz, it's not even noon yet. I don't think Tucker's awake." Danny glances down the stairs toward the kitchen, mulling something over in his head. "I kind of want some alone time today. I know you're tutoring and everything, but could you make sure they don't bother me?"

Jazz frowns. "Is everything okay?"

"There was an... incident with Dash at school."

"Boy troubles?"

"Jazz!" Danny's entire face turns scarlet. "Please never say that about Dash." He lowers his voice. "It was ghost-related troubles."

Jazz's expression goes stony, her teasing smile replaced by a serious frown. "Do I need to take care of him for you?"

"Oh, my God, Jazz! Just keep him away from my room!" He marches the rest of the way to his room to the sound of Jazz's snickers and slams the door behind him.

When Paulina returns to the kitchen, Dash sits up straighter. She shakes her head as she reclaims her seat next to Star. Dash deflates again.

"I told you this wouldn't work," Dash says.

"Don't be so silly. That wasn't even plan A, although it would make things easier. Are you sure you didn't do anything to him in that change room?" Paulina asks.

Dash groans. "Please. Please never say anything like that again. It sounds so wrong."

"You're the one who took it that way."

Star and Kwan laugh at Dash's misfortune, watching him bury his face in his arms. When Star suggested they gather evidence, to confirm whether or not Danny was being abused at home, this wasn't what Dash expected. He pictured spy movie antics with them sneaking through the bushes dressed all in black, peeking through windows until they say something that proved—or disproved—their theory.

Things would go a lot easier if Dash could actually talk to Danny, but ever since that moment in the change room, he can't. He knows Danny has been avoiding him, which is better short term. If Danny walked up to Dash right now demanding to talk about what happened, Dash wouldn't know what to say.

How many times has he hurt Danny (pushed, kicked, body-checked) when he was injured? There's a possibility, however slim, that this was a fluke, the first time Danny has ever come to school injured. There have to be loads of reasons someone might not go to the hospital, such as bad insurance. Dash's cousin broke her nose once and let it heal crooked instead of going to the doctor since it was cheaper. He's heard stories of people sacrificing their health rather than paying exorbitant hospital fees. It's not impossible.

Except Danny's parents are inventors. They do projects for the government and can afford to throw money around for ridiculous ghost hunting contraptions. The Emergency Ops Centre only two floors above them must have cost millions. If that's the case, then surely his parents can afford a hospital visit for such a bad wound.

Dash doesn’t like to think about the alternative, but he has to. The alternative is the whole reason he and his friends are here.

That doesn't help with Dash's other dilemma, though. How is he supposed to talk to Fenton, now? Dash doesn't think he knows how to interact with Danny without some form of aggression. Even when he stopped outright bullying people, he never stopped with Danny. A push here, a shove there. It is instinct for Dash to stick his foot out if he sees Danny coming.

Danny even returns the favour, sometimes, growing bolder the older they became. Dash still doesn't know how Danny keeps getting into his stuffed bear collection, but it's not unusual for him to find one in his locker or sitting at his desk when he returns to class.

It's what they do. Dash can't help it. Any time he manages to trip Danny up enough that he gets a glare or a vengeful smile, it makes him feel good.

But he can't do that now. If Danny is actually getting hurt at home, Dash can't in his right mind keep agitating him. Just thinking about what he did to Danny's stitches makes him pale. He doesn't even want to think about what other wounds he's made worse over the years.

And he has. Dash knows this without a doubt. Thinking back on their interactions this year alone, more than five occasions come to mind where Danny grimaced, or flinched, or clutched some part of his body after Danny bumped his shoulder in the hall. It feels him with an indescribable dread, but the worst of it is he can't understand why.

He never knew Danny was injured; he can't be entirely to blame. Thinking that does nothing to assuage his guilt, though.

"Okay!" Jazz Fenton announces herself with a bright chirp. She clutches a stack of textbooks to her chest; books Dash recognizes from their classes. The idea that she stole them from the school flashes through his mind, but that's ludicrous. Jazz doesn't have a criminally minded bone in her body. If anything, she bought them, or the school gave them to her for being that amazing. Either option is more likely than her committing a crime.

Jazz slams the books down on the table directly across from Dash. She flashes him a brilliant smile as she sits and folds her hands over the table.

"So, Dash." She tilts her head. Her smile no longer looks kind. "I've heard some interesting things about you."

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#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #dash baxter #swagger bishie #danny/dash #deepwounds

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

Text

He’s channeling his energy productively.

Jaune walked down the halls of Beacon backed to his dorm, it had been a long day so far, not a hard day though, just one of those days that kept going and seemed like they wouldn’t end. Making it back to his room would at least let him spend the rest of day how’d like.

The sounds of laughter followed a group of older girls walked pasted him. It was outside of class time so the students could wear whatever they wanted. They wore clothes that were made to go clubbing.

Jaune’s eyes had a life of their own as they stared at the girls walking past, you’d think having seven sisters would make him more respectful wouldn’t you? But, having a lesbian older sister, and a couple others that were bi, all they did was teach him how to peak without getting caught.

That said he’d doubt his friends would call him out for staring, considering some of the girls here had assets that would give Yang pause.

They didn’t notice him pausing and walked by, a fragrant fruity perfume left behind. Jaune couldn’t help but look behind him, watching those girls go, a sway in their step that cause something in Jaune to rise up.

“Dammit,” Jaune cursed as his pants tightened up.

Jaune look around before he adjusted his pants, so that his zipper wouldn’t fly off by accident again, and tucking his erection down his pant leg so that it’d be less noticeable.

Jaune felt frustration well up in him, this had become a reoccurring problem since he started Beacon. The girls here were just too damn hot! It made walking anywhere a damn hassle and a embarrassment, and he had no way to release any of his damn tension in his dorm, Nora had broken the locks to the bathroom and the door; That had probably been the closest he had ever come to killing somebody.

Letting out an other sigh he resigned himself to shuffling back to the dorm as the blood went flowing elsewhere. He should just thank his lucky stars that he’d never popped a boner anywhere near Ruby, Yang would have found out somehow, probably Nora, and then killed him.

Right as he got close to the dorms, Jaune’s blood-flow was back to normal, but he still felt tense and incredibly worked up.

The sound of weights being lifted, treadmills running, and other exercise equipment sounded from nearby.

The gym was only a short walk away from the dorms. Jaune paused for a moment, Nora and Yang always seemed to go to the gym when they go worked up, maybe he should try it, it’s not like he didn’t go often anyway, so what would it hurt to work out so stress?

---------

Jaune stared at the scroll in his hands, ‘10:03′ where did the time go? He went in at ‘4:26′, went to the weight rack, and then everything seemed to go into a blur, and then the next thing he remembered was a upperclassman telling him the gym was closing in soon.

“Guess, I had more stress to work out than I thought I did.” Jaune said to himself walking to the gym showers, suddenly starting to feel exhausted and wanting to jump into bed at the closest opportunity.

-----------

The next morning was agonizing, his arms felt like they were made of pure, while on fire and being pulled apart! Maybe he went too hard last night.

He was also feeling cavernously hungry. No wonder Nora has an appetite like a black-hole.

------

Jaune’s problem came back in full force during lunch when Yang leaned too far back and the top couple buttons of her shirt decided they wanted a life in the air force.

Leaving Jaune with a delicious view of her cleavage.

Yang looked at her shirt, “Shoot, I actually liked this one.” She then resumed eating.

A hand caressing his leg, brought him out of his vision. “Are you alright, Jaune?” Pyrrha’s warm, gentle voice whispered into his ear

A mildly blush went up his face. “Yeah, just, uh, taking in the view.”

“Oh, ok then, but if your not feeling well, I can take you back to the room.”

“I’m good.” Jaune said a little too fast, as his mind started to fill in the blanks of what his monkey brain wanted to do to Pyrrha.

Pyrrha nodded.

Jaune felt thankful that Yang or Nora hadn’t found a chance to tease him about being alone with Pyrrha.

Lunch came and went, and Jaune made sure he was the last to get up, so that his problem wouldn’t be seen. He couldn’t exactly fiddle with himself under the table without drawing attention. So with all the swiftness he had, he tucked himself into his pant-leg while getting up.

In hindsight, maybe walking behind his developed female friends, and especially Blake, was a bad idea. His other head disagreed with him.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, combat class was a mess, but mostly cause he can’t being drawn to his friend outfits, they showed so much leg.

He went back to the gym again after class, he went to the treadmill and leg exercise machine. The upperclassman had to tell him to leave again.

-------

The rest of the week seemed to follow a similar pattern for Jaune, he’d wake up sore, but a little less so each day, go to class, end up aroused, then pent up, then go to the gym when he had the free time, and only when he had free time, going into those workout trances made him lose anytime for studying, hanging out, or training.

Training with Pyrrha was probably the hardest part of his week, literally and metaphorical, because while he loved Pyrrha like a sister, his body constantly reminded him that they were not siblings! It always made him feel disgusted when ever he looked at Pyrrha that way. No way Pyrrha ever looked at him that way.

After training with Pyrrha though, he still had two hours before the gym closed, and he was pent up again.

The upperclassman had told him to get an alarm or something, cause he wouldn’t always be there to tell him to leave.

-------------

Hanging out with team RWBY was always a... Experience, they were fun, don’t get him wrong, but it was like chaos in a bottle. The bottle was also cracked, and there was no cork either.

Today he and the rest of his team came over to hangout, and Ruby insisted they play twister.

Jaune was forming a bridge with his arms bending backwards to stay on there spot, while Ruby was draped across him with one leg over his shoulder and the other over his arm, with her front laying across his stomach, and her arms going in between and around his legs. While Nora lay under him her chest pressing into his back. It was also a really small mat.

Everybody else had dropped out, or refused to play, while Blake controlled the game, and Yang video taped everything.

Then Nora sneezed into his neck. That was the straw that broke the camels back. Sneeze both tickled his neck and scared the life out of Jaune, as he somehow managed to jump a foot into the air from his position, carrying Ruby with him. They landed on Nora with a thud.

Jaune’s position with Nora’s chest on his back and Ruby’s legs on his chest, really wasn’t going to help with his tension, as his lower-body decided to achieve liftoff.

That said he had managed to get a grip on himself lately,. So Jaune calmly got off Nora, and picked up Ruby, putting her next to Nora. All while hiding his full mast, then went to the gym again.

“You think he’s alright?” Ruby asked innocently.

“Probably just rubbing one out.” Nora said full of confidence. “These sweater puppy's of mine are of a quality most women can only dream of, yet here I sit, my majesty a reality, I don’t blame Jaune at all.”

------------

Jaune was watching with wrapt attention as Ms. Goodwitch strode across the arena pointing out several flaws in recorded fights she had on holographic videos. Tapping them with her wand to enhance the smaller images at time.

RIIIP

Her blouse broke, showing off globes of creamy white flesh barely being contained by a purple bra.

Ms. Goodwitch paused, a light blush on her face. “Well, Students this should teach us to be prepared for anything.”

Jaune then got up, walking out the door.

“Mr. Arc, where do you think your going?” His teacher asked severely, as several laughs broke out of the room, many people pointing at him.

“To the gym. I don’t think I’m going to be able to focus much today.” “Very well, any others who wished to join him?”

The gym was very packed that day.

------

Jaune enjoyed hanging out with Pyrrha, she was probably the best friend he ever had. He just wished she would stop having to bend over so often in front of him, or walking in front of him when she did that he couldn’t help but focus on her swaying hips.

Jaune sighed as he felt a rise tower start to erect. “I’m going to the gym be back later.”

Pyrrha merely looked bewildered. She though she had him for sure this time!

----

The transfer students were interesting people, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. They came from all walks of life, all paths, all creeds and kingdoms. From the strictly dressed military like Atlas Academy, to the survival of the fittest types and loosely dressed Shade Academy, or the storied and traditional style of Mistral. They were all interesting, diverse, strong and incredible sexy.

Ever since he ran into that black haired girl and her green haired partner, he somehow kept managing to find them in the most compromising or revealing positions possible.

So, Jaune started hitting the gym harder than ever.

--------------

1 Year later....

----

With a slight shaking arms Jaune pushed the loaded bar back up, exhaling. Then he took a slow, deep inhale as he lowered it down to his chest, then exhaled rising it up again. Inhale, exhale, till he finished his rep.

He rose up from the bench with a grate moan, feeling the warm soreness across his body. It hurt, but in a good way. In a way he couldn’t have appreciated a year ago.

Grabbing his towel he wiped the sweat off his face, and then cleaned off the bench. Treat the gym right, and it’ll treat you right back.

Jaune paused as he walked toward the shower, he had gotten into a habit of showering here so he didn’t have to make his teammate's rush to clean up, there was wall of mirror he looked himself over finding nothing of note, beside himself sweaty and his hair kinda sticky looking.

The water was cold, but high pressured, helping unwind any knots on his back and wash off grime better. He had started taking cold showers more frequently as in the field your rarely got to wash off in general, and if you did, it’s not likely you’ll get hot water, so it he thought it was probably best to get into the habit now.

Working out felt good, taking a shower afterword was just perfect. The only thing that would make it better was wearing his onesie, he had a right to comfort! But, it had gone mysteriously missing after he met Coco on his walk back from the gym half a year ago. So, for now he was stuck wearing white tank-top, and a pair of cotton shorts back to the dorm.

He waved by to the upperclassman about to close the gym, and left for his dorm. He may not have started going to the gym for the right reason, but over the course of a year, he felt like he had grown from then. In fact... what was the reason he started going to the gym? Something about women? Eh, must have been nothing. Ever since he started taking his training double seriously during the Vytal festival, it was like he just didn’t feel dating anybody till he around to being a huntsman, like that there was more to life than dating or stuff.

Jaune ran a hand through his hair, he had started growing it out at the beginning of the second year and now Pyrrha and everybody else vetoed him getting a hair cut!

“Hahah, jokes on them though, they have to brush the knots out of my hair!”

Walking back to his dorm a fruity perfume pasted his nose, a vaguely familar laughter along with it. Then a slightly familar group of girls were walking in the opposite direction as him. They looked like they came back from a night on the town. He liked the way they dressed, it complimented themselves very well.

As he walked pasted them they paused and stared at him, Jaune paused too, but shrugged, giving them a broad smile and a wave before walking back to his dorm.

Jaune failed to miss the women eyeing fucking him as he walked away, all of them red face and heavy breathing.

“Hmm, why do I feel like I’m in danger?”

----------

Jaune wasn’t sure when, but he had grown into a morning person. It was fun to get up in the morning now, he liked watching the sun rise, seeing the sky change colors on his morning runs.

Being team leader meant having responsibilities, so being a early riser now meant getting up his team, they were going to be third-years in a not small amount of time. So he made sure that they got up at a reasonable time to prepare for the day. Along with the fact on mission they would have to get up before the sun rise on most days.

Also, he especially liked to watch his teammates get up, it was entertaining in different ways from Nora crashing out of bed, to Ren rising from a blanket cocoon, and Pyrrha’s silly little death threats to any man stealing bitches out there.

He tended to wake them up with a gentle approach putting hand on there shoulders and carefully shaking them awake. He had forgotten how strong he was a couple of months ago when he sent Nora flying into a wall by accident, so had tried to be gentle.

The rest of Team Jnpr had learned a couple months ago that they no longer had a choice in waking up early, the only choice was before the sun was up or after.

Jaune put on his uniform for class, he frowned a little bit, as it was tighter than it was yesterday. Maybe it’s new? Guess it needs to be broken in.

Team RWBY met them at breakfast, Ruby refused to let her other bestie get ahead in the leader game by letting just JNPR get up early! Jaune didn’t notice but he often got murderous glances from Blake.

Eating breakfast Jaune felt a crick in his back so he leaned back.

Pop-pop-pop-pop, RIIIIP!

His buttons on his shirt fired off like a machine gun shattering against the walls of the cafeteria, and then his shirt fell to pieces, revealing his sculpted torso, arms and abs.

“Ahh man, I liked that shirt.” Then continued eating, not aware of the stares his friends, other students, and Ms. Goodwitch were giving his body, eyeing him up as much or more than he used to do to them.

AN: If this Jaune was ever put into a situation where couldn’t exercise for like a week, his libido would come back with vengeance and make him a unstoppable sex monster. That said, what are the odds of that happening?

#Jaune Arc #Not quite crack #Slight Himboification #Team JNPR #Team RWBY #Glynda Goodwitch

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: Geraskier modern au. Jaskier bringing Geralt home on holiday. They’re pretending to date so Jaskier’s parents won’t bombard him asking when he’ll find someone and when they’ll have grandkids. Maybe even a fake engagement? They’re both pining without even realizing and maybe a mistletoe kiss on Christmas Eve will open their eyes. (geraskier-trashh)

Dani <3 I always seem to vibe with your prompts! Once again this is 2.3k. I didn’t get the mistletoe in but... well. I’m pretty happy with it. Fake dating at Christmas!! 💖

Warnings: Some hurt/comfort feels, I’m pretty sure everyone cries at one point or another, lots of pining. ______________

Jaskier and Geralt stood in the doorway to Jaskier’s old childhood room. One single bed was pushed up against the wall, posters of Jaskier’s old favourite bands plastered around the room. Jaskier was gripping Geralt’s hand too tightly, having not let go from when he’d dragged Geralt upstairs to get away from the interrogation of his family. Geralt let out a long sigh and pulled them both into the room, dumping his rucksack on the ground in the corner.

“Ah, I. umm…. I seem to have miscalculated,” Jaskier stammered.

“No shit.”

“I thought, you know. Huge mansion!” He flung his arms out as if to make a point. “I didn’t expect that we’d have to… you know.”

“It didn’t occur to you that it might look strange if we don’t share?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier huffed and put his hands on his hips, tossing his fringe from his eyes. Geralt was moving around the tiny room, his banged up bass case finding space next to Jaskier’s violin, his black hoody thrown over the old desk chair in the corner. Jaskier felt a tug at his heartstrings as he watched Geralt carve out a space for himself in Jaskier’s old bedroom, just like he’d carved out a Geralt sized space in Jaskier’s hearts oh so many years ago. Jaskier flexed his fingers and pulled his necklace pendant into his mouth, this was such a bad idea. What had he been thinking?

It was own bloody fault for lying to his parents for years behind Geralt’s back. It had just been so hard with their constant pressure to find a partner whilst he was pining helplessly over his best friend, so he’d lied and for five years he’d managed to find excuses for avoiding the family Christmas meet up. This year his luck had run out and he’d had to come clean to his friend. He’d thought Geralt was going to murder him at first, his face had gone bright red with rage and he’d not said a bloody word, which was just Geralt all over. Over a tense dinner of instant noodles and boxed wine, Geralt had muttered that he’d do it… and so, here they were.

“Yeah, well, I forgot.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You forgot? That you’d told your parents that we’ve been dating for five years?”

“Six years… Our anniversary was two weeks ago,” Jaskier muttered, shuffling awkwardly on his feet and giving Geralt a sheepish smile.

“Our anniversary? For fuck’s sake, Jask.”

“I’m sorry! I meant to tell them we’d broken up but—”

“But what?”

“—but they always seemed so happy that I wasn’t alone, and to be honest it was nice.”

Geralt scoffed. “Nice?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I. I didn’t feel so alone.”

Geralt sighed and pulled him into a hug. Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s chest and whined. “You’re my best friend, Jask.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, grateful that Geralt couldn’t see his face. He could feel the lump in his throat, a dull never-ending ache in his chest. Best friend. That’s what they were, he should be thankful that Geralt allowed him that much, but fuck he loved him so damn much. No matter how much Jaskier flirted with Geralt, called him cute little nicknames, and practically admitted his love for his friend on a daily basis… Geralt never saw him as anything more than a friend, but god he drove Jaskier mad. He was always so damned thoughtful all the time, cooking dinner when Jaskier was at work even though Jaskier could never return the favour, hence the instant noodles for dinner, or letting Jaskier choose the film when he’d had a bad anxiety day, which happened more often than he liked to admit.

Geralt was his best friend, he was the bestest friend that anyone could ask for so really Jaskier couldn’t complain. He was just… hopelessly in love.

He laughed and pulled back from the hug. “Don’t you mean boyfriend?” He waggled his eyebrows and bopped Geralt’s nose.

“Hmm, fine, but we have got to break up by next year.”

Jaskier’s hand flew to his heart, gasping as he totally pretended to be completely heartbroken. There wasn’t an ounce of reality in the way his heart literally felt like it was shattering in a million pieces. He scoffed, covering up the way his hands were shaking by tugging at the edge of his jumper. “Fine, but I get to dump you.”

“Nope, it’s your mess. I’m breaking up with you,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and glared at Geralt. “As if you would break up with this arse!” He laughed and turned to wiggle his butt at Geralt.

“I’ve seen better.”

Jaskier gasped and turned to poke Geralt in the chest. “Take that back!”

“Not going to happen.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier flung himself dramatically into Geralt’s arms, Geralt caught him as he always did, and Jaskier pouted up at him. “You’re mean.”

“Are you boys fighting already?”

Jaskier squeaked as Geralt dropped him to the floor. His mother was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed in front of her chest, a smirk on her face. “No. No no no. Of course not, nope. Geralt?”

“No, Mrs Pankratz.” Geralt pulled him to his feet and Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist, placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“All good here, mother!”

“Dinner’s ready, hurry up.”

“We’ll be there in just a jiffy!” Jaskier sang as he leant into Geralt’s side. As his mother’s footsteps faded off down the hall he reached up to whisper in Geralt’s ear, “Showtime, darling.”

Geralt groaned. “Fuck.” ________________

Dinner wasn’t going too badly. Luckily Geralt and Jaskier had been best friends for most of their lives so there wasn’t much they didn’t know about each other. Honestly the only thing really missing from their friendship to make it more of a traditionally romantic one was the snogging. They went out of friend dates all the time, they lived together, and in all honesty they loved each other. Jaskier just made sure to double the use of pet names in front of his family, and he allowed himself to touch Geralt as much as he wanted, which was pretty much always. They held hands on top of the table, awkwardly eating one handed. Jaskier brought Geralt’s knuckles to his lips in between main and dessert, winking at his friend. It was so fucking easy to believe this was real. For two days he was getting everything he ever wanted. He was going to be heartbroken when this was over.

Geralt flushed and growled under his breath before kissing Jaskier’s cheek, much to delight of Jaskier’s parents.

“Julian, you know we won’t be offended if you want to kiss your boyfriend properly?”

Jaskier’s heart sank and he gripped Geralt’s hand tighter. They hadn’t discussed this. They really should have discussed this, but Jaskier had assumed two days without kissing in front of his parents would have been fine. Of course, his mother would decide to be cool. “Mother, really?” He groaned and hid his face in Geralt’s arm.

“You’ve been dating for six years, Julian. Your father had proposed by then when we were dating,” his mother sighed and smiled ever so sweetly at his father. “Don’t be shy, honey.”

“Mother!” Jaskier whined.

Geralt cleared his throat and Jaskier gazed up at his friend. There was a mischievous glint in Geralt’s eyes that Jaskier did not like the look of. He shook his head slowly at Geralt but it was too late. “Actually, Mrs Pankratz. I umm… I did have something to ask Jaskier,”

“Geralt…”

“The umm… well I wrapped it, but I guess now is as good as ever,” Geralt stood up and pulled Jaskier into the living room, ignoring his protests. Geralt pulled a small wrapped box from the tree, kneeling at Jaskier’s feet as he hand him the box.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide… what the actual fuck was happening? Jaskier thought back to his Christmas list. It was mostly nerdy shit and stuff for his instruments… nerdy shit. “Oh bollocks!” He yelled as he remembered a very specific piece of costume jewellery he’d asked for.

Was Geralt about to fake propose using the ring… like… the ring… from Lord of the Rings? Oh god, he was going to die from embarrassment. Jaskier’s hands shook as he tore at the wrapping paper. The velvety box fell into his hands, the familiar Elvish inscription was pressed into the black velvet. He hid a laugh behind his hand as Geralt gently took the box and opened it. Jaskier barely heard the shrieks from his mother as Geralt winked at him.

“Jask, the last,” Geralt paused and scowled “six years of my life have been the happiest of my life.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, his heart thumping in his chest despite the fact he knew it wasn’t real.

“I’m thankful that I finally stopped being afraid of what I felt, feel, for you, and umm, well asked you out,” Geralt licked his lips, he actually seemed nervous, which was utterly ridiculous. He was a better actor than Jaskier had anticipated. “Can’t imagine how different today would have been if I hadn’t made the choice that day, the choice to be brave instead of a coward.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but reach forward to cup Geralt’s cheek, his hand moving on its own accord. “You’re the bravest man I know.”

Geralt laughed bitterly. “Not always, but ah fuck, you distracted me.”

“Sorry?” Jaskier giggled. “Would it help if I said yes?”

“Yes,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier knelt down opposite Geralt. “Yes.”

And then they were kissing, because that was what you did when you got engaged, wasn’t it? Only they weren’t really engaged, they weren’t even dating. Tears streamed down Jaskier’s cheeks as he kissed his friend with all the feelings that he could never admit, holding Geralt’s face in his hands. They were both panting by the time they pulled apart. “I love you, dear heart.”

Geralt, to Jaskier’s surprise, was also crying. He smiled sadly back at Jaskier as he brushed the tears from Jaskier’s cheek. “I love you too, Jask.” And then he slipped the ring onto Jaskier’s finger.

Jaskier swallowed and bit back a sob. “Fuck.”

Geralt tilted his head and glanced towards the ceiling. Jaskier nodded, hugging his arms around his chest. “I think we need a moment alone,” Geralt muttered and scooped Jaskier up into his arms.

Jaskier mother, also crying because apparently Christmas Eve dinner was a disaster, nodded. “Take all the time you need, darlings."

Geralt nodded and Jaskier hummed pressing his face into Geralt’s neck, desperately trying not to lose his grip on reality. They weren’t engaged. The mantra ran through his head obsessively. One more day, they would exchange presents, maybe a standard kiss under the mistletoe and then by next year’s Christmas Geralt would have broken up with him, and Jaskier’s parents would be none the wiser that it had all been a ruse.

A ruse, an pretence, an act.

Only it wasn’t an act, not for him.

“Fucking shit balls,” He mumbled into Geralt’s shirt as his bedroom door was kicked open. Jaskier practically leapt from Geralt’s arms and into the mess of bedsheets, hiding from the love of his life and pseudo fiancé.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry. I took it too far.” Geralt mumbled, sitting down on the bed next to where Jaskier was curled into a ball.

“No,” Jaskier mumbled. “I just overreacted, I… ah fuck it. I wanted it to be real. I’m sorry!”

“You,” Geralt stammered. “You wanted it to be real?”

Jaskier laughed haughtily and threw off the covers, wiping his eyes and glaring at Geralt. “Of course I fucking did. I told my parents we were dating… for six fucking years!”

“And you never once mentioned any of this to me?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Because I couldn’t lose you!”

“I didn’t want to lose you either.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide as he gaped at Geralt. “Hang on what? What does that mean? Geralt? Please do not tell me that means what I think it means!”

“I love you,” Geralt whispered “always have.”

“No, no no no!” Jaskier whined as his head hit the headboard. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

Jaskier laughed, the disbelief and sheer happiness in his heart overwhelming him. “Oh my fucking god, Geralt!” Geralt growled and stood up but Jaskier caught his hand. “Don’t you see?”

“No, care to let me into the joke?”

“We could have been dating for years!” Jaskier cried and then slapped a hand over his mouth, not wanting his parents to hear their argument. “This,” he waved his left hand at Geralt. “could have been real?”

Geralt frowned, his gaze flickering between Jaskier’s hand and his eyes. He sighed and a faint smiled graced his lips. “Maybe we should try dating first? Proposing on the first date is a bit much.”

Jaskier laughed and pulled Geralt into another kiss, his tears ones of happiness this time. He stroked Geralt’s cheek as they pulled apart. “What about the second date?”

“Jask,” Geralt groaned.

“Ok, the third date,” He laughed and Geralt shut him up with another quick kiss.”

“Your turn to propose,” Geralt mumbled against his lips as Jaskier slipped his hand up Geralt’s shirt.

“I don’t think I can beat proposing with the ring, dearest,” He giggled as Geralt pushed him back against the mattress, his nose running along Jaskier’s jaw.

“You’ll think of something.”

Jaskier grinned as Geralt’s lips crashed against his. He would think of something, something spectacular, but for now he was too busy kissing his boyfriend, grand marriage proposals would have to wait until next Christmas. They could make it a tradition. ________________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi @llamasdumpsterfire @skai6

#the witcher #modern au #geraskier #fake dating #christmas prompts #winter prompt #wolfie's witcher writing #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #suddenly-a-twilight-blog

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happyandticklish · 3 years ago

Text

Wake Up Call

Notes: For the anon request. I know the time in which I’m accomplishing some of these fics is taking longer, which is mostly due to needing to do life stuff along with this, but I still have a lot of fun writing them! Hope you enjoy~

Summary: Sometimes Nico has a hard time getting up in the morning, but Will has just the thing to help.

Warm sunlight filtered through his vision, making the boy squint his eyes in vague irritation. The lull of sleep tugged at him, and Nico groaned, turning around to hide his face in his boyfriend’s chest. He wondered what time it was. Whatever the answer, certainly too early to be awake. He wrapped his arms around the other, tugging him closer as he allowed unconsciousness to drag him under once more.

“Hey there,” a voice whispered into his hair, followed by a gentle kiss. “How’d you sleep?”

“Still trying to,” Nico grumbled in response, the effort of forming the words already too much for his jumbled mind. Waking up next to Will was becoming a more and more common occurrence—but really, could you blame Nico when the former happened to be the most comfortable pillow in the whole camp? “What time is it?”

Nico felt Will shift against him as he checked the clock on the wall. Vaguely, Nico assessed that the two were curled up in one of the many cots in the infirmary. He wasn’t sure entirely how they had got there, but he was certain it was a location they were not supposed to be in.

“Eh… seven,” Will replied, squinting a bit at the numbers.

“Seven?!” Nico exclaimed, his words ringing with disgust. “And you woke me up why exactly?”

“Oh, so you wanna be the one to explain to Chiron why the two of us were in here?” Will asked, arching an eyebrow at the other.

“You’re a doctor,” Nico pointed out, his words mumbled as he attempted to put himself back in the peaceful state he had been in before. “It’s an infirmary. What’s the problem?”

“The ‘problem’ is that I’m not supposed to be here overnight, and definitely not with a child of Hades in tow.”

“Mmm.”

Will sighed resignedly as he took in the other, the latter of which was clearly holding no intentions of moving. Seven was too late already. Technically, the others should be showing up around now, but his cabin had a habit of arriving late to opening time. He glanced anxiously towards the door, and then back down at his dozing boyfriend. However, as he did so he took in the way his shirt had rucked up in the fitful shifting of the night, revealing a pale sliver of his stomach. With his arms wrapped around Will’s neck and his eyes shut, he was entirely vulnerable to the idea formulating in Will’s mind.

“Nico~” he sing-songed, his hand drifting slowly down to his sides from where it had rested on the other’s back. “I really think you should get up now.”

Nico grunted, hardly taking in his words in his hazy state of mind.

Will grinned, almost pleased that the other had left him with such an open oppurtunity. “Alright then. But just remember, what happens next is on you.”

Nico twitched when fingers drew lightly up his side, pushing his shirt further up. A small smile slid onto his features as the tracing turned into light scratching. “No,” he muttered under his breath, though he declined to block the touch, choosing instead to merely hold onto the blond tighter. “Will…”

“Hmm?”

“C’mon—” Nico was squirming now, the light sensations making his already fuzzy brain turn to mush. “I-It—don’t!”

“You’re not making any sense, I’m afraid,” Will tsked, walking his fingers down to his stomach and scribbling lightly over the skin. “You’re gonna have to use complete sentences if you want me to understand what you’re saying.”

Nico squeezed his eyes shut, choked giggles escaping him despite himself. He attempted to draw his legs up, but with the way he was pressed against Will, curling up was impossible. That left his stomach entirely vulnerable to attack; it wasn’t his worst spot, but it was inexplicably unbearable in its own way.

“Wihihill!”

“Nico.”

Whatever Nico’s next sentence might have been, it broke off into frustrated garbling as the scribbling turned into playful poking.

“C’mon Nico,” Will teased, increasing the frenzy of the pokes so that Nico squeaked, his arm almost coming down to block him before grabbing around Will’s neck once more. “You know how to end this. You don’t want to get caught like this, do you?”

The idea of anyone seeing him in such a state was one that normally Nico would revolt at instantly. In the moment, however, he found that he was too tired to think about future consequences when the appeal of staying in the warm, comfortable bed, laughing into Will’s embrace, was as strong as it was. It had been a while since Will had pulled anything like this with the other, and Nico wasn’t rushing to end it so soon.

Will seemed to pick up on Nico’s reluctance, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I see. Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Ghost King? Hmm? Do you like being tickled, is that what it is?”

Warmth spread across Nico’s features, his stomach erupting into nerves at the revelation. It didn’t help that Will had slowed down the tickling in order for him to answer. “I—uh, no, of course not.” He fiddled with the back of Will’s shirt as he answered, still hiding his face in the hopes that it come somehow make the conversation easier to accomplish.

“Really?” Will’s words were laced with doubt. One hand rubbed up and down his side, a switch from the tickling from seconds before, in what was most likely meant to be a comforting gesture. Nico couldn’t help but twitch and tense every time his hand strayed too far from his path, however. “Because I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t try to stop me once while I was tickling you.”

Nico froze, his heart racing as he was caught in his lie. He opened his mouth, struggling to find some way to get himself out of the situation he had led himself into. Before he could, however, Will interjected hurriedly.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Will reassured him. “You don’t have to be ashamed of it or anything. Lots of people like to be tickled—it’s a normal way of showing and receiving affection. Not to mention,” he added slowly, gently tweaking his side so that the other let out a startled yelp. “You’re awfully cute all giggly and squirmy like this.”

Nico’s blush worsened, but relief coursed through him with a cool assurance. After a moment of hesitating silence, he muttered, “I don’t… not like it. What, uh, what you were doing, I mean.”

Will blinked, having not expected such an honest answer. Gratitude zipped through him, spreading a pleasant warmth throughout his body. He knew the other probably wouldn’t have been as open with him if it wasn’t still the early hours of the morning, and for a moment, he worried that Nico was going to be angry with him for prompting the confession. But as he watched the curled in position of the other, his gaze focused intently anywhere but Will, he realized that Nico was more nervous than anything else, as though he were worried that Will was going to be the angry one.

“Hey.” Nico frowned as Will sat up, grasping his hand firmly. “Thanks. For telling me that is. It means a lot to me that you were willing to share this with me.”

“Oh,” Nico replied slowly, unfurling from his position with a confused stare. “Yeah, uh, no problem. I guess. You’re not… I mean, you don’t think it’s weird?”

“Nico, you summon people from the dead. Your chauffeur is a zombie. We live in a world of myth and monsters, and you still think that playing with the Pokémon versions of that is cooler. Liking tickling is the least weird thing about you.”

“Thanks,” Nico replied dryly.

Will pulled him closer, kissing the tips of his fingers lightly. Nico wrinkled his nose at the affectionate gesture, but there was a faint pink dusted across his features all the same. “This is just one more thing about you to love. And you know what the best part about all of this is?”

“What?” Nico asked hesitantly, trying not to focus on Will’s face, let alone his lips, inches away from his own.

“I get to do this whenever I want to!”

Hands were shoved suddenly under Nico’s shirt, climbing his sides and sneaking under his arms. Nico squawked, caught off guard by the sudden attack, and flailed back in an unsuccessful attempt to retreat. “Wihihill! Wahahahait!”

“No, I don’t think I will. I’m having too much fun, you see. Besides, I thought you said you liked it. Do you really want me to stop?”

Nico blushed, giggling uncontrollably as he attempted to tug Will’s arms away from his armpits. “Thahahat’s nahahahat fahahair!” he squeaked, falling backwards on the bed at last in an act of desperation. His hands were holding Will’s wrists loosely, tugging every once in a while unsuccessfully. His head was thrown back in a wild grin as carefree laughter spilled from his lips. Will’s heart swooped unsteadily in his chest, the sight of Nico like this first thing in the morning too much for him to handle. Consequently, he almost didn’t notice the voice ringing through the infirmary seconds later, echoing in the hall.

“Will? Are you in there? I thought I heard a noise.”

Will nearly gave himself whiplash from how fast he jerked back from the other, pulling Nico onto his chest on accident as the other’s hands were still locked about his arms. Nico’s face had dropped into that of cautious alarm, but there was still light dancing in his eyes, casting a content glow to his face.

Will cursed, letting out a disappointed groan. “Kayla. Dammit. We should probably get out of here so I don’t get you in trouble.”

“Me in trouble?” Nico exclaimed indignantly as Will pulled him off the bed, each of them struggling to kick the covers off of themselves. “Wasn’t it your idea to come here in the first—”

“Details, details,” Will interrupted quickly. “Now, do you want to get caught or not?”

Nico sighed, but followed him in a run as the two attempted to sneak out through the back doors.

In the end, Kayla ended up catching them and the two got put on Pegasus detail for the next two weeks. But Will decided it was all worth it, in the end, if it meant he got to hear the other’s laughter once more.

#tickle fic #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #pjo #hoo #trials of apollo #fanfiction #fic request #requests #tickling #percy jackson

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ghostbustermelanieking · 3 years ago

Note

i'd like to hear some headcanons for your "georgie can see dead people" au! :0

oh thank you so much!! this is probably going to be a little messy, since i haven't actually started the fic, but!! here is something!! :) (also i am so sorry for all the sixth sense references. the actual fic will undoubtedly be worse.)

1. So the basic premise of this AU is that the end result of Georgie's encounter with the End is that, instead of losing her ability to feel fear, she gains the ability to see the dead. Everything goes the same otherwise: the protest, Alex, the dead woman, Georgie waking up days later at home, the months of strangeness and unfeeling. The difference is that when Georgie wakes up, she can see the dead woman, too. Never too close—only in corners, behind doors, in the window. And never always, but only in the moments that feel crucial. The moments where she's searching for something of herself. Her mother hugs her and she sees the dead woman over her mother's shoulder.

Georgie sees Alex, too, sometimes. Closer and more head on; she is always looking back. But she never speaks, and neither does the dead woman from the room. It isn't until she begins to see other ghosts that she realizes they can talk, if they want to. If they choose.

(Six months later is when Georgie figures out how to lock the dead woman out. She stops seeing Alex shortly after, except on occasion. Sometimes she'll see a flash of those familiar eyes in the mirror, over her shoulder, and they always seem to be apologetic. But Alex still never says anything. Georgie gets good at pretending that this doesn't hurt nearly as much as losing her.)

2. Jon is the first one that Georgie almost tells. Almost. They're honest with each other in a way that Georgie usually isn't, when they first meet, and she almost thinks he'd believe her. They talk about ghost stories all the time.

She mostly thinks about it when she sees Jon's ghosts. It isn't often but she sees them. He'll talk about what little he remembers of his parents, or pull out some old, faded pictures, and she'll see the faces reflected in the kitchen, the bathroom mirror, Jon's bedroom. He never talks about the apparition of a strange teenager that appears, once, when they both wake up sweaty from frantic nightmares and he refuses to explain, and Georgie doesn't press. He doesn't tell her about Mr. Spider and she doesn't tell him about the ghosts. Much as they love each other, they do still have secrets.

Georgie goes to his grandmother's funeral years later, even though they're barely talking at this point, and almost tells him then. Seeing him stand mostly alone at the grave, looking monumentally alone, and then a flicker of his grandmother behind him—she almost does. But still she doesn't. She's never told anyone before, and she and Jon aren't really in touch, so she just hugs him and tells him she's so sorry, and doesn't meet the eyes of the woman watching behind the fresh grave.

3. Melanie is another person Georgie almost tells. They still meet through their connections—Ghost Hunt UK, What the Ghost, and Georgie's power is (probably unsurprisingly) very useful for the paranormal podcast business. (All her episodes aren't pulled from real life, from her own experiences—that would be irresponsible, and there's more clout in retelling familiar stories. But sometimes when Georgie runs out of episode ideas, she'll visit a spooky place, write down what she sees, do a deep dive on the history, and fill in the gaps by attributing her sightings to "unnamed" witnesses.) She's met a lot of people in the ghost hunting business, but Melanie stands out, because they hit it off so immediately. Start hanging out outside of work drinks, at parties or pubs or research stints. Melanie starts inviting Georgie to consult on the show, or to collaborate, and Georgie uses what she sees to point Melanie and her team towards real sightings. Why not? Might as well have the horrible power be useful for something. Haley Joel Osment solved his problem by helping people, and this isn't the same at all (and that's a movie, anyways), but it is something.

So she and Melanie become fast friends, faster than Georgie is used to, and Georgie genuinely thinks about telling her. She trusts her, and she doesn't think Melanie would laugh, or call her a liar. (Melanie's got stories about not being believed, too; it's common in the paranormal business.) She thinks Melanie might be the right person, maybe. Just maybe.

(She doesn't end up doing it. She's still a coward when it comes to that. But it isn't because she isn't tempted.)

(The idea to tell Melanie comes before she starts seeing Melanie's father. But that fact doesn't help her decision, either. In quiet moments with Melanie, Georgie starts seeing the man in Melanie's framed photos in the shadows, looking at Melanie with sad eyes, calling her little moth. But Melanie can still barely talk about her dad, and the accident, and it feels even more wrong after he starts showing up, to tell her. Georgie worries Melanie might think she's making fun, or making something up to make her feel better, and she doesn't see this going well.

Instead she says, sometimes, I know your dad loved you a lot. Melanie says, Yeah, I know, too. Georgie says, And I bet he misses you, even though it isn't a bet; she knows. But she can't tell Melanie, and that's as far as it can go.)

4. The most significant time Georgie wants to tell Melanie, but doesn't, is the one she'll end up regretting the most in the end. When Melanie gets out of the hospital, first, and then when she comes back from India; when Georgie is basically the only friend Melanie has left from her old life, and therefore is probably the person Melanie goes to the most. The person Melanie confides in.

So Georgie is there to see it all. She'll be sitting across from Melanie in a pub, or beside her on the couch; she'll brush Melanie's hand with hers, or their knees will knock together, and Georgie will see flashes of blood, violence. Hear screaming. She'll see haunted faces out of the corner of her eyes: soldiers, doctors. Muzzles of guns. Once, a stained hand gripping Melanie around the leg.

She'll regret it, later, but Georgie doesn't say anything; she doesn't know what to say. She's never seen anything like this, even with over a decade of seeing ghosts. How is she supposed to explain it? She doesn't really know what it means. Melanie talks about war ghosts, and Georgie listens, and she rationalizes that Melanie will have to be okay. (She was okay, when it was her, and if—if this is something serious, something worse, than… then Georgie will be there. Melanie will have someone who understands.)

5. One night in February of 2018, Jon shows up back in Georgie's life, looking shell-shocked on her doorstep. He stands in the hall looking mildly terrified, when Georgie opens the door, and behind him stands a dead woman, looking desperate and furious all at once.

"Georgie," Jon says weakly. "I-I know it's been a while, but…"

"Jon! Christ, what happened to you? Are you all right?" Georgie says, trying to take in Jon and the dead woman all at once. (She is new—Jon must have had someone else close to him die.) She focuses on Jon, puts a hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"I… I'm fine." Jon's hands twist in front of him. "I… didn't know where else to go."

Georgie swallows hard and says, "Are you in trouble?" The dead woman is looking right at her. Georgie keeps looking at Jon.

"I… yes." Jon chews on his lower lip. "If… I know it's a lot to ask, b-but I… could I… possibly stay here for a little while?"

Georgie swallows hard. She has a dozen questions—what's happened, why he needs somewhere to stay, why he looks like this—he looks like he's been through emotional turmoil, through hell—and worse, why a dead woman has followed him here. But she doesn't know how to ask these questions. And she can't just turn him away. Jon helped her heal during one of the worst periods of her life, even if he doesn't know it. And she can do the same.

"Yeah," Georgie says, and leans forward to pull Jon into a hug—tentative at first, and then stronger, when Jon latches on like he needs it. "Y-yeah, Jon, of course."

Jon rambles out a frantic thank you, layered in with apologies and copious promises to pay rent, but it becomes harder to listen. Right over Jon's shoulder, the dead woman is staring right at her, her mouth hanging open. She's got long hair and glasses, and she looks exhausted, and it isn't immediately obvious how she has died, which is unusual. And she's looking right at Georgie. She says, suddenly, "Can you—can you see me?"

It isn't the first time a ghost has spoken to her, but it's a rare enough occasion to be shocking. Her throat is thick with surprise, and she can't say anything in front of Jon, so she just sort of imperceptibly nods. Holds the dead woman's gaze for a moment.

"Fuck," says the dead woman. "Thank—thank god, thank Christ, I…" She pauses and looks at Jon, then back at Georgie, still numbly hugging Jon there in the hall. "My name is Sasha," she says, and Georgie thinks of the scene in The Sixth Sense where the sick little girl under the blanket asks for help. "Can you… can you help me?"

(send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons)

#*pushes my Sasha and Georgie becomes friends agenda* yeah.... (so this is like the concrete plot points from this au lol. i havent decided #on an ending)#wtgfs #tma fic #sorta #tma au #jon & georgie #i wrote this #georgie barker sees dead people

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Three Can Spill A Secret F.W & G.W

Part 1, Part 2, Masterlist, Request Rules

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader x George Weasley

Part 3 of 3

A/N: Smut Based Bonus Chapters can be read here

Warnings: polyamory (if you’re not into that), fluff, swearing, and angst.

You cleared your throat and stared at Hermione, pursing your lips you decided to spill the truth already - everyone would find out sooner or later and it’s better to address what's actually happening instead of allowing rumours to brew up.

“I’m not being silly” you addressed Hermione, “and I’m not using your brothers.” you addressed Ron. “The three of us... we’ve been together for almost a year now and no, it’s not incestual.. we’re uh.. a triad.” you finally spat out.

Hermione looked more frustrated than ever, being wrong was rare for her.

Ron’s jaw dropped, Ginny’s too and Harry looked as if he would burst into laughter. You had an idea or two of the inaccurate, and most likely inappropriate thoughts swimming around their heads.

“To make a long and awkward explanation short, Y/N is dating both of us.” Fred joined in, holding your hand.

George laced his hand in your free one “and we’re both dating her, obviously Freddie and I aren’t an item so you can get that out of your head.”

Silence filled the common room for a moment, the only noise being the crackling of the fire.

“Swinging was a sixties thing though-” Ron muttered, the glare from Fred instantly making him quiet down.

“but isn’t that just a polite way of saying you’re a cheat?” Hermione questioned you, “no offence.”

You shook your head “We communicate openly with one another, we have boundaries in place. Fred and George are my only partners, we don’t seek out anyone else.” you answered.

Hermione nodded, beginning to understand.

“Well you must love one more than the other.” Ron muttered again, focusing on you and not his brothers.

You laughed a little and shook your head “your mum doesn’t love Bill any more than she loves you” you replied “love isn’t cut into fractions, I love them both the same.”

“Although I am better looking.” Fred smirked at George.

“Oh shut up” he rolled his eyes and laughed.

Getting up and ready for bed after a round of myth busting, Hermione and Ginny nudged you, both of them had guilty expressions on their faces.

“We’re really sorry.” Hermione said softly “I really need to know and learn better.”

“Sorry for what happened at dinner, it’s just-”

“I get it” you replied, folding up your clothes “you just wanted to protect them, it’s fine.” You climbed into your bed and pulled the covers over you.

Hermione and Ginny got the message and said no more, going to bed.

You were incredibly grateful for the apologies and you were happy you were able to explain everything, but you still couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed that your friends had gone behind your back to spy on you and accuse you of such a thing as cheating.

The new week wasn’t any better either, someone from outside of your little circle heard about your relationship with the twins and decided to share the news with the whole of Hogwarts; walking down the halls and entering the Great Hall was almost unbearable.

Everyone stopped and stared at you, whispering amongst their friends, making assumptions and discussing the rumours of the three of you that had been spreading around like wildfire.

You were branded as a ‘slag’, being ‘greedy’ and ‘a freak who couldn’t make up her mind’. The insults didn’t bother you at first as you hoped they would learn like your friends, but they didn’t want to and they wouldn’t, someone in your DADA class even brought up Arthur Weasley and how this would affect his reputation at the Ministry when he gets notified.

Storming across the Quidditch pitch you met your two out of breath and sweaty boyfriends, covered in mud and grass stains.

“Good game?” you asked, smiling at both of them, trying to hide your panic.

Hiding your feelings never worked with Fred and George, the two of them could read you like a book.

“What's the matter, love?” George asked, stroking your cheek with his muddy thumb.

“Are you okay?” Fred asked, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

You shook your head and your bottom lip quivered, tears pooling your eyes. “They’re going to tell the Ministry about us, your dad is going to find out through them with false information and his reputation will be ruined.”

You spoke through tears so fast it took a moment for your boyfriends to catch up, they shared a glance and sighed.

“looks like we’ll be going home this weekend then.” Fred said softly yet defeated, kissing your head.

“It’s going to be okay, Y/N, we’ll get through this.” George reassured you.

Sitting on the mostly empty and quiet Hogwarts Express, George and Fred were playing a game of exploding snap whilst you were pretending to be asleep, trying to calm yourself down from the nerves of how Molly and Arthur would react.

“You should’ve seen her face Georgie” Fred spoke out excitedly. “Her eyes lit up like the floating candles in the great hall, she loved it in Honey Dukes!”

George laughed and you could tell he was smiling through his voice “Bless her heart, she still had stars in her eyes when she arrived on our date.”

“I wonder if she’ll be happy enough with our little idea, if everything goes to plan.” Fred said quietly.

You furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes still closed.

“I’m sure she will be, Freddie.”

The two continued to play their game, every now and then you’d hear a cheer from one twin and a complaint from the other.

Arriving at the burrow you could feel the nausea pool into your stomach, what's the worst that could happen? Your ‘what if’ marathon spiralling out of control.

‘Molly and Arthur will become enraged, I’ll be forced to end my relationship with Fred and George, they’ll want me out of the house and to never come back.’

“Fred! George! Y/N!” Molly’s surprised tone of voice dragged you out of the whirlwind. “What are you doing here! You’re not due to come home yet!”

Fred walked into the house, you and George followed, you found it hard knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold their hands - they’d start to question things if you were to constantly switch between the two of them.

Unlike plenty of times before, today they couldn’t pretend to be one another because of the initialled sweaters they were wearing.

“Chill out mum” Fred replied, strolling into the kitchen looking for food.

George smirked “We just wanted to visit you, needed a change of scenery after going to Hogsmeade every weekend.”

Molly stayed quiet for a moment and then looked to you and smiled, welcoming you into a warm hug, one of your favourite hugs in the world.

“Well I’m happy to see you again my dear, I hope those two have been behaving themselves!” She glanced at Fred and noticed his mouth full of food.

You giggled and nodded “they’ve been working really hard!” You defended them.

“Oh good, Arthur will be so pleased when he hears this over dinner!” She smiled “Y/N, would you care to help me?”

You felt your cheeks redden, you hadn’t been able to fully talk your plan through with your boyfriends - you wished you hadn’t pretended to be asleep for all those hours on the train.

“I’ll be more than happy to!” You beamed trying to seem enthusiastic, quickly eyeing up Fred and George, your expression fell slightly.

“Fred, George, you better not cause any trouble tonight. Your poor dad and Percy have had to work overtime for the past few weeks!”

Whilst helping Molly with food and cleaning, she tried to bring up Fred and George to you. Asking if you fancied either of them and if so who it was, you panicked and caught yourself choosing George over Fred which you felt awful for.

“Ah brilliant!” Molly chirped, brushing away the sweat from her brow. “Fred, George, get in here and set the table! No wands!”

Arthur walked through the door and he, like Molly earlier, was surprised to see you and his sons now thundering down the stairs.

“They wanted to see us, Arthur!” Molly smiled, embracing her husband and kissing him on the cheek.

“Really? How lovely.” Arthur smiled, hugging you and waving at his sons.

Percy also came through the door and greeted the three of you before going upstairs, wavering on about the paperwork he needed to do and that he’ll regrettably miss out on tonight's dinner.

Nevertheless, you were sat in between both Fred and George, sitting across from Molly and Arthur.

Every now and then through conversation Fred and George took it in turns placing their hand on your knee to provide you with some comfort, the three of you deciding that tonight would be the night you would spill your secret entirely.

“You alright Fred, George? You’re both a bit quiet this evening.” Arthur spoke up, his plate empty.

Molly nodded her head in agreement “You’ve been a bit quite today too, Y/N.” Her tone slightly suspicious.

George squeezed your thigh and looked at his brother, “they’re already sitting down so..”

Your heart began to race, your chest tightened and you started to sweat.

“Mum, dad, we’ve got some news.” Fred paused for a moment, his parents dreading what trouble they had caused this time.

“Freddie and I are both in a relationship with Y/N, we have been for nearly a year now.” George revealed.

Molly and Arthur looked gobsmacked, you started to sink in your seat.

“She’s our girlfriend, we’re her boyfriends.” Fred breathed.

“It’s a triad relationship, she dates us, we date her but not each other.”

“Obviously, like Georgie said.”

Molly’s eyes met yours, she appeared to be baffled beyond belief.

“You��re stringing along both of my sons?!” She freaked, Arthur having to keep her in her seat.

“It isn’t like that, Mrs Weasley.” You replied anxiously “I’m in love with both of them, I wouldn’t ever hurt them-”

“Mum, just calm it will you? She makes us incredibly happy-” Fred tried to defend you, but Molly wasn’t wanting to listen anymore.

“I must to sleep on this!” Molly spoke over you all, standing up and walking away from the table.

Arthur still sat down, looked at the three of you and smiled sympathetically, he thanked you for telling him before the Ministry got word and tried to assure you that Molly would be more understanding in the morning. He got to his feet and followed her to bed.

“I’m so sorry” you cried “this is all my fault”

Fred hushed you and wiped away your falling tears “don’t cry, darling.”

“It isn’t your fault.” George kissed your head “she’ll understand, she’s just in shock.”

Fred and George pushed their single beds together with a bit of trusty magic, making the bed a double. You were wide awake, being the middle spoon, George’s soft breath tickled your neck.

The next morning you, Fred and George were sat at the table with Molly and Arthur once more.

Molly, like you, also look exhausted beyond belief.

“There must be some mistake, Y/N. To date both of my boys at once - have you not considered this as your way of coping with a fear of commitment?” She barked, causing you to jump.

Fred and George both groaned out loud, sick of the stereotypes people had regarding Polyamory, they had no idea how you could be so patient.

“I think you’ll find that my relationship with your sons is quite the opposite of fearing commitment.” you replied, holding their hands “I have the ability to commit to them both, on a variety of levels.”

“We love her, mum” George butted in

“Can’t you just be happy for us?” Fred added “We’re happier than we’ve ever been.”

Molly sighed, starting to feel defeated.

“So if this does work out, the two of you marry her, how are you supposed to raise my grandchildren in such an environment?” Molly asked once more.

You, Fred and George grinned from ear to ear, the thought of your children running around and causing chaos.

“Plenty of studies have shown that kids who are raised in ‘such an environment’“ Fred air quoted.

“Turn out fine” George smiled, completing Fred’s sentence.

Molly turned to face Arthur, and he smiled at you.

“I think this is brilliant, it’s nice to have someone who loves my sons on such a level.” Arthur stood up and walked over to you, you pushed your seat back and gave into his hug.

You felt your nerves finally start to fall apart and disintegrate at the bottom of your stomach, Molly shook her head and smiled at you, finally giving in.

Molly stood up and walked over to you, pulling you into a hug “I’m sorry my dear, I’ve just never known of such a relationship-”

“Told you she’s not that bad.” Fred smirked, getting out of his seat.

George stood up too “Get used to her, mum.”

Sitting outside in the garden, in the exact same spot those many nights ago when this beautiful relationship started, Fred and George looked at one another and smiled. They pulled out the job application you had written and read it out loud in turns playfully, Molly and Arthur watched the three of you through the window.

“what do you recon Fred, think we should hire her?” George smirked.

Fred grinned and nodded his head “would be a shame not to, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes are in need of a beautiful, enthusiastic and hardworking saleswoman!”

You blushed and giggled, scrunching your eyebrows at them.

“Consider yourself hired, my love.” George kissed your head, the twins springing to their feet, George offering you a hand up.

“Weasley’s Wizard what?”

“It’s mine and Georgie’s joke shop, Y/N.” Fred smiled, holding your hand.

George holding your other hand stared into your star filled eyes. “We can all finally have plans for the future, together.”

“The three of us?” you beamed, tears of happiness flooding your eyes.

Fred and George nodded and smiled at you lovingly.

“The three of us.” they said in unison.

Tags: @alwaysnforeverfangirl , @lana-isabelle

#fanfic #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp #imagines #weasley #george wealsey imagine #george wealsey x reader #george weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fluff #smut #polyamory #angst

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

Text

Sex Tape

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader

Request: “ If you take requests, would you consider doing johnny reaction to like theirs sex tape getting leaked? Reader may also be a celebrity or not. Whatever you prefer “ - @fanficshitandother

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no actual smut

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Sorry this one is so short. I was having a harder time writing it than I thought I would. I hope you enjoy!

__________________________________

Shit.

You knew this was a bad idea when he suggested it but no. He just had to have this video “for when he was away filming.” It always ended like this, though, right? It always started out as fun and games until bam! Celebrity sex tape leaked!

The gossip talk show video that your best friend had sent you was still playing on your phone and you watched in silent horror as the red haired woman talked about your sex life to her male counterpart as if she had any actual right to have an opinion. In the top corner was a picture of you and Johnny at the red carpet for the premier of the Crimes of Grindelwald, his arm around your waist and both of you smiling for the paparazzi pictures. “Okay, guys. You are going to want to hear this,” She started, clasping her absurdly long acrylic-clad fingers together and holding onto her knees, “So there has been yet another sex tape leaked and I want you to guess who’s it is.” She looked over to her co-host. He had a push broom mustache that was bleached blonde to match his hair.

The man hummed before waving his hand, which also donned long yellow acrylics, “I swear, Laurel, if this is another Kardashian or Paris Hilton tape, I’m gonna scream. That’s such old news.”

“Actually, it’s someone that I certainly didn’t expect. Johnny Depp and his wife, Y/N L/N.” She dropped the news and the co-star’s mouth dropped.

“Are you serious? Like Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp?” He asked in total shock, “I didn’t expect that either! But you know what? I feel like he’d be really good in bed.”

He and Laurel both laughed, “You’re so bad!” She squealed, hitting him with the paper notes in her hand, “But, between you and me,” She leaned in, as if she was telling an actual secret that wasn’t being broadcast on the internet, “I did see it.”

“And?”

“It was pretty hot, I can’t lie. That Y/N is a very lucky girl indeed.” The pair giggled like a pair of school girls.

You were absolutely mortified. How did this happen? How many people had seen it? Who had seen it? Oh God… all you could imagine was your family stumbling across the video or, debatably worse, Johnny’s kids. This had to be one of the worst moments of your life.

You turned off the video and quickly dialed your husband. “Hello, love.” He greeted cheerily on the other end. The faint sound of cars passing in the background told you he was probably driving home from the meeting he had been at.

“Did you see it? Did you hear it?” You asked frantically.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“The video! The video got leaked!” You ran your fingers through your hair messily, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

“What video?” He questioned, not sounding like he fully understood what had happened, but then you could almost feel the weight of realization falling on him, “Wait, our video?”

“Yes! Our video!” You were yelling at this point, not at him but at the situation and thankfully he understood that.

“Okay, okay. We’ll- Hang on my manager is calling. Probably to tell me about it. I’ll be home in five minutes. I love you.” He signed off your call quickly before hanging up without giving you the chance to respond.

While you waited for him to get there, you spiraled down the rabbit hole that was the tabloids and social media. Your phone buzzed off the charts as everyone from your sister to Helena Bonham Carter called you to ask if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t. But it was one phone call from a former college roommate, Sheila, had really gotten your blood boiling.

“It’s okay! If anything, this is just going to make you more famous! Look at all the other celebs who’ve had their sex tapes leaked. They’re like, super famous.” Sheila sounded more excited than she should have, which certainly made you question her motives behind calling you in the first place. Since marrying Johnny, you’d had the unfortunate displeasure of having to cut a few people off from your past who had randomly called you up after years of little to no contact, asking more favors in the movie industry, money, or even just for the clout of saying they knew you. There really was such a downside to this whole marrying famous person thing that nobody ever really talked about - not that you would take it back, though, of course. You loved Johnny more than anything.

Still, when the words left her mouth, you felt a flash of anger swell up, “Contrary to what a lot of people might believe, being famous actually kind of sucks,” You spat angrily, “And call me crazy, but I don’t exactly feel thrilled at knowing the whole world as access to a video of my naked ass!”

“At least it’s a good naked ass, though! Your boobs are looking pretty good too. Did you get them done?” She asked bluntly, still not a care to be heard in her voice. You swore you could almost detect a fake valley girl accent too.

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief at the words coming from her voice, “I can’t believe you.” Without giving her a chance to respond, you clicked the off button before flipping her off through the screen, though you knew she couldn’t see it. The audacity of some people.

The front door swung open, drawing your attention as Johnny hurried into the house, setting his bag down by the front door. “How bad is it?” You asked, knowing his manager must have told him the full extent.

“Do you want the truth?” Johnny saw as panic and humiliation swept across your face, knowing that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to break it to you that it was pretty bad. He stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms, “I told Harrison to take ‘em down. Whenever he found one, he said he’d get it deleted.

You sighed defeatedly, “That doesn’t stop the fact that a bunch of people already saw it.” Your arms wrapped around Johnny’s torso and you allowed your head to fall against his chest, trying to calm yourself with his scent- exotic spicy cologne and old books.

His large hand came to stroke through your hair, “That is true,” He conceded with a heavy breath, “But, it also means that fewer and fewer people will continue to see it.” There was a pause in which neither of you said anything, only took a few minutes to hold onto each other while you thought about the future now, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel like this is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have asked to make the video. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You shook your head in disagreement, “I agreed to do it too. It’s on both of us. In retrospect, we should have put it on an actual VHS tape or something that would be more difficult to get into the tabloid’s hands.”

You were tired of this - of this constant running from the vultures that prayed off your every misstep just to turn them against you and create headlining stories. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a scandal unless the media allowed it. You were just grateful that you happened to marry one of the most private actors in Hollywood, knowing that whatever pressure you felt, more public figures like Angelina Jolie had it much worse. Still, something inside you stirred, a decision that you’d stop living in fear.

Johnny pulled back and gave you that infamous cocked eyebrow look of wonder, one that you’d mostly seen him use as Jack Sparrow. Little did everyone know, it was a gesture he’d picked up on doing in real life as well. “Do we even have a VHS player anymore?”

You chuckled and buried your head back into his white shirt, “I don’t even know. I feel like there must be one laying around somewhere. And if not, I’ll go down to a pawn shop and pick one up just for you to use while filming.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” You leaned back, pulling on his shirt to bring him down closer to your level, “That if we’re going to be making you another one of these videos, it’s gonna be on something that stays only between us.”

Your husband nearly choked on air, “Another one? After what just happened?”

“Only if you want to and only if it stays on something physical like a CD or VHS that we can mutually agree to burn and destroy if anything happens.” You giggled and Johnny joined in with a low chuckle as well, “But… the video was leaked. We knew that was a risk when we made it. But, y’know what? I’m tired of living in fear of the paparazzi and public. They’ve already seen us fuck. There’s not much else we’ve got to lose.”

His dark eyes flashed with mischief before he took off in a light jog down the hall without a word. You followed him, “Where are you going?” You giggled, turning the corner to find him digging through your little Harry Potter closet under the stairs.

When he stood up, he shook his long hair out of his eyes messily and held up an old tape recorder that had to be at least twenty years old. Johnny swayed towards you, jokingly flirtatious as he spoke, “Well, Mrs. Depp, it would seem that you’re in luck because your husband likes to hoard old shit.”

The grey and black machine seemed to stare at you and some hesitation set in again but then you remembered what you’d said: I’m tired of living in fear… there’s not much else we’ve got to lose.

Johnny flicked open the side compartment and his eyes opened in surprise to find a tape still in there. He lifted it from the slide and looked it over, shocked to see that it appeared to be an unused blank tape, “Well, well, looks like we’re in luck.”

Biting your lip, you looked up at him with those eyes before grabbing his hand and running upstairs to your bedroom, dragging him along. “The world thinks they’ve seen us fuck. They only got a preview.”

“Only a preview? I thought we went pretty hard last time?” He countered with a low challenging laugh.

You turned around at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister as you turned to face him. His body collided with yours, his hand reaching around the small of your back to steady the two of you and you arched your body into his, being sure to brush your body against his groin, “Oh, Johnny… we’re both throwing our backs out tonight.”

#Johnny Depp #johnny depp fanfic #John Shelby #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp imagines

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poetrusicperry · 3 years ago

Text

A Meddling Friend

charlie dalton one shot

word count: 2,380

warnings: none

notes: soooo i wrote a matchmaker!charlie one shot because i felt like it heh (also there is no way charlie isn’t the best matchmaker around tbh)... here it is (:

A Meddling Friend

When Charlie “Nuwanda” Dalton set out to do something, hardly anything could stand in his way. A meddler by plain terms, Charlie butted his way into any situation, whether he saw a benefit in it for himself or for others. Oftentimes, Charlie’s triumphs would stem from wanting to succeed. In what? The possibilities were endless. He had once convinced his entire chemistry class to fudge their hardest experiment of the year (“Look, the teacher can’t possibly fail all of us; a failure on all of us means gigantic failure on him,” he’d said pointedly), he’d tricked his younger sister into begging their parents for a dog, despite her allergies (when asked about why he didn’t just ask his parents for a dog, he claimed they were much more inclined to appease his sister), and he’d smooth-talked his way into a date to the Ridgeway Junior Prom at a diner in town on a dare (“Now I have a hot date and five bucks from all of you”). His successes were plentiful, and there was no end in sight.

So when Charlie had endured months of secret glances between his best friend, Neil, and Neil’s roommate, Todd (not to mention the awkward, weighted silences and painfully obvious unsaid words), Charlie decided to do what he did best: meddle.

The leaves were in their adolescence on the trees; varying shades of orange and red made campus seem ablaze. Charlie would find himself, on multiple occasions, staring out the window when he was supposed to be paying attention in class. Today was no different– the leaves were beckoning, and Charlie’s eyes sat fixed upon them until he heard his name being called from the front of the room,

“Mr. Dalton?” being at the back of the room, everyone turned in their desks to look at Charlie.

“Yes, sir?” he replied, unfazed. Dr. Hager had begun to go into detail about the question he had just asked Charlie, but Charlie’s gaze was, again, caught. This time, by Todd, who was the only person not looking at Charlie; Todd was looking at Neil. Charlie hadn’t heard a word his teacher had said, more focused on the fact that Todd was gawking at Neil and Neil didn’t even seem to notice. Rolling his eyes at Charlie, Richard Cameron (Charlie’s roommate), raised his hand to answer the question Dr. Hager asked.

“That’s a demerit, Mr. Dalton,” Dr. Hager deadpanned before calling on Cameron. After everyone had turned back around to face the front of the room, Charlie sat forward in his seat, watching Todd, who was still looking at Neil. Upon dropping his pencil, Neil bent to pick it up, locking eyes with Todd on his way back to sitting normally. A smirk played on Charlie’s face when Todd’s face flushed as he turned back toward the front. And Charlie couldn’t help but notice that Neil’s cheeks had also turned slightly cherry-colored as his eyes darted back to his notes. Charlie sat smugly back into his chair and began to hatch a scheme in his head. If he could just get them to admit their feelings for each other, the world would be a better place.

A few weeks prior to the day, Charlie had caught Neil drawing a heart around Todd’s name in the margins of a trig textbook. A few days before that, Todd had read an original poem out loud in their English class that was so clearly about Neil it was painful (“Richest coffee eyes / That paint the stage wonderful”).

Charlie didn’t dare bring up the subject with any of his other friends, but once alone with Neil after Chemistry, he began to work his magic.

“What’s bugging you?” he asked Neil, nudging him slightly as they walked down the hallway.

“What?” Neil returned, confused.

“You dropped your pencil during chem. I’ve never seen you do that. So that either means you were distracted by something, or you were falling asleep, which means you haven’t been sleeping well because you’re stressed out. Which is it?” Charlie prodded, looking at his friend as they continued down the hall, “Come onnnnn, Perry,” he goaded, elbowing Neil, who sighed in exasperation.

“It’s nothing, Charlie,” Neil groaned, adjusting his books in his arms and casting a nervous look at Charlie.

“Lie to anyone else, Neil. Anyone else but me. It’s just embarrassing at this point,” Charlie smirked, “And offensive.”

“It’s just… the play. It’s hard to memorize without help,” Neil sighed before turning to Charlie, “You could help? Do you want to help me, Charlie?” Neil said excitedly. Bingo, Charlie thought.

“I’d really love to, Neil, but I’ve got some Latin stuff with Meeks for the next few days,” Neil sighed, “I do, however, know someone who can help you,” Charlie finished, pleased with himself.

“Who is it?” Neil cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if you know him, but I’ll just tell him to meet you somewhere tomorrow? What time?”

“How do I know this guy isn’t crazy?”

“Again, I’m hurt. You don’t trust me to put you into good hands?” Or Todd’s hands, Charlie thought, laughing to himself.

“Of course I trust you, Charlie, it’s just… I don’t know, I’m stressed out, and my father is all over me, I just need some help. If you know someone who can help, I’m more than willing to accept. I don’t mean anything bad by my reactions, I promise.”

“I know you, don’t, Neil,” Charlie clapped Neil on the back, “At the dock, tomorrow at 4. He’ll be there,” he looked at Neil, “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise,” Charlie smiled as they made their way onto the landing of the boys’ floor.

After parting ways with his friend, Charlie bursted the door to his own room open, startling Cameron, who was sitting at his desk studying.

“Jesus, Dalton, you scared me half to death,” Cameron clutched his chest.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Charlie smirked, jumping into bed (with his shoes still on). He turned onto his back and put his hands behind his head, crossing his outstretched legs.

“Can you look at this trig, see if it makes sense?” Cameron asked, holding his textbook up to Charlie.

“At any other time, any other day, and in any other circumstance, I totally would, but I have some things to plan. Sorry, Cameron,” Charlie shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Come on, Charlie. I rarely ask you for help, and the one time I do, you won’t do it?” Cameron groaned. He opened one eye at the redhead across the room.

“Trust me when I tell you, the thing I’m planning is a lot more important than trig,” Charlie shot Cameron a knowing look, then closed his eye again, beginning to visualize and scheme as his roommate huffed a sigh and turned back around to his desk.

The following day brought giddiness for Charlie; he’d gotten Neil committed to going down to the docks, now he just needed to get Todd alone. The only thing Charlie was still figuring out was how. Todd was the biggest introvert Charlie knew.

Charlie’s proclivity for picking up on the ins and outs of his best friend had led to having more insight into Todd as well. Todd Anderson was new to Welton this past fall. And he was Neil’s roommate, so by association Todd had slowly, but surely (and slightly excruciatingly) joined Neil and Charlie’s friend group. He mostly listened and watched, but always sat near (although not too near) Neil when they were hanging out.

Since they were kids, Neil had always been personable; every new thing he learned about a person, would be spun in a positive way, even if the trait was inherently “bad.” He and Charlie would spend hours talking about people, but not in the “let’s gossip” kind of way– they both found a lot of intrigue in the general population. Even as children they were constantly surveying their peers in a way normal children wouldn’t. When Neil had met Todd, it was no different; he would go on about his sandy-haired roommate for ten minutes straight without taking a breath. Why Todd had transferred schools, where his family is from, what kinds of activities he liked. Charlie found the answers to these questions interesting, but perhaps nothing was more intriguing to him than the fact that Todd had willingly shared all this information with Neil. From what Charlie had experienced, Todd was not a talker, and would rather sit in a painful silence for hours on end than open up to the friend group or start a conversation… but he was doing so with Neil. Granted, Neil asked a lot of questions, but Todd seemed comfortable enough around him to share. That was the first thing Charlie noticed between the two of them, and the catalyst that had sparked Charlie’s master plan of getting them together.

After breakfast, which entailed a small conversation about Playboy models, gross scrambled eggs, and of course, a silent Todd, Charlie hung back to catch the boy before he slipped away to the dorms before class.

“Hey, Anderson!” Charlie called, jogging after him. Todd looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“H-hey Charlie, what’s up?”

“Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Um, s-sure?”

“I’m meant to help out one of my friends with his poem later, but I have Latin tutoring with Meeks, and I figured since you’re so good at it, you could meet with my friend to help him out?”

“I… I don’t know, Charlie,” Todd knitted his eyebrows at the idea of meeting and talking to who he thought was a perfect stranger.

“It’d really mean a lot, Todd,” Charlie pulled his most innocent face and looked at the boy in front of him. Todd was quiet still, “Listen, if you really don’t want to, it’s no sweat. I just figured I’d ask you since you’re so good at writing,” Charlie smiled small, not wanting to push Todd that far.

“I… um, no I-I”ll do it. Where?”

“Ah, Todd you’re a lifesaver! It’s 4p.m. at the dock. You’re sure you want to?”

“Yeah, just… tell your friend I’ll be there,”

“I will, thank you!” Charlie called, backing away from Todd and turning away to head to class. I won’t be telling anyone a thing, Charlie grinned to himself, feeling pleased.

When the clock read 3:56, Neil began to get nervous. No one had shown up. Was Charlie pulling his leg? I’ll give them five more minutes, Neil thought, sitting criss cross on the dock and twiddling his shoelace between his fingers. His “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” script sat on his lap, frayed edges and all.

4:04, Neil sighed, looking at his watch. Just as he was calling it curtains for Charlie’s friend, Todd, flush-faced and sweaty, was making his way over to him. He was looking down at his shoes, careful not to stumble,

“H-hi, sorry I’m late, I got stuck in the dining hall behind–” he looked up to see a confused Neil. Neil’s disorientation spread to Todd’s features, “Neil?” he whipped his head around both ways to make sure someone else wasn’t coming.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Neil stood up from the dock, dusting off his pants and clutching his script apprehensively.

“I… um, I’m supposed to meet… Charlie’s friend… he needs help with–” Todd trailed off, looking at Neil quizzically– “Wait, w-what are you doing here?”

“I’m… supposed to meet Charlie’s friend… he’s supposed to help me rehearse lines…?” Neil’s voice upticked at the end of the sentence, confusion prevalent between the two of them.

“Wait, you’re supposed to meet Charlie’s friend, a-and I’m supposed to m-meet Charlie’s friend, too?” Todd shook his head, unbelieving. Neil’s face changed on a dime, a green light going off over his head.

He smiled slightly and huffed a laugh, “I think we’ve been made, Todd,”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I think we’re meeting… exactly who we’re supposed to be meeting,” Neil blushed, looking at Todd, whose cheeks were rosy from rushing over to the dock (and probably at the situation, too).

“We’re… you’re the friend that needs help with poetry?”

“Todd, I think Charlie meant to get us here alone…” Neil looked to Todd, fidgeting even more with his script.

“W-well why would h-he do that…?” Todd chewed his bottom lip. Neil shut his eyes, almost as if the next thing out of his mouth would cause endless pain. He breathed an unsure sigh,

“Because,” he swallowed thickly, looking at Todd, “Charlie knows I have the biggest crush on you, and this was his way of making me make a move,” Neil’s cheeks were a deep crimson.

“You have a-a crush o-on me?” Todd gestured to himself, bewildered. Neil grimaced and nodded, squeezing the script tighter than before, averting his eyes, “Oh…” Todd’s eyes widened slightly as he looked around them once again, “I… are you sure?” Neil sighed again and sat back down on the dock.

“Yep,” he looked at his hands, the script clutched tightly between them, “I’m sure,” he sounded tired all of sudden. Todd stayed frozen for a few seconds before he trudged over to Neil’s slumped body and sat down carefully beside him.

“I guess Charlie’s g-good at this thing, then,” he laughed incredibly lightly.

“What do you mean, why?” Neil cast a glance up at Todd before looking away again.

“I don’t know… b-because I like you, too,” Todd mumbled.

“What?” Neil looked at him again, not daring to turn away this time.

“I like you… t-too,” Todd’s volume stayed the same. Neil raised his eyebrows, his eyes searching Todd’s.

“Really? This isn’t some prank that Charlie is pulling? You’re being serious?” Neil interrogated, his hands still wrapped around his script. Todd just nodded, earning a huge grin from Neil. Silence fell over the pair and their newly learned information, but when Todd spoke, his conviction surprised even himself.

“So can I help you read lines?” Neil’s smile was vibrant.

“I think I’d love nothing more.”

Charlie watched from his dorm window, smiling as the two boys sat down to read lines. He climbed down off of the windowsill and dusted his hands off, another victory in the books.

#charlie dalton #anderperry #todd anderson #neil perry #angelina writes #dead poets society

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