#and then i also sliced my hand open on a can at 3am in the middle of nowhere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madsworld15 · 8 months ago

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Chapter 4 Section 2 of Heal Me, Hold Me, Make Me, Know Me.

QAF Brian/Justin. Asexual Spectrum Representation. Series Retelling AU.

Thanks always to @winderlylandchime @maryp50 and @lostcol for supporting me! Enjoy!

~~~~~

Brian watched Justin leave with his bag in hand. He wanted to tell the young man that he cared about him, that they were still good. He needed to tell Justin that he was simply in a terrible headspace because he’d been forced to spend the day with his mother attending her extremely homophobic church. Brian knew all of these things should’ve been explained and that Justin would understand if he did, but his ego wouldn’t let him.

Instead, he was left in his loft alone but desperately wishing he wasn’t. For the first time in his life he hated that he wasn’t sharing his personal space with someone else. He wanted Justin to come back so much it hurt. He needed Justin almost as much as he needed air.

Woah. That’s a dangerous thought.

Brian rubbed his hand across his mouth and decided he would much rather be anywhere else right now, but he didn’t know where he could go at 3am. Most of his haunts were starting to close up shop. He needed a drink, but he also kind of wanted a bowl of warm, carb-filled pasta.

Without another thought he headed to his Jeep so he could drive over to Deb’s. He was sure that was where Justin might’ve gone too, but he wasn’t going to push things with the young blonde. No, right now he needed his mom — the only true mom he’d ever known.

She opened her door with a stern look on her face after his second rap. Without a word she let him in. Upon closing the door behind him she reached up and smacked the back of his head. Brian didn’t even complain because he knew he deserved it. The smack also let him know that she knew everything that had happened, which meant he wouldn’t have to explain himself.

Brian trudged into the kitchen where Vic sat at the table. He had a mug of tea in front of him while he picked at a slice of cake.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Vic looked up at Brian, “What’s your excuse, Kinney.”

Brian shrugged and sat down. “Take your pick.”

“Saint Joan or fucking with the one person who believes in your goodness beyond reason. Yeah I’d say either one is going to piss you off and make you look like a shithead.” Vic raised his mug to the younger man. “But we both know it’s all a self-deprecating front to keep yourself safe.”

Debbie walked into the room and gave a scoff. She crossed to the fridge and pulled out a Tupperware.

“Chicken Baked Ziti?” Debbie offered the Tupperware toward Brian who silently nodded.

She dished some into a bowl and threw it in the microwave. Brian knew from the silence that she was going to let him have it once she was ready. It was something he wasn’t looking forward to and he hoped she’d let him eat some pasta first.

A few minutes later, Debbie sat down next to him and slid the bowl of warm cheesy pasta in front of him. Brian immediately dug in and without having to ask, Debbie also placed a beer in front of him.

“I know seeing your mother is its own special brand of torture, but to take it out on Justin…” Debbie started once he was halfway done with his food.

“Stay out of it.” Brian turned to glare at her.

“Now you listen here you little shit.” Debbie wagged her finger at him. “You came to my home which gives me every right to protect that boy! I care about him. All you care about…”

Brian pushed the bowl away and reached for the beer. He knew she knew him better than anyone, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Getting my dick sucked. Yes, Emmett and Justin made it very clear. Can we please talk about ANYTHING else?!”

“You seem to have forgotten that you came to my house. And I don’t want to see Justin hurt.” Debbie practically yelled at him.

Brian found his mood teetering closer to annoyance than sympathy or regret for his actions.

“Well, that’s life. Better he learn it now.” Brian shrugged, putting his wall up hoping it would stop Debbie or Vic but it didn’t.

“I know you don’t actually feel that way.” Vic muttered under his breath. Barely drawing attention to himself. Brian looked toward him with a glare.

Part of him had hoped coming here would mean comfort carbs and an understanding presence. While the other part, the part he was most at war with, hoped Debbie would read him the riot act and allow him the ability to show how awful he actually felt about his actions.

“You think you’ve got everybody fooled, don’t you? Well not me, honey. I’ve known you too long and regrettably too well.” Debbie took on a softer, more motherly tone. “And no matter how hard you try to deny it, I can tell you care as much about him as he cares about you.”

Brian bit his lip and looked over to make eye contact with the woman. He fiddled with the label on the bottle before him.

“Only you ain’t got the big hairy cajones to say it.” Debbie fixed him with a knowing stare.

“Oh well maybe I can borrow yours.” Brian gave her his best sarcastic eye roll and drank from the bottle.

“Yeah well hey, whatever it takes.” She smirked and paused before continuing. “Do admit that you love him. And I know that you do. Despite all your efforts to never let another heart touch yours. That’s assuming you have one.”

Brian leaned over and hung his head. Everything she was saying was correct and he knew it. But that didn’t make hearing it any easier.

“That little persistent kid has somehow gotten in under the wire. And that’s what’s happened, huh.” Debbie reached out and smoothed her hand over Brian’s hair. It was a level of intimacy he only allowed from a select number of people.

“Admit the truth.” Brian looked at Debbie, unsure if she was really that perceptive and was going to say what he’d been trying to avoid thinking about since Justin moved in. “You love him, don’t you?”

Instead of answering, Brian leaned his head onto his hands and let out the breath he’d been holding for the last few seconds. Debbie had proved once again that she saw deeper under his walls than he would like, but appreciated it nonetheless.

“I thought so. Then tell him. Tell him what you could never tell Michael.” And with the mention of her son, Debbie motioned her eyes up to indicate Justin was upstairs.

Brian took one more swig from the bottle, sucked in his lips, and then stood up. Vic gave him a wicked grin of mischief and encouragement. It was the most unserious thing about the whole situation and was what spurred Brian on in the end. He walked out of the kitchen and skipped up the stairs.

Upon reaching the landing, Brian paused. He knew Justin was mad at him and he wouldn’t be surprised if the young man didn’t want to see him. But, he was there already, he might as well try. He knocked on Michael’s door and his heart ached at the voice that responded.

“Debbie, I know you’re worried but I’m fine.”

Brian leaned his head against the door and sighed. He quietly responded.

“I’m not Debbie, but I’d say you don’t sound fine.”

Brian’s heart clenched at the soft sniffles he could hear from the other side.

“Brian?” Justin’s voice was tinged with sadness and hope all at once. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Brian deserved that, but it didn’t make him hate it any less.

“Can I please come in so we can talk. I know I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

Brian stepped back to avoid falling forward when Justin opened the door suddenly.

“Careful, that sounds perilously close to an apology.” Justin bit his lip and gave a half smile while looking up through his lashes.

“Yeah, well I’m not totally opposed to apologies when I’m wrong.” Brian gave a shy smile. “I asked you to move in because of your attack, but that’s not why I want you to stay.”

Justin stepped away from the door letting Brian in. The brunette watched as the blonde worked through Brian’s statement in his head. It was clear that the younger man wanted to forgive him but was also wary of being made a fool by doing so.

“Okay so you want me to stay, but something has to change.” Justin turned to look Brian in the eye, “I won’t go back to feeling invisible.”

Brian couldn’t find his voice so he simply nodded until he could.

“This doesn’t mean we are suddenly married. Because I don’t do that shit.” Brian reached out to put a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “It means that I like your company and I want to be with you. I’ve gotten used to having you around that I don’t particularly mind it anymore.”

“Wow. You are really selling me on your commitment.” Justin smirked and gave a small cheeky giggle.

“Watch yourself.” Brian volleyed back.

Justin stepped closer to Brian and more into his touch. “So what does this mean for us?”

“It means I promise I won’t ever bring a trick back to the loft again.”

“Okay.” Justin nodded, his eyes serious.

“Also, if I’m out late just know that I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. And when I come home…” Brian paused, the words catching in his throat. “I’ll also be doing exactly what I want to be doing. Coming home to you.”

Justin nodded, and then he leaned in for a kiss. Once he pulled away he gave his response.

“I want some things too. You can have sex with anyone you want as long as it’s not more than once, and no names or numbers exchanged.”

Brian nodded easily, “Deal.”

“And I want you to promise that no matter what you are doing you always come home by 2.”

Brian’s gaze bore into Justin’s “By 4.”

“Three.”

Brian turned away from Justin slightly and then came back to him in resignation. “Fine, by 3.”

Justin pulled him in for another searing kiss before saying more.

“And one more thing.” Brian looked at Justin with sincerity while his brain argued that all these rules were more than he could muster.

“You don’t kiss anyone on the mouth. Except me.” Justin quirked his eyebrow as if challenging Brian’s ability to agree to all these stipulations.

Brian gave a small shake of his head, smirked, and then grabbed Justin’s face in both his hands and planted a deep kiss on his lips. Brian put all his nonstated love and emotions into that kiss. He wanted to be sure Justin understood he would follow these rules and any others if it meant keeping Justin.

After they pulled apart, Brian found himself grabbing Justin’s hand and leading him toward the bed.

“Can I stay here with you tonight?” Brian asked in a small voice.

“I’m not that kind of girl.” Justin responded, his tongue in his cheek.

Brian tucked his lips in as he smiled at Justin. He knew that in this moment he could be vulnerable and Justin wouldn’t judge him for it. So, he squeezed the hand that held Justin’s before he responded.

“I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Justin reached up to cup Brian’s cheek with his free hand. “Then come sleep with me.”

Then they exchanged a kiss, chaste but still filled with emotion. Brian leaned his forehead on Justin’s and closed his eyes. With a sigh he let go and pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his shoes and jeans.

The two got into Michael’s old twin sized bed, practically lying on top of each other, but somehow making it work. At this point, Brian’s nakedness didn’t make Justin uncomfortable. However, Brian was conscientious enough to make sure his thigh was all that made contact with Justin.

“I had to sit next to my mother today as her priest spouted off about loving your fellow man. And her interpretation of that was to tell me how sexual deviants were going to hell. She didn’t say homosexuals, but it was heavily implied.” Brian finally whispered to the dark room as the silence between them got to be too much.

“Your mom sounds a treat.” Justin muttered, his hand finding Brian’s and grabbing hold.

“That’s Saint Joan.” Brian sighed as he placed a soft kiss to the top of the young man’s head.

“I’m sorry.” Justin replied. His voice was filled with kindness and it made Brian appreciate the blonde that much more.

“That’s life. You can’t choose your parents.” Brian shrugged.

Nothing else was said between them as Brian and Justin both slipped into dreamland.

#queer as folk #brian kinney #justin taylor #fanfiction #alternate universe #asexual spectrum representation

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domripley · 4 months ago

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Early Morning Conversations

pairing: louis creed x m!reader

warnings: death mention (rachel creed), drabble, angst, gage doesn’t exist in this, love confessions.

summary: louis can’t avoid his feelings forever.

edited by my lovely girlfriend @specialinterestshows 🥰🩵 | started this last night at 3am lol

You watched as Louis sat down at his kitchen table, avoiding eye contact for however long he could. It was a little awkward, you would admit if someone had asked, but it didn’t make you want to leave.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” he asked, trying to break the silence that had been filing the room for the past thirty minutes.

“Sure,” you nodded. “I’ll take whatever you have.”

Louis stood up, looking at the ground as he made his way to the refrigerator. When he opened the door, he spoke up again, “I’ve got milk, orange juice, water, and some Coke if you want some, but it might be a bit flat. I also have a few bottles of Diet Coke as well.”

You licked your lips, contemplating what you had wanted. “Water is fine. Do you have some lemons?”

Louis nodded, grabbing the pitcher of water out of the fridge and a lemon off the counter in one move. You watched, raising an eyebrow as you finally caught him looking at you.

“I can cut it, I don’t want you doing everything for me,” you nodded towards him as he set the stuff in front of you. “You’ve done so much for me; I can cut a lemon.”

Louis shook his head, sitting down across from you once he had grabbed a knife from the drawer. “I like doing things for you,” he admitted.

You would be lying if you said that that hadn’t taken you aback a bit. The two of you had been fucking for months and when you had rested up a bit, you would leave. Now, he was allowing you to stay over for hours. But for him to admit that he liked to do things for you? That was a major step.

“Sorry.” Louis cleared his throat, “I haven’t… been with anyone since my wife, Rachel… let alone a man.”

You gave him a small smile, watching his hands while he cut the lemon into slices. You understood why he always acted the way he did afterwards, making sure never to give him that much of a hard time.

“Louis, you don’t have to explain yourself. I know how new all this is to you,” you said.

You could tell he was trying his best not to cry, so you decided to change the subject so he would be able to relax a bit more. The truth was, you had gotten closer to him each time he allowed you to stay longer - and you loved him. Louis was a great man who deserved so much more than what life had given him.

“Thank you,” he smiled, handing you the empty glass. Louis waited for you to finish pouring your water, licking his dry lips as you put two lemon slices into the glass afterwards. “I really appreciate you for being understanding.”

You grabbed the glass of water in your hand, bringing it to your lips before responding with, “Of course, Louis. Thank you for being open with me. I know this is a bit difficult for you right now, but I’m always going to be here for you. However you need me to be.”

Louis didn’t say anything, getting up to get himself his own glass. When he sat back down, you couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth. “I love you, Louis.”

His eyes widened, processing what you had just admitted. Louis wasn’t angry or upset; he loved you back, and that terrified him so much. The last time he was told that he was loved was a year and a half ago, and he knew he felt it for you too.

”I love you too.”

#louis creed #x male reader #pet sematary #my writing #mine #stephen king universe

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sometimesanalice · 11 months ago

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JORDAN!

I love your reblogs I hoard them the way a squirrel hoards their little nut stash, lol.

It absolutely would not have been a Thanksgiving fic without invoking your patron saint! I'm so happy that their get together got your thumbs up too!

And I hope you'll forgive me for withholding [redacted] from you this time! You get all my fic planning (and editing) nonsense, but I like to make sure you surprise every now and then! A little treat that I haven't talked you ear off about! (BUT IT IS SO HARD BECAUSE I AM ALWAYS DYINGGGG TO TELL YOUUUUUU!)

more for you!

And maybe if you had asked him when the sun was up instead of at 3 AM he might have known better than to give you such a noncommittal answer. - i can absolutely picture her sitting up straight in bed at 3am GASPING about the cranberry sauce - AS SHE SHOULD, MIND YOU!-- CRANBERRY SAUCE MATTERS! and people have OPINIONS! SG isn't about to dial in her first big Thanksgiving hosting duties! And bless Bradley, but he really should have known better, lol. It's 3 AM sir, IT MATTERS EXTRA BEFORE THE SUN IS UP!

Your mom had always made it clear that he had an open invitation to join in whatever merry festivities were happening with your family - her mom is so sweet! i just know she was so excited when she found out they were a couple! i love how often she’s mentioned in the fics too?-- Oh I think it made her so happy. Bradley is her Sweet Boy and them together? Like the moms never did the "oooh look at them thing" because that's so weird and puts so much pressure on kids. But I think she's always loved how he's looked out of her daughter. I just love the history that is there and how entwined their families were at the start.

There was a display of pumpkins, ribbons, and a garland of strung dried orange slices that decorated the fireplace - okay i’m obsessed martha stewart?!!? and then the pinecone place cards to say nothing about the new green lower cabinets???? i love their house so so much it seems so cozy and lived in (even though they’re not real…) and don’t even get me started on how camp the oversized confetti is (do i reread the first time fic? mayhaps)-- Pinterest came THROUGH for me. But the camp confetti is the crowning glory, I GIGGLED when I thought of it, haha!

“Don’t think that’s what I was hearing thirty minutes ago when we had that pretty green dress of yours bunched around your hips. Sounded something like ‘more, Bradley, more’ to me.” - 🫠🫠 pls just take me against the dishwasher i’m BEGGING and the pretty GREEN dress that gets bunched up around my hips?! PLUS IT’S VELVET?? say less pls-- we know how much they like their kitchen! She's always worried about the neighbors getting an eyeful, expecially when they have a cute al fresco brunch on their deck and she's only wearing his shirt 💁🏼‍♀️ but also bradley's favorite color and that soft fabric??! man is definitely not trying to keep his hands to himself, sorry y'all dinner is going to be delayed

“I was kidding,” you say, stopping your agitated whisking to go fluff the stuffing instead. - i love her so much. like all the mannerisms and whatnot they’re so in character and in tune and realistic to what we’ve seen from her?-- she's like "how dare you call me out like that it was a joke??" when they both know it was not a joke in the leasttttt, lol. Sweet Girl, anxious girl! But also that is the best compliment to get! It had been awhile since I've focused on them and I really wanted this slightly older version of her to still seem like her. (which means I just need to write more of Them™️)

He reaches for a couple plates, holding them up for your approval and you point to the one on the right. - i’m actually obsessed with this line which seems so random BUT IT’S SO REALISTIC?!? my mom and i spent 15 minutes doing this earlier today!- He learned his lesson quickly after the cranberry incident! If he doesn't have an opinion, he knows she's going to. But I really wanted there to be a moment showing how in sync they are together as a team? Like the type of conversations without words and how they understand each other?

And sometimes when he looks at you he can so clearly see the little girl he’d been forced to entertain for hours when your moms were hanging out. You went from being his favorite nuisance to his best friend to his everything. - i think this is one of the reasons why i love them as a couple so much? there’s just SO much history? and bradley being like “i was FORCED to hang out with her” lol sure sure i get it, suuuuure (i need more of younger them)-- I LOVE THEIR HISTORYYYYY! I was so soft over this line. He was always appeasing his mom until he realized he liked hanging out with her. He's always loved her but now he gets to be in love with her 🥰

After nearly two decades of hard beds on foreign bases and on lumpy carrier mattresses, he’s never slept as well as he did since the two of you found your way to each other. His peace was found under a fluffy green duvet on a wooden canopy bed with you tucked under his arm. - NO BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK?!!?! how could you do this to me - question mark? it’s so pretty and lovely!!! and then her emphatic “no. no i wouldn’t” (it reminded me of That Line)-- OK BUT CAN YOU BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT THAT LINE UNTIL YOU REMINDED ME OF IT HERE???!!! Like we KNOW how soft, how delicate I am about Delployment!Bradley. But that THEY both know what it means for him to have a home and a bed and a wife and a dog and a family of his own???? anywaysssss im weeping its fine

“‘In Ina we trust’,” you say with a serious nod of your head. - i’m fucking GAGGED!??!!! MY QUEEN! MY PATRON SAINT!?! (also bradley kind of IS jeffrey like career wise so…)-- i did it for youuuuuuuuu! 💖

It fit a little more snug that he remembered it, but he thought he still pulled it off well. - i told you this earlier but this is so fucking hot like godddddddd daddy?!?! his big arms!?!-- LITERALLY 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 like no wonder miss ma'am like needed a moment with him even as the countdown was on, sheeeeshhhhhh

He still doesn’t know how he ended up with a dog named Duck. - MOTHER FUCKING DUCK THE DOG MY SWEET BOY!! also it’s duck, like quack is HILARIOUS and i can just see the look on his face saying it-- i'm going to write this one, i'm going to write this oneeeee!

He couldn’t wait to surprise you with the golden tennis ball that the shelter sends out as a thank you after a decade of donations. - golden balls!!!! also i hope he has to get it in person and sees casey and is like HA I WIN-- he's playing the LONG game! he saw the potential! the opportunity! and he's running with it! I also think he genuinely loves the idea of being able to surprise her? Like they know so much about each other so when they get to surprise the other, it's like the best thing to them!

“Woah, woah,” he says as he catches you on the way to the fridge and pulls you to his chest, “C’mere, my sweet girl.” - MY SWEET GIRL (CAPITALIZED!!!!) i love this so much! the faulty stemware! then the butter! this is so sweet and i love that it’s what gets us the big reveal!-- the MY sweet girl absolutely SENT ME. that's his pregnant best friend and wife and soulmate! I knew it had to be something silly, like chilled butter, something that any rational person would be like "thata's not a big deal" but would be devastating to someone cooking up a baby Bradshaw (or two 🤗)

There are times in the soft quiet of night, usually when you are asleep and his mind won’t quite settle, that he sometimes thinks he was put on this Earth to hold you. - how do you write this beautifully? it’s really not far to me of my (pregnancy less) hormones? this is so lovely-- 😭💖 i just love them so muchhhhh, i want thissssss

“Hey kids, I brought the turkey,” Mav calls out from the entry. - i too PANICKED when i first read this line-- bradley is trying to keep it together! he just calmed down his wife and now he has to worry about his dad going off script?!! THE OVEN SPACE MAV!

“Cooper Mitchell Ford Bradshaw, you are without a doubt the cutest turkey I have ever seen,” - alexa…i’m really not over this name? it is so so soooooooo perfect? like i think it’s the best baby boy name i’ve ever seen in a bradley x reader fic? and i’m being so serious. like im speechless COOPER? MITCHELL? FORD? goodnight y’all!-- I AGONIZEDDDDDDDD about the name!! Like HOURS of combing baby names and trying to get the combo just right! And COOPER MITCHELL FORD BRADSHAW HAS MY HEART! With his chubby cheeks and precious curls 😭 Like the Bradshaw line is continuing but I wanted there to be some MavDad love and then something of JUST Bradley too.

The man had always been his father in everything but name. That is until he’d seen the man who raised him hold his son for the first time. “Yeah, Dad,” Bradley says, clearing his throat a bit, “Everything’s perfect.” - i actually started crying when bradley says “yeah dad” because like??? we have him think it a lot and it’s clearly something that means a lot to him, but to have him verbalize it is just so wonderful and lovely?-- THAT'S HIS DAD! THAT'S HIS FAMILY! Like it's one thing for him to think it, but I also needed him to say it and for it to be like a normal thing?? That they've been able to reach that point and heal that hurt? oh now i am crying

There are no words for the pride and love that washes over him every time he looks over and sees you with his son propped up on your hip and the way your pretty dress stretches around your growing family. - 🤭🤭🤭 this is so so lovely i don’t have anything else to say-- His Kid and his kids.

Cooper grins when he sees him, his tiny hand reaching out for his dad. For him. - stop 🥺🥺 i’m crying again-- THAT'S HIS KID HE'S HIS DAD! Part of him, part of her. His place in the world is with themmmmmm

Now I need to reread this fic because them and their family mean so much to meeeee! thank you for loving them with me!

In a Place Just Right

Summary: It's your first year hosting Thanksgiving in San Diego for the Daggers and Bradley can tell you're a little nervous about it. But he already knows it's going to be one for the books, because any holiday spent with you better than anything he could have imagined.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5K

Warnings: fluff and allusions to smut (minors dni)

(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on it's own! Happy Thanksgiving, friends!)

For the last six years Penny has been the one to host Daggersgiving, but this year hostess duties had fallen on your plate. Needless to say, Bradley knew you were more than a little stressed about it.

When you had asked him about his opinion on the merits of canned cranberry sauce versus homemade he’d blinked at you a few times before asking, “Is this a thing people care about?”

He’ll never forget how adorably aghast you looked to learn that he had no preference on the matter. And maybe if you had asked him when the sun was up instead of at 3 AM he might have known better than to give you such a noncommittal answer.

“Both, we’ll have both,” you’d stated resolutely.

“Whatever you want, kid," he’d murmured as he’d pulled you to his chest and wrapped an arm around your stomach. His smart and beautiful wife. "Now go back to sleep, you’re supposed to be dreaming of sugarplums not cranberries."

“Wrong holiday, Bradley,” you’d sighed, relaxing against him. And it hadn’t taken you long to fall back asleep with that cranberry crisis having been averted.

But now people were due to show up in less than an hour and you were fluttering around the kitchen like a madwoman in a very pretty green dress, "I knew that quickie was a bad idea. You're never quick, Bradley."

He’d been away and missed many holidays over the years due to his career.

Your mom had always made it clear that he had an open invitation to join in whatever merry festivities were happening with your family, but more often than not it rarely aligned with him being stationed all over the world. But he’d always been happy to get to have a phone call with you and eat the homemade cookies you’d sent him on those years spent apart.

But now Bradley got to look forward to spending every holiday with you in the home you shared with him.

Over the last week the house had slowly but surely transformed into something that was straight out of a magazine.

There was a display of pumpkins, ribbons, and a garland of strung dried orange slices that decorated the fireplace. And overpriced candles from your favorite store flickered cheerfully on every surface that wasn’t a fire hazard to a bunch of enthusiastic Naval aviators. The dining table was dressed up to the nines and everyone spot with their names painstakingly written in your pretty script on a place card sitting in a pinecone.

You had even made some oversized confetti in the shape of oak leaves out of some old books, the copy of ‘Why Men Love Bitches’ that Nat had given him years ago as a joke was finally repurposed and recycled into something more festive over where the beverages had been set up.

The whole house smells amazing. Warm cinnamons and nutmegs mixing with bright citrus and warm vanillas. The kitchen island and countertops were filled with various plates and platters and bowls of dips, charcuterie, fruit and vegetables, nuts, and other savories. All the other dishes were being kept warm in the ovens for when everyone arrived and was ready to settle around the dining table for dinner.

Bradley was positive that no one would leave feeling hungry. He also wasn’t entirely sure where the things his friends where going to go, but there were worst problems to have.

Penny had taken Amelia with her to visit her family on the East Coast. They’d decided it would probably be better for Mav to hang back in San Diego for the holiday, those tensions with her dad were still a bit strained even though they’d been married for almost four years now.

Which is how the Bradshaw’s were hosting their first Thanksgiving for everyone.

This morning had been organized chaos. Some of the last minute-things had only managed to be checked off with the assistance of strong coffee and a good playlist.

However, he’d still managed to sneak in the opportunity to spin you around the kitchen to your wedding song when it came up on shuffle. After all the cranberries were still popping and boiling down; there was time for it, he'd always make time for it.

But that was then.

Now, you are glaring at him like you’d been personally victimized by him and his cock.

“You complaining, sweet girl?” he asks with a smirk, leaning his hip against the kitchen island watching as you briskly stir the gravy heating up in the copper sauce pot on the stove. “Don’t think that’s what I was hearing thirty minutes ago when we had that pretty green dress of yours bunched around your hips. Sounded something like ‘more, Bradley, more’ to me.”

You shoot him a look that would make a weaker man wither, but he’s built up an immunity to it over a lifetime of having it directed at him.

“I think that’s quite enough out of you,” you reprimand, but he sees the amusement in your eyes even as you fight to keep the annoyed façade on your face. “We’re behind schedule now. I thought I buffered in enough time, just in case-”

“Just in case you begged me to give you an orgasm to, and I quote, ‘help me chill out’?”

“I was kidding,” you say, stopping your agitated whisking to go fluff the stuffing instead.

“All I’m saying is that if my beautiful wife is begging for me, I’m certainly not going to say no. I’m only human,” he says with an all too pleased shrug.

Bradley grabs the can opener and works on opening the canned cranberry sauce. He reaches for a couple plates, holding them up for your approval and you point to the one on the right. The scalloped white one with gold rim it'll be.

“For the record, I certainly did not beg,” you say primly, glowering into the homemade stuffing that you’d had him get the bread from the nice bakery across town for.

“Sure, sure,” he drawls, the smirk growing wider on his face as he sets to freeing the jelly from its rippled container.

He knows he shouldn’t tease you right now, but you’re so cute when you get huffy that he can’t help himself. He’s known that petulant raise of your chin his whole life. And sometimes when he looks at you he can so clearly see the little girl he’d been forced to entertain for hours when your moms were hanging out.

You went from being his favorite nuisance to his best friend to his everything.

“Do I still look ok? Or do I need to do a quick refresh before everyone gets here?” you ask. You turn to fully face him, tilting your head one way and then another for his inspection.

He would happily stare at you all day if you’d let him. He loves your pretty eyes and what you’ve done with your hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he grins, “And if anyone asks, we can just say you’re flushed from all the cooking.”

“Bradley,” you whine setting down your wooden spoon down on the counter with a sharp thwack.

“Ok, ok. I’m done, I promise,” he says putting his hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

He pushes off the counter and grabs a glass off of one of the floating shelves and fills it with some ice water.

“Good,” you tut haughtily, as you fiddle with the white and orange striped kitchen towel hanging on the oven door, “I was about to threaten to make you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“You wouldn’t.” Even the thought of it makes his stomach feel unsettled.

After nearly two decades of hard beds on foreign bases and on lumpy carrier mattresses, he’s never slept as well as he did since the two of you found your way to each other.

His peace was found under a fluffy green duvet on a wooden canopy bed with you tucked under his arm.

“No. No, I wouldn’t,” you agree, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his cheek in thanks when he presses the cold glass into your hands.

Bradley tugs you away from the warm stove and you reluctantly follow and sit on the barstool he’s pulled out for you on the other side of the kitchen island.

He runs his hand up and down your back comfortingly as you take a few sips, “We’re in a great place, sweet girl.”

“Mhm, yeah. Sure, of course.” You couldn’t sound less unsure if you tried. “It’s just… I’m nervous about the mushroom and leeks bread pudding. I’ve never made it before. And what if we run out of wine?”

“What’s been our motto?” he asks, taking over the helm at the stove whisking the gravy together as it begins to thicken.

“‘In Ina we trust’,” you say with a serious nod of your head.

“Atta girl, we sure do. And Nat said she’s is bringing a few bottles she picked up from when she went to Napa, the good shit. It’s going to be great. Trust me,” he says giving you a warm smile. “Will it make you feel better to go over everything again?”

“Yes, please,” you say, anxiously drumming your fingers along the side of your water glass.

He’d stepped up where he could like making sure the house was pristine and cleaning up the yard by blowing off the wrinkled remainders of the yellow Tipuana flowers. He’d even been able to source and rent some more chairs to make sure that everyone would have a seat at the table.

Bradley wasn’t a schlump in the kitchen. He knew his way around a cookbook and a stove. His knife skills were pretty damn good too, if he did say so himself. But he also knew when somethings were out of his wheelhouse. So he’d taken to being your sous chef, and had taken to washing and prepping the ingredients for you so that all you had to do was toss them in whatever shiny pot they were destined for.

He even made his mom’s favorite pie. It had been years since he's had it, and he was excited to share it with everyone.

Your mom had mailed the copy of the original recipe she had that was written in Carole’s rounded, flourished script. You had made a photocopy of it to use so that the original didn’t get ruined, and then pointed out a spot on the wall where you said you’d thought it would look nice in a frame hanging in the kitchen. And he'd fallen a little more in love with you.

“Ok, hit me with it,” he says turning the heat to low for the gravy and putting the lid on.

This was a partnership through and through, he was going to give you all the support you needed.

“The turkey?”

Bradley picks up the fancy digital meat thermometer he’d bought for the occasion to check, “Big Bird has an hour and twenty more minutes to work on his tan and then he’ll rest for another thirty. Giving people time to graze and mingle and get some drinks in them, just like you wanted.”

You nod and hum contemplatively, “I’ve been thinking we need a salad. I don’t feel like we have enough vegetable options.”

He knows better than to point out that you’re currently snacking on snap peas from not one, but three, of the veggie platters the two of you had put together the night before.

“We’ve got the crispy brussels sprouts, the garlic and hazelnut green beans, and the honey glazed carrots with lemon. We’re more than fine on the fiber and beta-carotene. Michelle Obama would be proud, kid.”

That gets a little laugh from you.

“Well, as long as you think Michelle would be happy than we’re probably fine,” you say with a smile around your water glass that tells him you know exactly what he’s doing invoking your favorite First Lady.

“What else are you thinking about?” Bradley asks peering in the lower of their double ovens, where foiled covered dishes are lined up in perfect symmetry are warming away having been prepared in advance.

“Do you think two bags of rolls will be enough? Or should I text Mav and ask him to grab one more?”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes dip down to his ass in his gray slacks. So he might linger as second longer than necessary to let you enjoy the view, since it’s for the female gaze and all.

He’s never understood wearing the most restrictive clothing on the holiday that involves the most eating, but that was Penny’s tradition to have everyone dressed in their nicest and you had insisted on keeping it going even if she was on the other side of the country.

You’d teased him earlier when you’d seen him emerge from the bedroom wearing the short-sleeved green cashmere polo you’d gotten him a couple years ago. It fit a little more snug that he remembered it, but he thought he still pulled it off well.

“When did we become the couple that matches?” you’d asked gesturing to your dress as you gave him an appreciative onceover.

If the past was anything to go off of, you would be running your hands over the soft material covering his chest and back all night.

“I just like reminding people who I belong with, sweet girl.”

He might have had something else in mind to wear for the evening before he saw you in that dress, had ironed the shirt the night before and everything, but last-minute pivot it was well worth it when you looked at him like that.

When he stands back up, he gives you knowing wink.

And in return you throw a baby carrot at him with a laugh.

Bradley isn’t surprised in the least to hear the quick clack-clack-clack of nails on the wood floors as their fluffy black and white Portuguese Water Dog rounds the corner. Having been summoned by the sound of food hitting the floor from where he had been dozing near the fireplace in the living room.

The carrot is gone in an instant and he comes to sit at Bradley's feet by the stove, looking up at him from under his curly eyebrows clearly hoping he'll get another snack.

“Nah, bud. You’re barking up the wrong tree over here,” he says leaning down to scratch his floppy ears.

“Ah, come here, Duck,” you croon, calling him over to your side of the island. “He’s so mean for a man who claimed he just saw God not too long ago, isn’t he?”

Bradley snorts and shakes his head at you amused.

He still doesn’t know how he ended up with a dog named Duck.

At the dog park, more often than not people mistook it for ‘Buck’. And you were usually off to the side more than happy to let him take the lead, biting your lip to keep from laughing at his less than enthusiastic expression when he’d have to warily explain yet again It’s Duck like quack.

You’re not even subtle about the piece of cheese you pull from the charcuterie board to feed him.

“I saw that,” he says, giving you a pointed lift of his eyebrow, “You know Bob is going to be spoiling him all night.”

“It was just a little piece of cheese. Plus, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling. I saw you go over there and deliver him his own little veggie platter with some of the leftovers we had while I was making the apple cider sangria.”

“That’s different, that’s good for him,” he says rounding the island, reaching over and snagging his own slice of cheese to snack on.

“And cheese is a protein. He’s just a baby, Bradley, what am I supposed to do? Not give him a piece of swiss?” You slide off your chair to squat down and rub Duck’s belly, you’ve always been his favorite.

“He’s almost five,” he replies flatly.

“A youth!” you exclaim, “He’s a growing boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley says affectionately with a little roll of his eyes. He knows a losing battle when he sees one.

He offers you his hand to help you stand back up, but you wave him off and pull yourself up using the edge of the island. You take a moment to readjust your dress before making your way to the sink by the big windows that look out into the backyard.

“Speaking of Bob, do you know if he’s bringing his fiancée?” you ask from over your shoulder as you wash your hands.

“Not this time, sweetheart. I guess she volunteered to cover a shift in the NICU when she heard they were short staffed.”

“Oh that’s too bad, I was excited to see her ring in person,” you say drying off your hands and heading to the pantry.

“It’s all he can talk about at work. I guess they’re thinking about a Spring wedding next year. They don’t want to wait too long to get married.”

“I’m so happy for them,” you say, digging around for a moment and then emerge with a stack of some sturdy plastic plates and set them on the last free spot on the countertop. “Don’t let me forget to make them up a couple plates that he can bring home for her, before Fanboy declares it time for ‘second dinner’ and eats all the yams like he did last year.”

“I won’t forget, promise,” he says fondly.

If you were facing him, he knows you’d probably tease him for the look on his face and just how gone he is for you.

You’ve always been so generous, it’s one of the things that he loves most about you.

You were always good about hustling him out of his well-earned money from is part time job scooping ice cream in high school, like with the fundraiser you did for the local soup kitchen and the one for the elementary school summer arts program.

He’s always been wrapped around your finger, it just took him awhile to realize why.

It’s the same reason why there’s been a donation that comes out of his bank account every month for the last five years for one of the San Diego animal shelters.

Bradley had made a rather sizable donation and then set up a smaller reoccurring monthly one after the chaos that was the time Bob had set you up with his friend who worked at the shelter, back before the two of you had gotten together.

Even after all these years, he still can’t help but get a little irritated every time he sees that guy’s face in the monthly newsletter that comes to his email. On newsletter day Bradley always finds himself giving Duck extra treats.

He couldn’t wait to surprise you with the golden tennis ball that the shelter sends out as a thank you after a decade of donations. Only five more years to go.

You’re over by the bar that’s been set up off to the side, straightening the already very straight rows of gleaming wine glasses when he hears you suck in a sharp gasp.

Bradley drops the dish cloth he had in his hands as he attempted to give what little counter space there was left a final wipe down and is in front of you in half a heartbeat. Was there a fluke with some faulty stemware? Are you bleeding? There’s a reason Thanksgiving is one of the busiest days at the hospital.

“The butter!” you cry out as you whirl around, your pretty eyes welling up with tears, “I let you fuck me and I forgot to pull the butter from the fridge. It’s going to be too hard for people to spread now!”

He knows it’s more than just hosting jitters that’s got you like this, but it still catches him by surprise sometimes.

“Woah, woah,” he says as he catches you on the way to the fridge and pulls you to his chest, “C’mere, my sweet girl.”

You make a distressed noise but allow him to keep his hold on you, “But the butter…”

“I already pulled the butter, see?” He points to the sticks that are already softening away on the counter. “Will you take a couple slow breaths for me, please? This place looks and smells amazing. We did good, baby.”

Bradley feels the moment your body relaxes into him.

He presses a kiss to the side of your temple as he smooths his hands down your soft, pretty green velvet dress and the warm, firm curve of your rounded stomach soothingly.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s the hormones,” you sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

He hums empathically as he sways gently side to side with you in his arms.

“I would like to go on the record saying that I like pregnancy hormones, especially the ones from earlier,” he jokes lightly.

“That makes one of us,” you say with a watery laugh, “Just wait until I am waking you up at 4 AM because I am craving something from a drive-thru that’s not open.”

“Mm, can’t wait,” he murmurs before dropping a few kisses along the soft line of your jaw.

Bradley still can’t believe he gets to be this lucky in life.

He doesn’t want to forget a single moment of this. With you, with his family.

“We did a really good job with this one,” he whispers into your ear, still stroking your stomach, not wanted to disturb the magic in the domesticity.

“We really did, da--” Bradley groans and cuts you off with a kiss. He can feel the impish smile plastered on your lips as he kisses you. His favorite menace.

He knows you’re pretty sure it was the spontaneous hook up in the storage closet at the Hard Deck on the Fourth of July that’s responsible for the noticeable bump you’re sporting. Call him a romantic, but he likes to think it was that night in the Bronco overlooking the ocean when he’d taken the long way back home.

You pull away all too soon for his liking to grab his left hand. He sees the flash of the two diamonds on your engagement ring, one from his mom and one from yours, as you take it and press it to a spot near your bellybutton.

The feeling of the fluttering under his palm will never get old. He’s not too proud to say he’d shed a tear or two the first time he’d felt it.

Bradley lets himself bask in this moment as he two of you stand there in the kitchen of your dream house.

There are a few pops from the wood in the fireplace, the refrigerator is humming away in the background, and he can just hear the sounds of a melodic piano from the playlist he queued up earlier playing over the speaker.

Of all the delicious scents that waft through the house, the smell the floral and musk notes in you perfume is still his favorite.

There are times in the soft quiet of night, usually when you are asleep and his mind won’t quite settle, that he sometimes thinks he was put on this Earth to hold you.

It’s the only reason he can think of that explains why you fit so perfectly against his body.

Why his hands can fit so perfectly over your rounded stomach.

Why it’s his hands that you have trusted to protect your heart.

And he’s still holding you in the warmth of the kitchen when he hears the front door open.

Bradley knows he’s going to have to play host soon and he just wants to keep you in his arms for just a little longer.

“Hey kids, I brought the turkey,” Mav calls out from the entry.

You spin in his arms, looking at him wide eyed and confused as you two exchange a look. He presses one last kiss to your cheek before letting you go.

“Thought you were going to bring the rolls, Mav,” Bradley calls out just in time to see his dad round the corner.

Pete stands there proudly grinning holding a few bags of bakery rolls in one hand and a turkey in the other.

The sound of your delighted laughter makes his heart swell in his chest as he takes in the sight.

“Cooper Mitchell Ford Bradshaw, you are without a doubt the cutest turkey I have ever seen,” you gush as you go to greet Mav with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. Your son’s chubby arms reaching out for you.

Mav has dressed your almost two-year-old son in a soft, plush turkey costume that is complete with tailfeathers and a beak. He’s clearly a fan of the outfit too because he is grinning widely, showing of the more of the baby teeth that have come in over the last few months.

Mav had swung by earl this morning to take him off your hands to get ready for Daggersgiving without chasing an almost-toddler around. While it was nice to have some time just the two of you while you got the place in order and took care of the last-minute things, like that homemade cranberry sauce, but he’d missed not having his son around.

The sweet sound of Cooper’s giggles and your coos fill up the kitchen as he watches you pepper his face with kisses. You bounce him a little and do a little spin, making the little boy laugh even more. The two of you in your own little bubble.

“You doin’ ok over there, kiddo?” Mav asks, a soft grin on his face as he sets the rolls on the counter to pull him in for a hug.

The two men had made their way back to each other over the last few years, just another thing that Bradley was grateful for in his life. The man had always been his father in everything but name. That is until he’d seen the man who raised him hold his son for the first time.

“Yeah, Dad,” Bradley says, clearing his throat a bit, “Everything’s perfect.”

From there it’s a flurry of activity as people start to arrive.

Nat comes with her longtime girlfriend and the extra bottles of the fancy Napa wine she promised to bring. Only handing it over once he promised to give her the name of the contractor the two of you had worked with and the exact shade of green that was used on the lower cabinets during your kitchen renovation.

Payback and Fanboy and their girlfriends show up wearing oversized turkey hats on their heads each carrying a bakery box of pie.

Bradley isn’t surprised when Duck ditches the attention that Coyote was giving him the second Bob shows up with the famous Floyd family scalloped potatoes. Bob has always been a sucker for a pair of puppy dog eyes.

And in between checking on people’s glasses, swapping out empty appetizer trays for fuller ones, and making sure Jake doesn’t tamper with his perfectly cooked turkey, he’s got his eyes trained on you.

He had missed this stage of your pregnancy when he was deployed and you were pregnant with Cooper. He was determined to savor every second of this one. Every butter related freak out and every late-night milkshake run.

Being in his house surrounded with all the people he loves, minus a couple who are here in spirit, isn’t something he could ever take for granted. It’s more blessings than he ever hoped to receive in this lifetime.

You look over your shoulder at him and everything about the way you’re looking at him is picture perfect.

Your smile sunshine gold and just for him as you hold his gaze for a moment as time ticks on around the two of you. You send him a little wink before turning back to Mav who has his phone held up for a FaceTime call with Penny and Amelia.

Bradley sees his son peek his head up from where it had been nestled into your neck. Cooper grins when he sees him, his tiny hand reaching out for his dad. For him.

As he makes his way over to the two of you with his heart full, he makes a mental note to ask Mav later where he got that costume. He’s already planning on running out tomorrow to see if they have any more in stock now that it seems they have a new Bradshaw tradition on their hands.

He’s going to have three little turkeys running around this time next year and he couldn’t wait.

Cooper and him were going to be outnumbered soon.

The two of you had found out earlier in the month that Everly Caroline Bradshaw and Olivia Saylor Bradshaw were going to be the newest members to join your little family.

His girls.

It was an announcement the two of you were excited to share later tonight with everyone else when the slices of pies were being passed around.

He scoops up Cooper from you with one arm, dropping a kiss onto his little boy’s perfect curls as his small fist clutches as the soft fabric of his shirt. And then Bradley kisses the crown of your head as he wraps his other arm around you, his thumb stroking the swell of your belly.

With you- because of you- he gets to have it all.

The wife. The family. The house. The dog. The life. The dream.

He’s right where he wants to be.

He’s right where he’s supposed to be.

Happy Thanksgiving! This was such a joy to write, thank you for reading!

It might not be Carole Bradshaw's famous pie, but it's one of my favorites! And who better to share it with than you! Cranberry-Lime Pie

If you haven't read the 'Like I Can' series you can read it here!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#i didn't mean to write your a novel but I diddddd #thank you for loving these two as much as I do!#the babe with the cranberry sauce

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seokjinsonlyone · 3 years ago

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so i got on tiktok for more than five minutes for the first time in like a month the other day and i saw they was doing this trend where it’s sorta like fmk but like husband, boyfriend, or sneaky link and i just wanted to add my two cents

namjoon:

this is your boyfriend

i know you may be thinking ???? boyfriend???? not husband??????????

but yes boyfriend listen we all know this man is brilliant; big brained and big bodied; cognitive skills off the charts; he knows a thing or two about a thing or two

however, he just ain’t there yet 😭 he don’t even got his license y’all gon flub on the contraceptives once or twice and next thing you know you strapping your kid into the basket of his bike so he can drop them off to school 😩

and his cooking……….. like watching this man with a knife gives me anxiety

he has a bit of growth to do but that’s why you date before getting married 🥳🥳🥳

y’all would go on the beeeest dates i’m talking museums, picnics, hikes, and yes bike rides

and like he’s just so sweet and thoughtful and he tries his very best to be gentle despite his destructive nature so it would just be so cute and fun for him to be your boyfriend

seokjin:

it goes without saying that this is your husband

to be honest ion even really need to elaborate on this one like…

he cooks; he cleans; he’s thoughtful, supportive, silly, will do anything to make you happy…

everything you could ever want and need in a man is manifested in kim seokjin

so just lemme tell you what this ^^ gif is this is like three months after you’ve given birth to your second child

he got home from work way later than expected he was tired exhausted really but still helped you with your new baby taking turns tending to them on and off all night

you had just gotten into a really good sleep when your alarm went off signaling it was time to get child number 1 up and ready for school

you groaned sitting up but before you could even get out of bed he was wiping the sleep from his eyes and telling you he was going to take care of it

“but you got off late last night and you helped me too”

he reassured you that it was fine and that he had it he knew how hard you worked all day everyday and you never got the opportunity to clock out

it was his day off anyway so he kissed your forehead and told you to get back to sleep

which was a bit easier said than done bc those two were like bulls in a china cabinet there was whining and scuttling all around a few disagreements on which outfit your child should wear and what they should eat for breakfast

but soon enough you looked out the window and saw jin adjusting his shorts and a few seconds later your child bobbling out after him backpack a little too big for their body before they walked hand in hand to the car

that’s… what that is… that’s your husband

and when i say your i mean mine that’s my husband

you can keep scrolling 😗✌️

yoongi:

husband <33333

like jin this man is the total package

he cooks, cleans, is loving and supportive, will take care of you emotionally, and on top of that he’s handy! extensive knowledge about interior design!

like if you want some pictures hanged or a shelf built or something this is the man for you

your lil bob the builder <3

like idk what it is with this man but something about him is just so soft and makes me want to love and be loved by him

like if this is not your husband this is your long term boyfriend you are dating him for no less than five years and when you part way you ain’t gon know how to live without him

so don’t leave

bring the documents he already said so

hoseok:

boyfriend 100%

hobi just seems so partnerable

i look at him and i see movie nights and pillow talk

i see cuddles and late night facetime calls

your own personal hope on the streets when he wants to loosen up or practice or relieve stress😩

you go to a restaurant and each pick a dish and share it with each other like he’s very much giving one milkshake 2 straws

or you two cook together side by side he’s chopping vegetables and cleaning while you’re sautéing and stir frying and what not

you go shopping with him and critique his outfits when he tries them on and vice versa

i don’t even know man i just see hobi and i think he’s flawless i want to give him the world

and i think about that time when he said one of his personal goals was to become special to someone 😭😭😭

so like girl get your boyfriend and just give him all the love he’s searching for all the love he deserves

jimin:

….sneaky link

look at him smh caught in 4k sending a “you up?” text at the tender hour of 3am

idk what to tell ya man he just ain’t bout it rn

he ain’t looking for nothing but fun

atm it’s just him and his bros

every once in a while he’ll go searching for a connection for a night or two

there may be a few repeat offenders a string of flings if you will but never anything serious

i can see it in his eyes everyone can really bc he flirts with every living and nonliving thing in sight

taehyung:

husband

now you may be thinking… is he not on par with namjoon when it comes to practical skills???

and like yes perhaps but he definitely is not as much as a liability

like i think i can trust him to open a packet of barbecue sauce without risk of ruining my outfit and like i know i wouldn’t fear for my life if he was slicing a hard boiled egg

which is not to say that i wouldn’t mind getting stabbed by joon there are certainly worse ways to go but that’s not what we’re talking about

what we’re talking about is tae and how i just know with him you’d be safe physically mentally and emotionally 🥺🥺🥺

and idk if it’s bc i done seen him in slacks one too many times but something about him just screams commitment

like he’s giving 401k he’s giving life insurance he’s giving condo in florida where you spend the winter bc your bones get too cold where you normally live

but you know what he’s also giving passion like you will 100% spend the rest of your life in love with this man

like in that picture it’s giving you’ve been married for three years it’s wednesday and he’s off so he asked you on a date

it’s taking you longer than anticipated to get ready you wanted to look pretty for him bc truthfully you don’t get to go on dates often as much as he’d like to

your hair and makeup is finally done so you find him and tell him you’re almost done and you’ll be out as soon as you slip on your outfit

he lazily turns his head to you and tells you to take your time there’s no rush and he’s just looking at you with absolute hearts in his eyes

you’re not even fully ready and there’s hearts in his eyes 😭 it makes your heart race and you can’t keep the smile off your face as you get ready for your date, for the rest of your life together with him

jungkook:

i know y’all gon hate to hear this one but… sneaky link

^^ that may be your boyfriend but you ain’t his girlfriend 😭

that is the face of someone you called and told that you wanted to stop messing around bc you was getting attached but he convinced you that it didn’t have to be all that and acted cute until you changed your mind

listen this man is in his prime he ain’t tryna settle down

the moment you try to commit is the moment he jumps out the window

and this is not to say that he’s not a good boy but like i’ve known jungkooks i’ve been friends with jungkooks and the second you try to take things farther than what they want that’s when they stomp all over your heart

however i do firmly believe that jungkook ain’t like them others he’s more than a good boy he’s the best boy

and if he like idk heard bells when you walked by or was pulled by the red string of fate or like felt the yearning or whatever it is that he done conjured up in his head he’d be everything and more 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

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Too Late To Apologize?

Requested By @rosiesandlilies: “I was wondering if I can request a Rosé x female reader story where Rosie is an idol who also happens to be ur wife and since she and BP are taking over the world by storm, she starts to forget about you and whenever u ask her to spend a little bit of time with you, she gets upset and fights with you. You’re also an important person but you always make time for her. Can it be angsty with fluff 🥰”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,026

Warnings / Misc: -- Angst, Self Doubt, Strained Marriage / Relationship, Crying, Some Swearing, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Oooooo lord, here we go. I am feeding 👏 you 👏 all 👏 today! This one took a while to write, but I’m pretty happy with it. I wrote it all in one go, starting at like 3am (as usual lol), so forgive me if it’s a little rough. I put a lot of effort into it, though, so I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for requesting -- Happy reading!

PS ~ I highly recommend that you listen to these songs as you read this:

You Were Good To Me -- Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Surrender -- Natalie Taylor

The Night We Met -- Lord Huron

I Found -- Amber Run

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hongdae, Seoul -- 8:00 PM

“Good evening, everyone! Before I open the doors, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to stop in. We couldn’t have done this without your support, and we’re endlessly grateful. We hope you have a wonderful experience with us tonight. Now, without further ado, welcome to La Rêverie!”

To your amusement, the sizable crowd erupts into a fit of cheers once your opening speech is over. Echoes of the joyous sounds carry across the city, wiggling their way through the alleys and streets, bouncing off of the nearby buildings. The customers slowly filter in, greeting and congratulating you on their way; you’re beyond excited to start this new journey, and seeing people so happy to be a part of it only makes you more proud.

Eventually everyone makes it inside to their seats, and you join them.

--- Later That Evening ---

“Y/N, we have a private party that would like to see you. They’re eager to meet the woman behind all of this,” Pierre smirks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. His demeanor confuses you slightly, seeing as how this isn’t the first time high profile celebrities have requested your presence -- that’s just one of the perks of being a world renowned chef. You brush off his remark as playful banter and send him to tell them that you’ll be out soon.

---

“...yes, actually. Y/N and I were fortunate enough to meet when she was studying in Paris; we were being trained by the same chef. We’ve been close ever since. I’m not surprised that she hired me, though; I’m practically a master in the kitchen.”

At Pierre’s cocky words, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. A small grin plays on your lips nonetheless, and you smooth out your top one more time before rounding the corner.

“What’s this idiot on about now? Did he tell you about the time that he nearly got kicked out of our mentorship program for giving Anthony Bourdain the wrong dish?” You ask the table, sending them a glance while ruffling his hair as you come up behind him. They all snicker at that, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes; with an annoyed shove, he scolds you for bringing that story up again.

“Must you always tell people about that?”

Your smile widens, spreading cutely across your face. Mocking him is one of your favorite things to do. “Mhm,” you say simply, nodding your head for emphasis. He attempts to hide his embarrassment, but it only brings a deeper blush to his cheeks.

At the VIP table, the suppressed sound of laughter carries over to you, and you’re reminded of your reason for being here in the first place. Upon offering your full attention to the table now, no longer distracted by Pierre, you’re met with 4 different pairs of eyes on you. Warm, yellow light illuminates the area, the classy overhead fixture emitting a soft glow to cast down on the guests beautifully. It’s cozy and inviting, just like you had intended it to be, and the sight makes you happy.

As you quickly scan over each of the girls, your brain pieces together where you know them from.

“My oh my, it’s Blackpink themselves. To what do I owe this honor?” All of the natural charisma that you possess takes over now, doing its best to override your nerves. It’s definitely not the time to fangirl over them; you have to act cool. One by one, you shake their hands, making sure to give each of them a glimpse of your award winning smile.

Jennie is the first to speak up. “Yourself, of course. You’re the talk of the town, Y/N, how could we miss this?” The way that she says it so casually, already skipping past the formalities, puts you at ease.

“Ah, you’re too kind. Was your food prepared to your liking?”

A chorus of approving noises leaves the table, successfully boosting your confidence in the process. “It was truly incredible, Y/N.” Rosé gushes, her adorable accent adding something magical to the simple phrase. For the first time tonight, your mind goes blank; ever since news broke of your plans for this new restaurant, you practiced to avoid this very thing. As you stand there floundering for a beat, she takes notice of the effect that her words have on you; it doesn’t take long for her to realize how much she loves to make you blush.

“Thank you so much. We’re so glad to have you here tonight.”

“We’re happy to be here! Rosé hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past week.” The Australian’s eyes go wide as Lisa exposes her, and she shoots the younger girl a shocked look. Lisa only smirks at this, her shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. Jisoo nods in confirmation, adding, “Yeah, she’s been super pumped.”

On the inside, you’re freaking out. Rosé was that excited to try out your creations? There’s no logical explanation for that one. Your own surprise is evident in your voice as you respond, “Oh really now? And why’s that?”

“I-I’ve just heard a lot of great things, you know? You’re pretty talented.” She tries to sound confident, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. The tips of her ears are burning with embarrassment, and after sending her yet another smile, you decide to spare her by changing the topic.

“Well thank you, again. It’s truly a privilege to cook for you girls.” The conversation continues from there, effortlessly moving from subject to subject, and you love how welcome they make you feel. Occasionally you excuse yourself to check on the other guests and ensure that they’re enjoying their dinner, and every time, Rosé finds herself sorely missing your presence. Despite only officially meeting tonight, she feels like she’s known you her whole life. The two of you clicked instantly, and she can’t seem to get enough of you.

After spending the better part of 2 hours chatting and getting to know one another better, you grow bold and ask the question that’s been rolling around in your head all night.

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for a bit? I could give you some tips and we could make a couple dishes, if you want.”

Rosé nearly interrupts you from how eager she is to accept the offer. The second that you’re done asking, she’s already saying yes. The others happily agree as well, and soon you’re leading them to the back to get prepped.

_________

“Just like this, everyone. Cut thinly here,” you inform, using your knife to point to the areas in question, “...then turn it and follow through with the slices. It should come out diced, like so.” The girls observed your swift motions, peeking over at the small cubes once you’re finished. Things continue on like this for a while, and soon you’re halfway done with the veggies while they’re barely done with the first part of their batches.

“Slow down, Y/N! You’re too fast for us grandmas.” Jisoo jests, her voice bouncy with amusement.

“Okay, okay! I’ll wait, just let me know if you need help.” Your knife comes to rest against the cutting board, and you take the opportunity to lean back against the countertop to watch them work. Your eyes trail over to Rosé, only to find her already looking at you; she tenses once she realizes she’s been caught, and she returns to her previous duties. You decide to tease her.

“Everything alright, Rosé? You seem a little distracted…” She momentarily shuts her eyes at your words, trying to refocus her thoughts and collect herself. A subtle snicker from Lisa can be heard, and Rosé delivers a quick jab to her arm. The maknae lets out a little “oww” before setting her things down to rub away the newfound soreness of her arm.

A little later, Jennie requests some assistance, prompting you to make your way over to her. The station that she’s working at just so happens to be next to Rosé’s, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t thrill you.

“Do we peel this first or leave it on?”

“Cut the ends first, then slice it in half and remove the outer layer.”

Under your watchful eye, she follows your instructions and is soon back on track. She thanks you, and you bring your hand up to give her a pat on the back. Although she feels childish for it, the action works to make Rosé the tiniest bit jealous; she wants your attention on her.

The blonde clears her throat before speaking up. “Y/N, I need a little help, too.” Your heart jumps at her words, and you fight hard to keep yourself in check as you spin around to face her.

“Of course, Rosé.” She sighs at the way her name rolls off your tongue, and she’s completely convinced that you’ve secretly put her under some type of spell. Her thoughts of you and your mysterious ways are interrupted when you come to stand next to her, your hip lightly brushing against hers.

“Oh, well there’s your problem: you’re holding the knife wrong. Here,” you start, reaching out to reposition her hand in a better spot. Now she’ll be able to control it better, and she won’t run the risk of cutting herself.

“Better?” You ask innocently, missing the way that she bites her lip. The close proximity of your bodies is making her head spin, and she can’t decide if she wants you to stay or go. “Yes, thank you.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t, so you take that as your cue to go check on the other girls. Rosé silently curses herself for missing that golden opportunity to flirt with you, but she takes solace in the fact that she catches you stealing glances her way fairly often. You feel the connection too, and she’s pleased with that -- maybe she was doing something right after all.

The next stint of the night is spent preparing and cooking the dishes you promised them while trading jokes, banter, and teasing remarks. A mini food fight also took place, but for the sake of professionalism you won’t mention that. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

----

“Goodnight girls. I hope you come by again sometime soon!”

They all assure you that they’ll be back before you know it, and you believe them. After all, they gobbled those dishes down like they hadn’t eaten in days -- it’s safe to say that they enjoyed them.

Rosé lingers in the doorway, eyeing you as you work to clean off the counter. She doesn’t want to go; she’s loved getting to hang out with you. Contemplating her options, she decides to be brave; she tells the girls to go on ahead, that she’ll be there in a minute.

“Rosé, did you forget something?” You ask, looking up at her as you reach forward to wipe any remaining debris off the sleek surface.

“Yeah, your number.” Somehow, she possesses all the confidence in the world now, her new demeanor completely opposite to its previously shy counterpart.

You tilt your head at her, a dumbfounded smile parting your lips ever so slightly. “Bold, are we? Alright, I’ll bite.” You say, holding a hand out for her to give you her phone. Her eyes widen a bit -- was she not expecting you to say yes? There’s no way you could turn down a chance like this. She fumbles around in her bag until the smooth screen of her phone comes into contact with her fingers, letting her know she’s found it.

“Here you go,” she chuckles cutely, an adorable little pattern of blush rising to her cheeks again.

After entering your number, making sure to save the contact and even take a goofy picture of yourself for it, you give it back to her. “Call me anytime, love.” Her smile spreads even farther at the pet name, and she ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks.

As she slowly approaches the door, walking backwards, she says, “I will… love,” offering you a little awkward salute at the end of it. You giggle at her antics, and soon bid her goodnight.

No more than 5 minutes later, your phone dings as it displays a notification from an unknown number.

“I’m usually not that awkward 🤦‍♀️ pretty girls just make me nervous.” The message makes your heart flutter, and you quickly save her number to your contacts.

“Really? We have yet another thing in common, then.”

The girls watch as Rosé does a little victory dance in her seat, her movements a bit limited by the belt stretched across her body. She’s practically glowing with excitement, her fingers already firing off another reply.

________

3 Years Later -- Rome, Italy

Upon seeing Rosé saunter down the aisle, your emotions get the jump on you; before you can stop them, tears flow freely down your face, and you bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. She looks bruisingly beautiful: the natural curves of her body are accentuated by the silky material of her dress, and her shoulders are covered in lace. An angel cast down from the heavens above.

She smiles at the audience that’s filled with your close friends and family, offering little greetings as she passes them. Once she and her father make it to the altar, he pulls you in for a big hug, a few tears escaping his eyes. After he takes a step back, he looks between the two of you with pure pride on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder.

The song ends, signalling for the two of you to join hands and face each other, and he returns to his seat.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N L/N and Roseanne Park. Two souls destined to find their way to one another, travelling millions of miles in the process. We come together to revel in this fact and send them into their new life together with all of our support.” The officiator says into the microphone, smiling at the two of you. You can tell he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it.

Rosé’s grip on your hand tightens as she tries to contain her tears, but you’re quick to assure her that it’s alright. “You can cry, baby.” At your words, her lip is released from between her teeth, and her tears begin to flow. You wipe them away, stepping closer to rest your forehead against hers.

The ceremony continues on and the two of you recite the personal vows you wrote. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, there doesn’t seem to be a limit to how much you can cry in one sitting. Rosé is having the same problem, seeing as how her makeup is smudging some as the tears wash the substances away. You don’t care though, and you make it a point to remind her of that; she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I do.” You choke out, beaming at her as you run your thumb across her knuckles.

“I do.” She responds, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for those final words from the officiator.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Her lips are on yours before he even finishes the phrase, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulls you in closer. Your lips move with hers in perfect time, working to seal your union in the best way possible. “I love you, forever,” she whispers against your lips.

____

Present Day, 1:17 AM

In order to spare you from the overwhelming sadness that you’re being subjected to now, your brain takes you back to those happy times from the past. When Rosé still made time for you; when she loved you.

Even though you hate it, you still find her in everything. The bright sunshine of the early morning reminds you of all the times she would wake you up with kisses, holding you close. The songbirds outside of your window bring to mind when you’d come home to find her at the piano, alternating between striking the keys and strumming her guitar as her beautiful voice carried out across the house.

You miss that Rosé, so, so much. The Rosé that would call you in between sessions at the studio, if only for 5 minutes. The Rosé that longed to hear your voice after a long day; who fell into your arms the second that she shuffled through the door after practice.

As time has passed, though, she’s seemed to fade more and more from your life; missed calls and texts have become a given, and it takes everything in you to mask your sorrow. Anyone who knows you well at all can easily see through the facade: you’re now a shell of who you once were, your normally vibrant and cheery self gone. You attempt to hide your sadness behind a smile, but it never really works out; your eyes don’t shine like they used to, and your lips don’t quite tweak up at the corners in the special way they had before.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Your reason for crying tonight is simple: for the hundredth time this month, she’s cancelled your date night plans, opting to spend the time working instead. The argument that the two of you had earlier replays in your mind:

"I don't have a choice."

Except, she did. She could choose you, choose to take a break, if only for the evening. You never ask too much of her, knowing that she can't handle even more stress competing with what she already has from the company and media. Being an idol is hard enough, and you know you can never fully wrap your head around everything that's expected of her.

Though, that makes this all the more ridiculous. All you've asked for is a couple hours of her time -- for her to relax with you and get away from it all. Earlier that day you had gone to the store and picked up all the necessary materials to treat her to a little spa day, complete with bath and body oils, face masks, and even some bath bombs.

"Asking my wife to spend an evening with me is not unreasonable, Rosé."

"I'm not having this argument again, Y/N. I get enough shit from everyone else; I don't need any extra from you."

Maybe it was something in how she said it, so final and hateful, her face coming to rest in a scowl. Her arms were crossed as she stood in front of you, and you could see the muscles in her jaw clench and release repeatedly. In some twisted way, part of you was glad to have this encounter; it hurt like hell, but at least she was paying attention to you. She hadn't looked at you for this long in a while.

Before you can even get another word out, she sighs, saying, "I don't have time for this. I have to go back to the studio."

Just as she turns to go, you catch her wrist. With a slightly annoyed look, she turns to face you.

"If you walk out that door then I'm leaving; at least for the night. We need to talk about this, but if you don't care enough to even give me that, then…" you trail off, tilting your head slightly. You want her to apologize, to say how wrong she's been for doing all of this to you -- but she doesn't. Her expression is tired, irritation written plainly for you to see. She pulls her arm away, offering a petty, "Oh well," with a shrug before exiting the house.

How could she be so cold? Maybe that's what hurt the most. Seeing the love of your life turn into someone completely different than who you fell for stung more than any argument ever could. The reality is that she's not the same person anymore. Accepting that would be half of the battle in and of itself.

Your heart is betraying itself, stuck in a sticky situation: you're constantly struggling between your love for her and the respect you hold for yourself. Half of you wants to stay, to make her listen and fight for this; but the other half of you, perhaps the more rational side, knows that that won't work now. You've tried that already, you reason with yourself, racking your brain for any new way to get through to her.

Sometimes it's like she forgets all of the sacrifices you make for the relationship. Despite having your own busy schedule to deal with, you always make time for her. So why could she never do the same for you?

It's obvious that in its current state, this relationship is only wrecking your mental health -- a testament to that is every night you've spent lying awake, sobbing into your pillow as your list of insecurities grows longer and longer. She used to be the person you'd run to when negative thoughts plagued your mind, her sweet words of love showing how much she valued you. But all of that's gone now, leaving you with a shattered heart and racing mind. When had you stopped being enough?

~~~~~~~

It’s late, well past 4AM when Rosé manages to make it home. Practice absolutely wrecked her today, leaving her body exhausted from dancing and throat sore from all the singing she had to do. She’s more than ready to collapse into bed and pass out.

One thing that always stayed the same was your sleeping arrangement. No matter how much Rosé hurt you, you still slept in the same bed. Her subconscious was always kinder to you than she was, anyway; the two of you would cuddle in close like before, her arms wrapped around you as she slept peacefully. No arguments or yelling, you could always count on the nights to heal your heart a little bit.

As she enters the empty bedroom, the memory of your argument from earlier that day comes flooding back. She remembers that you said you were leaving, but part of her didn't fully believe you. She should've known better -- you always keep your word. Guilt washes over her, and she gently taps her head against the wall as a sort of self-punishment for her previous actions. Why did she say that to you? The hurt look in your eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t afford to skip practice, especially with the comeback quickly approaching. In retrospect, she should’ve just told you that she didn’t feel prepared, and that’s why this practice had been so important. Even though she doesn’t show it, you still mean the world to her. She just so happens to be her own worst enemy.

With a heavy sigh, she makes her way to the bathroom; there she finds a cute little basket of goodies next to the tub, and a note on the counter of the sink. She approaches the basket first, quickly discovering that it holds some of her favorite self-care items from the local store. Yet again, a deep pang of guilt courses through her upon realizing that you had prepared that for her. Defeated, she picks up the note.

Roseanne,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already left. I don’t want you to worry, if you even still care enough to do that, so I decided to leave this letter for you. I’ll be staying with my friend for the next while. I don’t know how long, but that depends entirely on you. I’ve tried to communicate with you, but we’re getting nowhere; we both know it. We’re not who we used to be, Rosé, and I hate that. I want us to be happy again, but it seems that I can’t do that for you. If you want to end things, let me know.

- Y/N

Rosé’s heart is breaking, splintering into a million different pieces and leaving her with no possible way to collect them all. How had she so royally fucked this up? She only has herself to blame, and she knows that; she can’t believe that she let things get like this. She had been so blinded by the stress that she lost sight of the most important thing in her life: you. It’s slowly sinking in that she very well might lose you for good this time, and she doesn’t know how to cope with that. She can survive without her career, but she knows she can’t go on without you.

----- La Rêverie, 2 Weeks Later -----

She only intended to walk by -- to see if you were there and safe. But as she gazes through the windows, peeking into the place that houses so many of her dearest memories, she’s transfixed. Her eyes land on you, finding you hard at work in the kitchen. It’s always been where you go when you’re stressed or upset about something -- two things that Rosé knows she’s the cause of.

You’re in your element, face donning a look of pure concentration as you prepare what she assumes is a new dish. Your hair’s in a bun, a few strands coming down to fall around your face as you move about. Gravity takes its time in gently coaxing them out of the tie's hold, and Rosé’s breath hitches at how beautiful you look; it’s as if she’s falling for you all over again. She’s always admired your skills, but they hold a whole new meaning now, an unspoken tension in every movement you make.

How had she been so selfish? You had been there for her all along, waiting patiently for the day that she would come to her senses. You would always have dinner ready -- usually one of her favorites, hoping that would spark something again -- but she always brushed you off. She never stayed long enough to see the crushed look on your face, or how the pain was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. She realizes now just how much of a toll her actions have taken on the both of you; you're still just as breathtaking as ever to her, but that special sparkle in your eye has long been eclipsed by something more dull. You're tired of being let down repeatedly, stuck in a constant loop of excuses and avoidance, and Rosé can't blame you for a second.

The time apart hasn't been kind to her at all; there hasn't been a single day that's gone by where you haven't consumed her thoughts. She misses you so badly it hurts, and even now, despite being so close to you, separated only by the walls of the restaurant, you've never been further away.

The distant sound of a car alarm cuts through the silence, simultaneously scaring her and drawing your attention. Before you can spot her, she ducks down; there’s no way that she can face you yet. Taking this as a sign, she decides to leave.

She’s spent the past 2 weeks attempting to spare you by not coming around; she thinks you need time away from her to deal with everything she’s put you through, and she doesn’t want to upset you anymore than she already has. Ever-torn, part of you is glad that she’s stayed away; however, another part of you just wants to see her again. You miss the nights more than you thought you would.

--- A Few Days Later ---

Steady sheets of rain pound harshly against the window, vibrating the latches with each gust of wind. Times like these are always the worst, especially when you don’t have Rosé to calm you down. Violent thunderstorms never fail to frighten you, and this one in particular seems like it’ll be the worst one of the season. Swiftly padding over to the window, you sneak a quick peek outside, only to find the branches of the large oak tree that occupies the yard swaying in the wind with reckless abandon. The sight terrifies you, but you do your best to keep yourself from panicking, even having to do some breathing exercises. Your friend can sleep through anything, and you know she needs the rest; so, you stay in the spare bedroom that she’s so graciously allowing you to reside in, and lie awake.

Across the city, Rosé is tossing and turning. The storm hasn’t fully reached its peak there yet, but she knows how worried you must be. Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of you huddled up under the covers, body trembling in fear as the storm rages on. The deep-rooted shame that she’s grown so accustomed to since you left plagues her conscience, making her even more disgusted with herself.

After turning over yet again, her eyes land on the picture she has of the two of you propped up on the nightstand. It was taken on your wedding day, that stunning view of the venue paling in comparison to your beauty. A sense of determination washes over her -- determination to make you that happy again someday, in whatever way she can -- and she gets out of bed to collect a few materials. She’ll do whatever it takes.

----

The sound of a car door slamming perks your ears up, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly pulling the curtain back, you’re beyond shocked to see Rosé out there, holding something in her hand. Just as you lean in closer to the window to try and see what it is, her caller ID pops up on your phone.

“Come downstairs, please.”

Even with the vast array of emotions coursing through you at the moment, you’re only focused on getting her inside and out of harm’s way.

You nearly knock the door off its hinges with how quickly you snap it open. To your surprise, she’s still standing by her car, but now you can see what she was holding before; a white sign with black writing on it. The words are barely legible with how much it's raining, the dye of the marker horribly smudged, but you can make out: “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot.” It’s like something out of romantic drama.

Before you can even comment on everything that’s happening, Rosé begins the speech that she’s been trying to piece together ever since you left.

She has to raise her voice so you can hear her over the storm. You wonder why she doesn’t just come in, but you think that maybe she’s doing it to show you that she’s willing to punish herself by standing out in the elements. “No words that I say will ever be able to fix the pain that my actions caused. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, and I hate myself for being such a coward. I was too immature to look past my own struggles and just talk to you about them.”

Now, she takes a few cautious steps towards the front door, testing the waters as she scans your face to gauge how you’re feeling. “I guess I just thought I could deal with it like I always do. But losing you showed me how wrong I was; I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t want to end things; I’ll never want that. You’re my world, baby; I’m so sorry that it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.”

How are you to respond to that? Can you trust her? She looks more sincere in this moment than she has in a long time, and that puts you a little more at ease. Her eyes are begging -- pleading -- with you to believe her, and after a moment you step to the side, wordlessly telling her to come in. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until a few stray tears drip onto your shirt, leaving little marks in their wake. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and wiping them away; she has no idea when -- or if -- you’ll be able to forgive her.

Soft pitter-patter of the water running off of her coat echoes lightly across the foyer, serving as white noise for the conversation you’re having. Her sniffles work in tandem with it, and she bites back her sobs in order to get the words out.

“I know this won’t be fixed overnight, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I won’t blame you for a second if you can’t forgive me, either. I just couldn’t let you get away without a fight.”

With each new fresh batch of tears that settle in your eyes, you have to work twice as hard to blink them away. “I-I don’t know what to say, Rose. You’re the only person in this world capable of hurting me that badly, because you mean more to me than anyone else. But I never thought you’d treat me like that. Do you know how many times I doubted myself, thinking I did something wrong?” Your tone is bitter now, voice conveying the pain from those months of anguish that you had to endure, and Rosé hangs her head.

“I know that now, Y/N, and I know that I can never take it back. But God, how I wish I could. I’d do anything in my power to take that pain away. It was never your fault; none of it was.”

You know she’s being honest. After seeing the opposite for so long, it’s easy to spot when she’s telling the truth. You nod a couple times, deciding to pull her in for a long-overdue hug. She’s motionless at first, not quite knowing if you want her to return it or not, but the second that you quietly say, “Hold me, Rosé,” she’s scooping you up in her arms like her life depends on it. Her head rests in the crook of your neck, and the two of you cry together, letting all of the pent up frustration and sadness leave your bodies.

After standing there, embracing one another for who knows how long, she pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze subtly falls to your lips, but you don’t fail to notice. “Can I?” She asks gently, raising her eyes back up to yours. “Yes.” You utter, nearly swooning as her soft lips brush against your own. You’ve missed them.

Her chilled hands cup your cheeks with purpose, and you can feel water running off the ends of her hair and onto your chest.

She kisses you in such a poetic way: softly, as if you might break at any moment, but urgently, like a lost soldier finally returning to the arms of their lover. She wants to make you feel how sorry she is, how much she loves you, and this seems like the perfect place to start.

“I love you, jerk,” you say through your tears, brushing your thumb along her cheek as you look into her eyes.

“And I love you, angel.” She picks you up, spinning you around a couple of times before setting you back down on your feet.

After a moment, you glace at the window. “Shhhh, wait. Do you hear that?”

She cocks her head to the side as she listens closely for any potential noise that you might be talking about, but she hears nothing. “No? I don’t hear anything…”

“Exactly; the rain stopped.”

“Huh. I guess it did its job, then.” She smiles, silently thanking the universe for working in its wonderful ways. It brought the two of you back to one another, and neither of you can contain your happiness. Maybe you don’t hate storms as much after all...

444 notes · View notes

yandere-society · 4 years ago

Text

Scream

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: It’s been a year since your mother was slaughtered, with no leads pointing to any possible suspects. It’s been an up-hill battle for you to accept what happened— especially with no answers or closure— and the citizens of your hometown have been sleeping with one eye open ever since. But now, the mystery killer has decided to make an anniversary visit, and is making it known that they not only have a dire love for infamous horror films... but they also have their targets set on you and all of your closest friends.

Word count: 8k

Headline: Small Town Woodsbroro Is Waking Up Screaming Once Again!

Warnings: dark themes; Gore; Smut; Crackhead humor (only because I promised my bff I’d give her an honorable death scene); Foul language; Jungkook is psychotic; Graphic depictions of him killing your mom/friends; we’re also going to pretend that it’s outrageously easy to get away with murder; dont fact check me on anything you read here; rough sex; mask kink.

Admin: @tatertotthethot

Baley was high as a fucking kite.

So high, that she didn’t care about it being 1am as she blasted the Cha-Cha slide at full volume.

So high, that she was completely disregarding her lactose intolerance whilst making herself a triple layered, sharp cheddar grilled cheese that was bound to have her ass blasting right back off by 3am.

So, outrageously stoned, that she was totally unaware of the masked killer standing just outside the glass doors in her kitchen, watching her every move.. With her beat up, hogtied boyfriend laying out next to him.

“Now it’s time to fawnky! To the right now—“

She crab walked along with the instructions, spatula in hand.

“To the left!”

“Take it back now, y’all.”

Ghostface grimaced beneath his mask, eyes stalking the stoned woman with disdain. She was the epitome of “crackhead energy” and it pissed him off how much she resembles you. It only makes sense, being as you two have been best friends since kindergarten— probably soulmates in a past life— but it is within that fact that Ghostface has grown to absolutely fucking loath her.

She’s too much like you. She keeps up with your humor and probably has more of your heart than he, himself, has earned a place in yet. He knows good and well that if it ever came down to you having to pick between him and her, you’ll pick her.

That simply will not do. That’s exactly why he is about to rid you of that option— or, as he sees it, the dilemma.

He growled and swung at the air, wishing he could just bust in and end her already.

“How could you be in love with that creature?” He hissed at Taehyung, the built-in voice box beneath his mask altering it enough to remain anonymous. The question was quite hypocritical, being as he was in love with a girl that most would consider Baley’s second-half, but only you were an exception to being so.. abnormal.

“Mmmph—“ Taehyung drearily gurgled out from beneath the strip of tape over his mouth, tears breaching his eyes as he watched Baley’s precious, uncoordinated ass do the “Charlie brown”. It looked more like a fucked up gallop.

“What is the sex like, dude?” Ghostface ripped the duck tape off Taehyung’s split lips. “That’s a serious question.”

“Boo bear..” was all Taehyung could muster up, more scared for her than himself.

Ghostface gagged and slapped the tape right back on with a little too much force, having to take a second to regain his composure before pressing the call button on Taehyung’s phone. The Spotify music thankfully cut off as her phone rang out from the counter.

Baley was only upset for a split before she spotted the name on her phone screen, and was quick to answer it with a sickening amount of glee.

“Angel muffin!” She cooed. Gross

“Hi, boo bear..” Ghostface flipped his middle finger up at Taehyung before clutching his Bowie knife back down to his side.

“Oh my God, What was that? You sound like Corpse, mixed with the bear from Five Nights At Freddy’s.”

“The bears name is Freddy, dumbass.”

Baley neck rolled back in offense.

“Are you trying to get pegged or prolapsed? Might wanna remember who the fuck you’re talking to, the next time you call this cellular.” She snapped, hanging the phone up with a viscous pout. She still somehow managed to pick back up on the beat and cha-cha’d real smooth as she took the pot off the eye and turned the stove off, visibly upset.

Ghostface stood there for a moment, processing what she just said, before turning towards Taehyung.

“She claps your cheeks?”

Taehyung glared back at the screaming-ghost mask, bracing himself when a gloved hand reached out to once again rip the ductape off his lips.

“It’s not sus!” He immediately defended. “I have a gspot up there for a reason. I am not ashamed to use it.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that!” The killer snapped out. “why would you let that.. unstable individual insert something into your rectum—“

“You’ve got a whole lotta nerve calling somebody else unstable,” Taehyung deadpanned, and with that, his mouth was once again resealed shut.

He called Baley’s phone again, just as she was about to take a bite of the sandwhich that she’ll, unfortunately, never get to eat.

“What, fucker?” She scorned.

“I can see you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She sarcastically spat. “Then what am I doing?”

She clenched her buttcheeks in and hunched her back out, her body resembling a question mark, before vigorously gyrating her body- mostly just her spine. Jungkook knows from the various tiktoks you’ve shown him that he was witnessing the inverted-twerk.

“Hm? Tell me, fuckboy. What am I doing?”

”Something a fucking cockroach does after I spray Raid on it. How the fuck do you clench your buttcheeks like that?”

Baley halted in mid thrust, surprised but not exactly fearful (yet) as she whizzed around to face the sliding glass doors that led into her back yard. It was pitch black outside, and all she could see was her own reflection starring back at her. She was also too high to care about the fact that she had the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and the strings pulled all the way out, which only exposed the center of her face in a squished circle.

“I use my glutes. You know that. Why haven’t you come in?” She asked, not superstitious but a lil-stitious.

“This isn’t Taehyung.”

“Okay, Isn’t Taehyung. Why haven’t you come in?”

“Because I want you to come out here.” The killer responded, grinning at the visible unease finally creeping into the girls stance.

“Okay, babe— I hate to be a bummer here, but considering that today is the one-year anniversary of Ms. (L/N)’s murder, this isn’t very Cash Money of you. Can you please just come in and.. stop?”

He let out a chuckle, a dark one.

“Boo bear?”

“What, Isn’t Taehyung?”

“Turn on the outside lights.“

Ghostface put the speaker on the phone and sat it on the ground as he crouched over Taehyung, pulling him to sit up straight. He watched as Baley apprehensively padded over to the light switch by the door. He could practically feel her heart beating in-sync with Taehyung’s racing one as he placed the knife to his neck, smiling beneath his disguise.

The lights flickered on, and she screamed, terror finally bringing the seriousness out in the situation.

“HANG UP OR MOVE A MUSCLE AND HE DIES!” The killer roared, knowing she was still too high for her survival instincts to kick in. Any sober, sane individual would’ve probably caught on to the fact that they were gonna die no matter what she did. What was just making it easier for himself, knowing her dumbass was gonna comply.

“W-What do you want me to do?”

See?

“Be a good girl, and come here.”

“Quit trying to seduce me, you sick son of a bitch. My boyfriend’s literally right there!” She croaked out, voice shrill with exasperation.

The killer plunged the knife into Taehyung’s arm, making him jolt to life with a pain-filled howl. Baley began sobbing out, apologizing profusely.

“Your boyfriends going to get gutted like a fish if I have to repeat myself. Drop the phone and come here.” Ghostface seethed, wrenching the knife back out on the last word.

Baley reluctantly— and stupidly— did as told. She let the phone fall from her hand, then jumped out of her skin as the Bluetooth reconnected in the house and started playing WAP. She tried not to sing along despite the situation as she padded over, shaky hands rising to cover her mouth.

“N-Now what?” She asked.

“I just figured your last words should be said face-to-face. Is there anything you two would like to say to each other?” He asked, that being the only generosity he’d be willing to spare as he ripped the tape away from Tae’s mouth, one last time.

Baley dropped to her knees, so much despair in her eyes. So many things she wanted to say. She recollected herself and caught her breath in just enough time to utter final goodbye: “I-I-I said certified freak..”

Tae’s eyes closed as a single tear escaped, nodding his head in understanding. “Seven days a week...”

“GAH!” The killer roared out, wrenching Taehyung’s head back to slice his throat before shoving him away and lunging at Baley.

She landed on her back with him on top, and he wasted no time as he began slashing her apart, in any way he possibly could. He let all the pent up rage and annoyance he felt towards her, out on her body. It was worse than the brutality he inflicted on to your mother this time last year. He’d only stabbed her a total of 19 times— one for every year she failed you as a mother. With Baley, he didn’t stop tearing into her until WAP ended. And damn, did it feel good. He finally felt like he’d purged his soul clean.

This may all seem reckless, but Jungkook was actually just lucky. In order to mask his true motive behind all this, he had to find another one to cover it with. It was simply convenient that Baley’s father is the town mayor, and after a little digging, he made the grand discovery that he was also having a secret affair with (Y/N)’s mother. In fact, the mayor had several mistresses throughout the town.

Jungk—er, Ghostface.. chopped off one of Baley’s fingers and slid the glass door shut, writing the same words on it that he wrote on your mother’s bathroom mirror.

CHEATING PIG!!

Yes. When he did this last year, the police had to dissect through your mother’s long line of past sexual partners, and had to track down the father you never met for an interview. No leads came about, because it was all time wasted, anyways. Now, with this new addition, the mayor will not only have to set the scandals ablaze again by having to publicly confess his infidelity to the town and police, but they’ll have to lead on another pointless investigation for every woman he’s cheated with— over a dozen of them. They’ll have to also charge him with withholding crucial information from the investigation as well, but what’s so fucking comical about it all is that.. NONE of it has anything to do with any of this. It’ll just be another cold case with no leads.

And maybe, just MAYBE you’ll be smart enough to ditch this place and come with him. That’s all he wanted. You have nothing left and nothing to come back to now, and as long as you give in to him and leave, there won’t have to be anymore lives taken. You could start a new life and never experience another hell like the one he’s creating here. If only you’d say yes.

“May you both continue to clap each other’s cheeks in the deepest depths of hell,” he told the mauled corpses as he walked off, so happy to have Baley gone that he almost wanted to skip to his car.

Now, he will go home and clap your cheeks to complete the cycle.

—

“Damnit, bitch, pick up,” you huffed in frustration as Baley’s FaceTime continued to roll over, telling you that she’s unavailable. You thought you could power through today with your newly adapted ability to suppress shit, but it was hard when you’re left alone to reminisce. You just couldn’t shake the fact that the date on today’s calendar marked the same day that your heart, soul, and peace of mind was so horribly torn apart.

It didn’t help that you also missed your mother terribly. She wasn’t always the best, but she still loved you, and you loved her. Oh, God. Mom—

No. No. Don’t think about her.

You tried calling Baley one more time and couldn’t fight off the tremble in your hands, nor the tears at your water ducts as it rung through till the end. Damnit.

You couldn’t be angry. She doesn’t owe you the company— especially since you two have already been FaceTiming all day. But she was good at distractions, always able to drag you out of your shell of deprecation with her chaotic sense of humor. She is one of the only two people you have in your life that are capable of doing such, but you knew you’d get scolded if you blew up the others phone. Jungkook hates being hounded and rushed, having already told you that he’ll be there any minute. But he’s taking way too fucking long it seems, and you just hate sitting here, waiting.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling first crept up on you this time last year and never left. You felt so venerable to the cruel world when you’re alone, especially since the maniac is still out there.

You still resent the police department for practically giving up on your mother’s case after 9 months. “Cheating pig” was the only lead they got and yet, it pointed them no where. She wasn’t in a relationship. She didn’t even like relationships. And still, they deemed it a randomized attack— no leads, no motives. Nothing. Just a local woman stabbed in the chest 19 times while taking a shower. Like some Psycho remake. No signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. Just a very passionate, yet unexplainable massacre with a useless message left behind.

It doesn’t make sense. And even though you wish to never have the attacker come back, you can feel it in your bones that they will wish to clarify it one day.

“Fuck it.” You breathed out, heart slamming against your chest and paranoia gnawing at your insides as you quickly scrolled to Jungkook contact. But then, just as your thumb twitched to press the call button, your door bell rung and you sprung up to your feet, making a mad dash to the door. You checked the peep hole first, just knowing it was gonna be him, but was disappointed when it wasn’t. That still didn’t keep a rush of relief from washing over you when you did see who it really was, though. You forced a welcoming smile on to your face as you unlocked all 7 bolts from the door, and opened it to greet Namjoon and Hobi with a hug.

They were cops, currently in their uniforms, also old friends from highschool. They’ve been looking out for you ever since last year, always making sure you knew you were safe beneath their watch. They use to take turns guarding your house until they were told to stop, but you were extremely happy to see them both here at the same time tonight.

“Everything okay?” Hobi asked, having noticed the shake in your limbs during the brief embrace. He leaned back and observed the tension in your eyes, even though you were hoping to hide it.

“Yes, just— today,” was all you could say, and didn’t have to clarify for them to understand.

“That’s why we’re here. We got permission to guard your house tonight,” Namjoon explained, eyes drifting over your shoulder and into your house. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, but Jungkook should be here any minute now. He had to go to South Korea for a week for his fathers birthday and just flew back in tonight, but apparently there’s been some huge wreck on the main highway and everyone has been stuck.”

That bit of information was actually true. However, Jungkook was lucky enough to have just miss it.. because he’s the one that actually caused it. It was honestly dumb-luck as to how he did it, but kind of amazing when given details.

He was in the express lane, him and the car behind him hitting 80mph. He recognized the car as the one that was parked beside his back at the airport, because he had stopped and took a moment to judge the driver for how worn down and raggedy the tires were. One bad pot hole or nail in the road would strip that sucker straight from the rim.

And that’s exactly what inspired him as he recognized the car, an idea sparking that could soon serve as an alibi in the future. He already had a hand out the window, smoking a cigarette. He still has those iron steak-nails he used at his construction sight. They’re 5 inches in length, subtle enough to casually drop out of a car window along with the cigarette. If they hit just right...

He gave it a try, honestly thinking it wasn’t going to work.

But holy fucking hell, did it. Not even a second after he dropped it, did the car suddenly swerve out as it’s tires screeched and sparks flew. Rubber scattered out amongst the road as the car continued to spin out, getting struck by a the car in all 6 lanes of traffic, ultimately causing a huge pile up in just under 10 seconds. It was the most destruction he’s ever witnessed and it happened so fucking fast he almost ran himself off the road just watching from the rear view mirror.

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Jungkook had squawked out as his head rapidly whipped back and forth to witness the massive mess he just created behind him. He was smiling like the maniac he is, undoubtably impressed with himself. He did it so lazily, too. But it only pumped him up even more for what he needed to do- the whole reason he even thought to do that. He only wanted something major enough to buy himself maybe an hour’s worth of time, so that when/if he gets interrogated in the future, they can check the traffic reports for a registered wreck to fit his alibi. But considering that he just shut the whole damn highway down, it’ll not only register but definitely make tonight’s news.

“Ah, yeah. We heard about that. 36 cars piled up. Can’t believe nobody was killed.” Namjoon said.

“How the fuck did that even happen?” You wondered, baffled.

“Some dickhead was going 80 an hour on an old tire and it wiped out after hitting a nail on the road. Thankfully, he only has a broken nose and whip flash, but with all the cars that got totaled— I don’t even want to know how much the cost of damage would be. But it caused 5 miles worth of traffic back-up.”

“Mm..” you grimaced, shaking your head. “Well.. would you guys like some dinner? Maybe some Coffee?”

“Ah, thanks, but there’s no need. We’ve got all the energy drinks and McDonald’s we need. You just chill out for the night, we’re right out here if you need anything,” Hobi assured, making you genuinely smile for the first time in the past two days.

But that was just before a familiar car pulled up that had your mood skyrocketing.

“FINALLY!” You broke out, sprinting down the steps and over the driver side of it right as the man of the hour stepped out. He welcomed you with open arms and easily lifted your feet up of the ground.

He looked just as good as he smelt. You’ve missed him more than words could describe in this past week— and Jungkook knew it. Of course, he had offered to take you with him so that you could finally meet his parents. But as predicted, you declined, saying that it’d be too much to meet his mother when the anniversary of your own’s death was approaching.

You continued to squeeze your arms around his neck for the next several seconds, and it wasn’t until he heard you sniffling and felt your shoulders shake that he realized you were crying. He couldn’t help but like that type of reaction. He was hoping the distance would torment you, maybe teach your ass a lesson.

“Don’t cry,” he rumbled in your ear as he pressed you hard against his lower half, making sure to up the intimacy of the embrace as he felt the eyes of the onlookers in the yard.

He waited for a second before peering over at the officers, who were awkwardly standing beside their cars. He gave a wave, pretending as if he were sheepish about them having to witness this.

“How’s it goin, guys?”

“Fine, fine,” Hobi responded. “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch out for you guys.”

“I appreciate that. Really.” He said in his best acting voice, even flashing a dimpled grin that gave off nothing but innocence as the two got into a patrol car, nodding to him in welcome. It actually makes things more convenient for him. They’ll be able to backup his whereabouts later on.

He pondered this while returning his attention to you, coaxing you out of your emotional outburst.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard not having you here. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re back.” You breathed in and sighed out, and he could tell by the end of the last sentence that you were more-so talking to yourself, clinging to him one last time just to greedily soak in the physical presence of his body. He felt something ache in his heart, as well as his jeans.

“Well, I’m here now. Maybe next time, you’ll just go with me,” he lightly chided, hand coming up to pet your head as he kissed the top of it.

“Yeah.. I started regretting it after the first hour you left.” You whispered out, meeting his lips. You kissed each other a couple times, probably more than necessary. But it calmed you down and made you feel steady again. “Come on, I made you something to eat.”

He got his duffel bag out from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before taking your hand, following you inside. It boosted his ego knowing that the two men watching from the tinted windows of the car were secretly jealous of him. They had a thing for you. Almost every straight guy in highschool did. That’s why he never minded what you wore, and was more than happy to let you flaunt yourself to their eyes. He liked teasing others, knowing they’ll never have such a prize as you.

Once inside, you were quick to relock your bolts. You were very strict about that now, taking extra precautions to prevent a potential attack. It kind of humored him knowing that it was him, a resident inside this very home itself, that those locks were meant to keep out. You’re literally locking yourself in with the killer.

“Damn, you cleaned the hell out of this place.” He ogled, not only taking in the immaculacy but smelling the pinesol and bleach amongst the floors and counter tops. All the laundry was folded, not a speck of dust in sight. You even cleaned the grout amongst the kitchen flooring, it seemed. Nothing looked out of place.

“I had to do something to keep from wigging out,” you shrugged, walking over to start the microwave for him to heat up his dinner plate. He left his duffel bag by the door and grabbed himself a beer before sitting at the table, noticing it’s prestigious shine.

“Did you polish it?”

“Yeah...” you said as you scratched the back of your neck, somehow embarrassed.

“It’s looks amazing in here, kitten. Really. I know you did it to cope but still, you did a damn good job.” He praised, feeling a little bad. He knows this took a lot of work, and it sucks that you opted to do all this just to keep the anxiety of his absence away.

“Thank you,” you sighed, taking his plate out and sitting in down in front him, then handing him some utensils.

“Where’s your plate?”

“I already ate, silly. I’ll munch with you, though.” You began making yourself a salad as he began to eat, complimenting you on how good it was. He doesn’t know that you’ve been awake for two days straight, and that you’re still battling off an anxiety attack. You were expecting it to vanish now that he’s here, but the sleep deprivation was getting to you.

So, you decided to reminisce on better memories. The old days; back when you first met him.

It was senior year of highschool, and he was the new transfer student from South Korea. He was the punk-emo guy that stood out amongst the crowd. All black clothing, more band shirts than anything. He had that messy mop-hair going on, and approximately 6 piercings on each ear, along with a studded labret to boot.

From day one, he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. Much to his exterior trope, he was anti-social and didn’t seem friendly at all. The only time you personally heard him speak for the first few months of school was when he’d answer the teacher for roll call.

You only had one class together, chemistry. He’d always sit at the back of the classroom, and you’d remember the giddiness you’d feel just before walking into class and making eye contact with him, even for just a split second. You heart always skipped a beat and would threaten to seize up whenever Baley would lean over and tell you that he was looking at you again. Of course, that would be all the interaction you could get, being as you refused to engage any further. But life seemed to play out like a Wattpad fic back then.

Around the middle of first semester, your teacher was fed up with all the chatter amongst friends, so she decided to assign seats. Jungkook’s was still at his designated one, but you had to sit directly in front of him so that Taehyung could sit closer up, next to Baley. It’s also thanks to that class that the two of them fell for each other. It was also the same day she issued a partner-assignment that had to be done with the peer behind you.

You remembered having to play it cool, turning your desk and chair around to face him head-on for the first time ever. You anticipated that he’d still be sporting that ice-cold, disinterested glare, but he actually seemed pleased. He wasn’t actually smiling but he had a friendly glint in his eyes, like he welcomed you.

“Hello,” he started off, naturally confident in himself.

“Howdy,” you responded, immediately hating yourself. You’ve never uttered such a word in your life and you don’t know why the fuck you decided that that was the perfect moment to try it out.

He only snorted back at you, though, amusement swirling in his colorless eyes. You were intimidated by that as well. They were jett black. No distinction between his pupils and his irises. Just solid, black orbs boring into you.

You then continued to battle with basic communication.

“So, uhm.. wh—..”

English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!

“What parts do you wanna do?” You rushed out.

“I’ll get the information together and answer the questions, as long as you create the PowerPoint and present it to the class,” he said without missing a beat, as if he’d already decided on that for the both of you.

“What criteria, though?” You asked, still waiting on that part.

“All of it...” He reiterated in a “duh” tone.

“That’s not fair to you, though...” you continued.

He arched an impressively sharp brow. “How?”

“You’re literally doing all the hard work.”

He shrugged, and you tried not to drool when you saw all his rings and the veins on his hands and fingers as he took his phone out. “I learned this shit back when I was freshman in South Korea. We’re way ahead of y’all there.”

“Oh.. well.. I can at least do the images and label them.”

Stop starring at his fingers.

“Mm,” he hummed with a lack of conviction, still looking at his phone. “No offense, but no.”

“Uhm.. okay..” you frowned in dejection, not sure how to respond to that.

“I said no offense,” he grinned up at you apologetically. “I just know you’re bad with visualizations.”

“What? I have an A in here. How do you even know that?”

“The teacher got onto you for messing up the labels on the last test. You got all the functions right but failed to match them to their description.” He said without any hesitation, and you were just as stunned as you were embarrassed. But he didn’t seem to be insulting you, and even reassured you of it. “Again, no offense. I just think it’s best for the both of us if I do it.”

“Okay. Cool,” You agreed, deciding to let him have it. Your face still burned, though.

“You still have an important role, don’t worry. Presentation is worth 40%, so you’re still gonna have to put in work and present it accordingly.”

“I can do that.” You nodded, suddenly feeling like you were sitting before a full grown man rather than a teenage boy. You couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you?”

“19,” he mused, as if he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t even ask you why you asked, and instead returned his attention back to his phone screen. “You?”

“18,” you muttered, your eyes reconnecting to his hands like magnets.

You really wanted to compliment them but decided against it, being as you were no longer as confident with this situation. Sure, he deserves to know how beautiful his hands are but you’re weren’t going to be the one to say it. You were expecting a cheeky personality at most, just because it fits the mischievous bad boy bullshit you read about in teen fiction, but you were instead met with a blunt and mature persona that made you intimidated in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He almost seemed.. authoritative to you.

“I see you like my rings.” He smirked, eyes not even looking back up at you. You had spaced out whilst tracing the path of his veins again, and immediately cut your eyes down to your own phone, feigning innocence.

“Whatchu mean?”

“Everyone like my hands, for some reason. I see you’re no different.”

“I ain’t even looking at your hands. Maybe you’re just too conceded,” you shot back, leg nervously pouncing as he lifted his head up to peer at you.

“Really?” He sarcastically challenged, making your insides stir. He sat up straight and pulled his hands back under his desk. “So the gold rings didn’t even catch your eye?”

“Your rings are silver.” You said without even thinking, then straight up face-palmed when you caught yourself.

“Thought so.” He openly grinned, and the little notion caused butterflies to erupt in your tummy. He pulled his phone back out and still wore that playful grin of his as you bashfully held his gaze. “Now, if you think you can manage to tell the truth, what’s your phone number?”

It’s amazing looking back at those memories, because you’re now starting to think that maybe Jungkook just knew back then that you two were going to hit it off. He’s always seemed so sure of himself when it came to you, always knew what the next move was gonna be and never once sent mixed signals or struggled to express how he felt towards you. He’s the most straightforward person you know, so much that it’s almost unnatural at times. If he was ever bluffing about anything outside of being playful, you’ve never been able to call it.

But damn, are you madly in love with him. You guess his ability to always remain focused and blunt is perfect for a person like you. He keeps you moving... well, for the most part. He wants you to move back to South Korea with him, and although you know you’ll eventually give in, you’ve been trying to hold off on it for as long as you can.

It won’t be as easy for you as it was for him. Jungkook was already fluent in English when he came here, thanks to his mother’s bilingualism. He hardly even had an accent from how well adjusted he was to your language. You, however, don’t know a bit of Korean. For you to go there, it would impair you in almost every single way. You won’t be able to go anywhere without him. You won’t be able to read directions or road signs. You won’t be able to go out and eat or order off the menu if there isn’t any pictures. You won’t be able to work. You’ll have to adapt to a whole new culture and way of communication, just to properly function outside of your home without him at your side.

Which, brings along another point, you’ll be without any friends. You don’t want to live in a world where you can’t go out with Taehyung and Baley whenever you wanted. You’ll be lonely as hell and home sick, he’ll be your only source of humanly contact until you learn.

You’ve told yourself that if the two of you remain stable for one more year, then you’ll go. You are ready for a change, but if you could just get one more year of preparation, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll take that leap of faith with him.

“What is it, kitten?” He finally asked, the prolonged silence getting to him.

“Nothing,” you lied, but didn’t want to divulge. “How was your trip?”

“Nice, but I was bummed out the whole time.” He shot you a look that made you pout in apology, but continued. “I talked all about you to them, showed them pictures. Almost fucked up and showed my cousin your vagina.”

You choked on your salad, which made him laugh. “I told you to put those in your hidden folder.”

“There’s so many, I just haven’t taken the time to pick them all out. It’s okay though, they only saw your face. They all think very beautiful— especially my mom.”

Your smile grew at that, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So does my grandmother and my aunts. They were passing my phone around more than the dishes.” He snorted to himself, “They were even more surprised to see how much I smiled in our selfies. Which... I should warn you, when you do finally see my parents house, don’t be surprised when you spot our photo booth pictures framed in the hall. My mom went feral when she saw how much of a simp I was being in those.”

“She printed those out?!” You almost cried.

“Yes, she did. She printed each one individually and framed them side-by-side.”

“Aw, Kookie. I should’ve just went. I’m so sorry.” You pouted, guilt causing your heart to sink.

“You weren’t ready, angel. They understood,” He assured you, leaning forward to take your hand in his. You suddenly wanted to cry again.

“But I promise to go next time. Or whenever you wanna take me. I swear, I’ll go.” You said in determination, and was a little thrown off by his reaction.

His face went blank for a moment c like his brain needed a second to buffer.

“You will?” He inquired, that being the first time you’ve actually agreed or expressed any type of want. “Why now?”

“Because it sounds like they really want to meet me, too? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That’s great. I just figured you wouldn’t be moved by that. You really wanna go now?”

“Yeah. Your family sounds so nice.”

“Was that what kept you from coming?” He interrogated, and it’s clear that he genuinely had no faith in you ever entertaining the idea.. which was a little disheartening. You’ve never said you’d never want to go, you’ve always kept a window open for later. You not sure why he’s so surprised.

“No, not necessarily. I wasn’t ready to meet them but if they’re that excited to meet me, then.. of course it’ll make me want to meet them, too. And get a little taste of South Korea.”

“Alright, I’ll plan a trip,” he had to say with forced enthusiasm, which you bought as you kissed his lips. Inwardly, though, he was screaming. If all it fucking took was a little conviction by saying his family was nice, just to make you consider.. them maybe he wouldn’t have had to do what he just did.

Whatever. Extra insurance. He had to tell himself, and decided to retrain his thoughts back on you as he remembered something.

“I have a special surprise for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he stood up and walked over to his duffel, fishing around before pulling something out. “Close your eyes.”

You did as told, and waited about 10 seconds.

“Open.”

You almost shit yourself upon hearing the voice, then came closer to shitting yourself when you took in the familiar Ghostface mask that you seen in the movie Scream.

“WHUZZZUUHHH!” He drawled out while doing the cowabunga fingers, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“Halloween store. I got it in Korea.”

That was a lie. He’s had two of these masks for over two years, both of which he got from Party City here in America. He bought one to kill your mother in— the same one he just wore to kill your friends in— and the other one was meant for what he wanted to do now. He wanted to fuck you with it on. He’s not sure why, but why not? You might discover you have a mask kink.

“What the fuck is up with the voice?”

“Sexy, ain’t it?” He animatronically purred out, and it wasn’t until he fully stepped forward and began undoing his belt that you realized he was already shirtless.

Your eyes grew wide as you landed back in your chair, unable to decipher if this was a joke or not. You soon realized it wasn’t as he was now popping his button loose and unzipping his pants— his hardening dick print becoming more prominent.

“You’re not fucking me with that mask on,” you blurted out, sticking your foot out to stop him from advancing any closer.

“I’m fucking you with this mask on,” he argued, grabbing your ankle. “Consider it pay back for the time you refused to give me head unless I let you wear your Burger King crown.”

“No, Darth Vader.” You tried pulling your leg back but soon wound up almost getting drug out of your chair and onto the floor. Your unease soon turned into giggles and screams as wound up besting your play fight, his mask only coming off long enough to go down on you at the kitchen table.

And that’s what set the night off. You went from getting your pussy eaten at the dinner table to getting your throat wrecked on the living room couch. Then you were forced to watch yourself get rammed up against your body mirror in the bedroom, and now you’re bent up like a pretzel amongst your bed.

“Ah— GAH!” You grunted in struggle, finding it hard to cuss like you wanted being as a hand was firmly constricting your air supply. You watched the masked man above you as he heatedly fucked into you, his chain dangling above your face. Your ankles helplessly swayed around his shoulders with each brutal slap of his pelvis. Your face still stung from the actual slaps of his palms, causing you to flinch any time his hands moved. You noticed done time throughout all this that he was hellbent on making you look at that damn mask. You weren’t complaining, though. Just more-so concerned about how hot it must be under there.

But then he slowed down for a moment, trying not to cum again as he lowered his face to yours, and finally decided it was time it come off, being as you were ready for a kiss.

“T-Take that damn mask off—“

Wrong move.

He growled and ripped your hand away as you tried removing it yourself, and you were stunned by how much aggressive he became— more aggressive than he was already being, as if truly lashing out. He man-handled you, flipping you over and plunging back into you with way too much force. You yelped at the intrusion but could do nothing else as he pinned your hands behind your back, picking his speed right back up. He kept your hands locked in place with a single one of his own before clapping the other around your mouth, darkly chuckling at the fright on your face.

“I meant it when I said it’s staying on,” he rasped, pushing into you so deep that veins protruded from your neck in strain.

He couldn’t explain it— or maybe he could. But he felt extremely powerful when he wore this mask. It took him all of two rounds to finally admit to himself that it turned him on, knowing you were getting off to the very same face that your loved ones last looked at in sheer terror. He didn’t realize up until then that he somehow considered Ghostface as a different alternative to himself, one he was growing to like a little too much. It even made his dick more sensitive to the feel of you, making you seem tighter. And warmer. And sluttier.

He’s sure he began speaking Latin somewhere in the midst, but it wasn’t until he saw tears surfacing in your eyes that it dawned on him that his hand had somehow traveled up to cover your nose, as well as your mouth. A moment of panic shot through him when he dropped it and allowed you to breathe, thinking you were gonna make him stop. But much to his pleasant surprise, you only coughed out and mewled, head collapsing on the pillow as you pushed against him, a silent demand keep going. So he did. He made sure to keep the punishing pace up and running. Your body violently jolted with each slam, ass bone aching at the brutal impact. Each thrust was felt like a punch to your cervix and someway or another, you were okay with it.

Little did he know, it was actually because you didn’t want any type of deja vu happening. He fucked you in all the ways you liked the night before you found out that your mother was slaughtered inside your childhood home. You didn’t want tonight to be anything like it. So you let him hurt you.

If only you knew history was going to repeat itself, no matter what the two of you did.

It didn’t take but a few more strokes before he lost his ability to hold off, and emptied himself inside for the third time since he’s arrived back.

Once he did that, the blinds were illuminated in a dim grey, hinting at a sunrise. After a quick shower and clean up, the two of laid there, the mask finally gone.

“What are you thinking, baby?” Jungkook wondered, starring up at the ceiling. You haven’t said much of anything since that last bit. “Did I hurt you? Scare you?”

“No. I could take it.” You said, and it sounded genuine. But he still wanted to know what was on your mind. “I just don’t know what the hell I would do if I didn’t have you. You’re the only person I know that’s never even accidentally done wrong by me. You’ve been nothing but good.”

A void clouded his mind, emotional absence taking place of everything else. It’s a defense mechanism that he’s certain only comes up to block out any sense of guilt or remorse. He kept his gaze up at the ceiling, even as he felt you crane your neck back to look up at him.

“I love you, Kookie. Thank you for being here.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said numbly, those words being true... but his next words were not. “I could never imagine myself doing anything to hurt you.”

Being as he wasn’t planning on looking down, you crawled up for a moment just to kiss him, unbothered by the distant stare in his gaze. You then laid back down and got comfortable, readying yourself for a good days sleep.

“I think it’s finally time I start seeking happiness again, instead of contentment.”

That’s when it hit him. You didn’t notice how his heart cleaned beneath your head, nor was there any way you could feel the tension in his gut. He can’t say he feels full remorseful for what he did, because that would require him sympathizing for the innocent lives he’s taken away, with no rational reason. He simply didn’t feel anything for them. He was only concerned your pain, especially knowing it was unnecessary now. His trip to Korea was enough to motivate you to move on and consider a change of scenery. You didn’t need any fear to drive you out, you just needed time. God only knows how far of a set back this will be now. The fact that you’re laying here, currently thinking that life will only go up from here, when he knows damn good and well it’ll be in shambles again before the day ends..

He really needs to work on his impulses. Maybe homocide shouldn’t always be the first option he leans towards. It was just more fun that way.

But moments like this weren’t fun at all. He remembers how grueling it was last year, waking up with you at the sound of the doorbell going off. He remembers the grim look on the sheriffs face as he told them that they found your mother, dead. It was his arms that had to pick you up off the floor as you crumbled down and screamed, his ears that rung as he held you, not knowing how to console you. For the last year, it’s been his shoulder you’ve cried on, his company keeping you sane, his reassurance telling you that everything was going to be okay.... When it was his hands that caused every single bit of grieve all along.. and was about to cause even more.

So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment. He held you and mentally apologized, hoping that there was some way to telepathically tell you that you mean more to him than life itself, and that’s he’s so sorry for letting it drive him crazy at times. He’s still clinging to the original intention that you’ll say fuck it and flee with him, but he regrets going about it so recklessly.

You were fast asleep now, snoring even. He only hoped the discovery of the bodies would hold off long enough for you to get some much needed sleep. But it seems the universe was done working in his favor.

Those same, familiar knocks sounded off at the door, and he immediately ordered you to stay put as it woke you up.

“Probably just them checking up. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, assertively pushing your head back down and pulling on some sweats before going to the door.

It was the sheriff, same look on his face as last year.

“Sir?” Jungkook frowned, posing cluelessly.

The sheriff looked ghostly pale, like he was nauseated and on the verge of tears. Jungkook knew why but he had to act like it was a throw off.

“Sir..?” He repeated.

“Y’all’s friends.. Baley and Taehyung were found this morning.”

He had to stall and blink, as if he wasn’t catching on to the implications. The sheriff reluctantly continued.

“Baley was found, dead on arrival. Looks like the killer has returned.”

“Wh-What?” Jungkook stuttered, acting like he was bewildered. The sheriff’s next words, however, would spark a more genuine reaction.

“And Taehyung was found unconscious, but still alive.”

Jungkook’s veins ran colder than ever before, all mimicked emotions becoming sincere in that moment.

“Someone attempted to cut his throat, but aimed too high and cut his under jaw instead.”

Jungkook could only stare at the sheriff, probably just as pale in the face now.

“He’s in critical condition. Doctors don’t know if he’ll make it just yet, but there’s a fighting chance that he might.”

#yandere society #bts #jeon jungkook #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts halloween #bts crack #jungkook smut #bts smut

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timextoxhajima · 3 years ago

Text

Not For Sale: Week 6

NOT FOR SALE CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Member: Heeseung + Jay [ft. Sunghoon and Jake] Pairings: [fem] uni exchange student! reader x uni student! HS x uni student! Jay Genres: Fluff | Slice of Life | Comedy | Angst | Teenage Romance | Thriller Warnings: just some swearing Word Count: 3.6k Synopsis/Quote: In which your oblivious ass cannot tell that a popular boy in your class has a big, fat crush on you | “It seems like the one who was ruined was me.” [drop me a dm/ask/comment to be added!] Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @bloom-bloom-pow @seasideheeseung @wooya1224 @gratefulmaria @sunshineshouchan @youreverydayzebra @fayqj @witheeseung @haechanhues @w-o-o-y-a-a @miingxuxi @youshineshine

Jay is thinking to: TXT ft. Seori - 0X1 = Lovesong (I know I love you)

"Ramen, right?"

"For the love of God-"

"Okay, so don't get it if you don't want to," Jake snarls at Sunghoon, giving him a playful (but tough) whack on his arm.

"Ow."

"Get me one bowl of ramen!" Heeseung instructs the younger, grabbing a seat for himself as Jay finds a seat opposite him.

Jake turns away from Sunghoon. "Jay?"

"Nope, count me out," He finishes typing a message and sends it out before looking at Sunghoon. "You're getting chicken wings right?"

"Mhm. I'll get you a plate. Do you want mushroom soup to go with that?"

"Ooh, yes, please" Jay grins. Nodding, Sunghoon turns on his heels, trailing after Jake who's headed for the ramen stall.

The Sunday-night coffee shop was still somewhat occupied - though most of the patrons were students from the same university. Half the stores wouldn't close before 3am since business was great past 12am.

Jay adjusts his cap in the reflection of his locked phone screen, as Heeseung glances through the school's portal for any missed announcements.

Hi music-enthusiasts!

I've done finished marking your tests earlier this week and I'll be handing them back to you tomorrow for checking before I log in your marks.

The mean score is a whopping 30/40, the median is 27/40 and the scores range from about 15 to 38!

I'd like to congratulate students Joo In Jung for scoring 38 and both Lee Heeseung and Kim Go Won for scoring 37. Good effort!

I'll see all of you same time, same place tomorrow morning.

Cheers!

Heeseung begins chewing on his bottom lip, fingers reaching his upper lip to pick at the chapped skin.

Shit.

He sniffles, casually locking his phone and adjusts his beanie over his head as Jay yawns, resting his left cheek in his left palm with his elbow perched atop the table surface.

"Why'd you come for supper when you're already tired?"

"I was hungry and craving for chicken," Jay replies, eyes still closed under his cap. "I also got sick of staring at my project file."

Heeseung smirks. "Didn't you just start that practical?"

"Yeah, I did," The younger groans, pressing his fingerpads over his eyelids. "But it's kind of hard to stare at that when I have a date the week after."

"With that girl from marketing?"

"Yeah."

"Ah," Heeseung leans his cheek into his closed fist. "Where are you guys going again?"

"Disneyland."

Heeseung's eyes flicker and with his brows raised, he fails to stop the bemused squeak that escapes between his teeth.

"What?" Jay frowns, finally opening his eyes but yawning again.

"Nothing!' Heeseung swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, thoughtlessly dragging his finger over the edge of his phone to distract himself.

Distract himself from the fact that he was bringing you to Disneyland.

"You should do that too, you know. Ask that girl you like out."

Heeseung smacks his lips, erasing his smile at Jay's horrendous suggestion. "Unlike you, I don't have the means to get Disneyland tickets."

"So don't go to Disneyland. Bring her to the beach or something."

"I don't know if she likes the sand and water."

"Have you tried?"

"No."

"Then?"

He squints at his roommate, satisfied that he's cornered Heeseung.

"All I'm saying is that there's nothing to worry about. If she's not interested, she won't agree. If she is, she'll go, and you can decide how much you want to invest in her when she does."

"How much to invest in who when who does?" Sunghoon chimes in, a tray in his hands with two plates of chicken wings and a bowl of mushroom soup. Jake comes by behind him with two bowls of ramen.

"I was just telling Heeseung to ask the girl he likes out."

"Oh!" Sunghoon's lips are stretched out so wide by the sarcastic smile on his face, Heeseung nearly grimaces in disgust. But the fear of catching Jay's attention far exceeds his need to express his contempt. "Were you?"

Jake sits, handing Heeseung a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. The awkward noises of plastic as the cutlery and utensils ship around the table picks up a certain tension, and Heeseung remains quiet, rubbing his lips together between his teeth.

Jay's cheeks are puffed out, his mind too occupied with his food to process the silence.

"Well, are you?" The aggression in Sunghoon tears through Heeseung, who cannot respond and instead stares at him with wide eyes. The whites around his pupils glisten in a silent plea.

"What could go wrong?" Jay stabs a piece of chicken, using the knife to slice the flesh away from its bone. Heeseung's eyes shake in their own sockets at the would-otherwise-be-normal-gesture.

That's gonna be me when Jay finds out.

"Everything," Sunghoon takes a seat diagonally across Heeseung, butting in and glaring at Heeseung. "Let Heeseung do what he wants to do."

"If we let him do that then he's not gonna make a move, right?" With a mischievous smirk, Jay glances up at Heeseung before returning his tunnel vision to his chicken.

The panic surges through Heeseung for a bit, then he blurts out a resounding "right".

Jake's eyes widen, though they were merely focused on shaking the strands of ramen apart. His eyes dart up from the bowl of noodles and at Sunghoon opposite him - now filled with frustration as he openly flits his attention between Jay and Heeseung.

His lips part to berate either one of them, but Jake quickly propels his leg out and jabs Sunghoon in the shin.

"Ow!"

"Did he kick you?" Jay snorts, already cleaning the first drumstick.

"No," Sneering at Jake, Sunghoon drives his fork through a chicken wing. "Bug bite."

"Anyway!" Jay shakes it off, oblivious to the tension. "So, ask her out to the beach. Do up a picnic or something."

Heeseung side-eyes Sunghoon, and he's got that 'I'm gonna kill you if you say yes' banner plastered to his forehead.

"And then if it doesn't work out, y'know," Jay shrugs. "You didn't offend anybody."

Sunghoon's eyes now read 'I'll fucking murder you in your sleep if you agree'.

"I agree with Jay."

Pure shock and agitation rush across Sunghoon's face when the boy opposite him decides to involve himself. Jay's too focused on his food, so he doesn't notice the sharp frown and look of scorn on Sunghoon's brows.

Sunghoon's brows twitch. 'What the Hell are you doing?'

"Well," Jake carefully begins, smart enough to keep his legs under the seat. "I think Heeseung could ask her out and then it depends on whether she says yes or no. It is up to her, right?"

Jake innocently blinks at Sunghoon.

'Jay's pride would be hurt if Heeseung gave up on a girl for him'.

Sunghoon's eyes flutter shut, lips pursed into a thin, white line.

"Exactly. There's nothing on the line. Maybe your pride, but you'd feel worse if you didn't try, right?" Jay waves his spoon in the air before dipping it into his soup. "Trust me. Spoken from personal experience."

Sunghoon lets out a wry chuckle, shaking his head to himself and earning a look of confusion from Jay. But he chooses to brush it off, and they fall to a comfortable silence once more.

Hi music-enthusiasts!

I've done finished marking your tests earlier this week and I'll be handing them back to you tomorrow for checking before I log in your marks.

The mean score is a whopping 30/40, the median is 27/40 and the scores range from about 15 to 38!

I'd like to congratulate students Joo In Jung for scoring 38 and both Lee Heeseung and Kim Go Won for scoring 37. Good effort!

I'll see all of you same time, same place tomorrow morning.

Cheers!

"Any plans for recess week? I was thinking we can do dinner on maybe Wednesday and Friday."

"That's fine," You lock your phone and feel the competitive spirit inside you die a little. "I'm going out on Tuesday."

"Oh?" Your father turns to you, peeling his eyes off the road just for a second. The wipers squeak a little as it swishes the raindrops off the glass. "Where to?"

"Disneyland."

The car slows to a stop when it reaches the junction right outside of school.

"Disneyland? Did you pay for the ticket on your own? It's expensive, isn't it? With who?"

You turn your head, anticipating his reaction as you answer his every question with a lack of respect. "Yes, no because it's free, and with Jay."

"Jay??" He frowns, trying his best to blink away his surprise but to no avail. "Jay asked you out to Disneyland?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No, I just- I'm- Well," He coughs and clears his throat, glancing at the roads outside. "I guess I just didn't expect it."

"Well, you did send him my way at the start of the semester."

"I did."

The traffic light turns green, and he releases the brakes. The pride tastes sweet in the back of your throat as you turn back out the window, satisfied that he's shut up about anything he has to say.

If anything, your meeting with Jay was his fault.

The vehicle slows down to a halt once more as he drives up to the drop-off point nearest to your MH lecture, and the dark, grey cloud hanging above you was threatening to rain again. Dewy rain scents waft through your nose when you push the door open, and he calls out to you just before you slam it shut.

"Are you dating Jay?"

"What?" Your fingers clench around the door handle. "No."

"You don't have to hide it if you are, you know-"

"I'm not dating Jay. Can I please just go now-"

"It's completely fine if you are. I just don't want you to get hurt because you're only gonna be here for another-"

"Well, gee! I wonder why this was a problem in the first place-"

"y/n-"

"y/n!"

The higher-pitched voice rings out from behind you, and your face falls in slight distraught when you find Heeseung jogging up to par.

"Hi, uncle!"

"Ah," Your father's eyes widen, obviously more surprised now that he's seeing another boy standing next to you.

A slight wince crushes your brows, knowing that he's gonna think too much about this - He hasn't seen you with a boy in... forever because of how long he's spent away from you.

With a wide smile, your father greets Heeseung. "You are y/n's music history classmate, I assume?"

"That's right!" Heeseung beams, smiling widely at him. You take a step back, biting on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from hurling from this sight. Heeseung's literally nearly bent 90 degrees just to meet your father's eyes under the roof of the car.

"Alright, well- I won't be in your way anymore!" A car behind honks.

"Drive safe, uncle!" Heeseung bows, shifting and subconsciously repelling you away from the door so he can close it. "Bye!"

And before your father can give one more wave, Heeseung slams the door shut. Both panic and confusion surge your lungs, but you cannot help but try to hide the smile threatening to surface on your lips. Your father still makes the effort to lean forward and wave to you as he drives out, smile still plastered his face when he waves to Heeseung.

Once out of sight, Heeseung turns to you, lids hooded and lips pursed with his fingers wrapped around his bag strap. "Really? Along the drop-off point?"

Sneering through a pout, you take off first. "It's not my fault he brought up 'dating' and how I'll be hurt when the sem ends."

"Okay, but along the drop-off point?" Taking larger steps, he catches up within a few seconds. The query brings your feet to an abrupt stop, turning to glare at him.

"Whose side are you on?"

"There are sides now?" He raises a brow, cocking his head to the side.

"Ugh, forget it. I don't need to get into a fight with you before I get my test paper back."

Heeseung watches your sullen back trudge off in the direction of the lecture theatre. He could guess that you've already seen the announcement, and he was just lucky you haven't run a pen through an eyeball.

He owes this score to you.

Later in class, the grimace that Heeseung carries on his face as he turns away from you when his name is called out is stubborn.

"Just so you know, I don't really care that you scored higher than me," Keeping your eyes glued to your notes, you're already highlighting this week's content. "You worked hard for it and I was in a mess when I took the test so..."

"I... Still feel bad."

You look up, eyes trailing his fingers as they scratch the back of his head.

"Don't be. It's your hard work versus my shitty timing."

"Can Heeseung come down and get your paper?"

He glances at you, catching your gaze as he stands. "Do you want me to get yours for you? I can ask the prof."

"Sure," Nodding, you offer him a tired smile. "Thanks."

Heeseung hops down the stairs two steps at a time, reaching the front within seconds. The professor leans towards him, and they both simultaneously turn to you when Heeseung points at you with his thumb over his shoulder.

The professor flips through the stack of sheets in his hand, pulling out one more that was near the middle. When Heeseung returns with your test rolled up in his hand, his Bambi eyes are wide, like he was about to impart some life-changing information to you.

"What? How badly did I fail?"

Heeseung's raises his brows, biting a tiny smile away. "You didn't fail."

A frown creases your forehead. "Give me that."

Heeseung holds it out, just for you to snatch it out of his grip.

23/40

"So confident that you'd fail, huh?" He teases, easily stepping over the row of seats in front of you and dumping himself into his own.

"I left half the paper empty," You hastily flip through the sheets, some corners getting crumpled in the process.

"Subtle flex but alright."

Relief washes over you when you mentally recount the tallied score - you're just happy you passed.

Sighing through your mouth, you turn to Heeseung by instinct, wanting to express your gratitude and happiness that you had passed (though it wasn't really to his credit).

But he's already looking at you, eyes halved into crescents and mirroring the smile on your lips.

By the end of the lesson, everything feels like it's gone back to normal.

Heeseung was drifting in and out of dreamland, and you were struggling to maintain a consistent pace of jabbing him with your pen. You were positive the professor was pretty confused that Heeseung had topped the test.

It was fun to watch him jerk awake when the professor drops a book though, the loud thud echoing through the lecture hall as he calls the time.

"Good morning," You side-eye him, grabbing your things and slotting them back into your bag.

"Uh," He groans, stretching his neck for it was dangling in a precarious angle the entire time he passed out. "Did he-"

"Nope. He told us to watch the documentary before next week if we can."

"Oh," He smacks his lips, finally gaining enough composure to think. "That's gonna be boring."

"At least you don't have to study the transcript or a textbook."

Heeseung stretches as you push the lecture table away, already getting to your feet.

"Hey, um-" He calls out, grabbing his laptop and sliding it into his bag. "I wanted to ask- um... do you... wanna hang out during recess week?"

The question requests you more brainpower to process this information.

"What?"

"Uh-" His jaw goes slack and he blinks the eye contact away. "Nevermind."

"No! No," And then for some reason, you find it reasonable to reach out and grab his wrist as he stands.

But now that he's standing, his height reminds you of the stunt he pulled last week with you under the rain. After the test you fucked up.

"Um," Hastily removing your hand, you shove them into your jacket pockets. "I mean- yeah, sure. But I'm not available on Tuesday. And Wednesday and Friday."

"Oh!" His eyes light up with mischief when he hears your active schedule. "Busy."

"Dad duties."

"Right," Heeseung nods, gesturing you to head out the row and walk down the steps. "Anyway, I was thinking beach. In the evening. We could grab a pizza and some cake and have a picnic if you want."

"Huh," You wave to the professor, and Heeseung mirrors you while walking behind you. "I didn't take you for the romantic kind."

Your palm presses flat into the door as you attempt to get it open, but Heeseung uses his fist to push the door further out so that you didn't have to.

His arm's right next to your head, and it takes you a couple of seconds to realise why he hasn't responded to you.

'Romantic kind'???????

A wince crunches your face, but you're grateful he can't see it.

"You think that's romantic?" He laughs, levelling up with your footing after you've exited the lecture theatre. "I guess you haven't really gone on a real date before then."

"What?" Turning to him now, you're starting to question your hearing.

"What?" He looks down at you, blinking his confusion all across his face.

No, don't make it weird, don't make it weird, don't make it weird. He didn't mean it that way.

"No, nothing," You lick your lips and sigh, breaking your attention from him. "I just- I've had my fair share of dates, okay?"

"Oh, really?" Heeseung teases. "Do tell."

Jay pays for both cups of banana smoothies, casually handing one to you even though you've already said you were fine without it.

The students by the study area were busy talking and chatting and the entire main hub was bustling with activities whilst the university's 'TEABREAK' fair was going on.

Jay told you that it was just a way for the university to convince the students they should be happy about the one week break that's called recess week.

But as he talks to you about Pohang, your heart slowly begins to open.

It feels like he wants to know everything about you.

Every few seconds, you're reminded that you didn't pay a single cent for the drink you're holding. Every look you provide him, he's smiling at you like an idiot waiting to fall in love, and it's becoming more of a problem than you've predicted.

Yet, cemented deep down in your gut, you remember Heeseung.

"Does Byeol go to the same uni as you?"

"Nope, didn't want to."

You walk down the stairs and into a more secluded part of the campus, down an open hallway with more levels and bridges above your heads.

"'Didn't want to'?" Jay frowns, skilfully tossing his empty cup into a nearby bin over your head. "She's as smart as you and chose not to go?"

"She's-"

"Hey! Watch out!"

Suddenly, a force yanks on your bag backwards and sideways. Jay wraps his arm around your bag, fingers wrapping around your upper arm as he pulls you aside.

"Hey, you! Stop!"

Naturally, your fists clench and you awkwardly hold your cup close to your chest. Your eyes widen in heart-stopping surprise when a brick lands on the ground right where you were standing.

"Yo! Are you okay?!" Someone perks his head over the side of the level above you. "Someone dumped the fucking brick over the side! Fucking crazy son of a bitch-"

You don't realise you're panting until the rigidity of his arm around your shoulders remain still. Turning to Jay, his eyes quickly dart all around you in a bid to check if you're okay, then without letting go, he looks up.

"She's okay! Did you see his face?!"

"No!" He pokes his head out again. "We're calling campus security right now, so if you'd like to stay to give a statement or something!"

"Do you want to stay?" Jay turns to you, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, but his eyes are still alert with concern. The warmth from his grip on your arm refuses to stop eating at your composure.

It's the brick. It's the brick. It's the brick.

"y/n? Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Feeling your brows fly higher on your forehead, you blink profusely at him, at a loss of vocabulary.

He sighs, then it's almost like a realisation hits him - he purses his lips into a thin, tight line. With a hint of hesitation, he reaches up and pushes a lock of fringe out of your face, the physical contact sending your stomach into a flurry of emotions before you can even process them.

"Do you want to stay and talk to campus security? We can just go if you don't want to. There are other witnesses anyway," Gently releasing you, your shaken spirit slowly seeps back into reality.

"Um, no," You shake your head, eyes unable to find a spot to anchor your attention on. "I'm fine. Thanks."

Jay offers you a tiny smile, calmly reaching up and stroking the crown of your head. "Of course. Anything for you."

He takes a few seconds to tear his attention away from you, before turning and glancing up at a now-gathered commotion where the brick was hurled over the side, and he gestures to the student who called campus security.

"Come on," He nods you away from the brick. "I'll walk you home."

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfic #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #jay scenarios #jay imagines #jay x reader #let's try this again lol

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dirtydobrik · 4 years ago

Text

design ideas - d.d.

plot: you and david disagree on the designs for his next merch collection

word count: 1150

masterlist

“Babe, come take a look at the new designs,” David shouted from the couch, where he had his laptop open to the new merch line and sample products.

You dropped the knife that you had just finished using into the sink and carried your plate of apple slices and peanut butter over to the living room. You set the plate down on the coffee table, eating a slice as you settled into the couch next to David. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into him.

“So this is the logo for the new collection,” he said, pointing to multicolored bubble letters spelling out Clickbait. “We’re going to put it as a small logo on t-shirts and a large logo on hoodies, and the words are going to go down the leg on the sweatpants,” he explained as he clicked through the mock up design ideas of pastel colored clothing, phone cases, and phone cases.

As he scrolled through the different pieces, you found yourself unimpressed by the line. It didn’t really feel personal or authentic to him or his brand.

A frown formed on David’s face as he noticed your lack of enthusiasm regarding the designs. “What’s wrong?” he asked, suddenly worried about the new line.

“Nothing. It’s just, I don’t totally love it,” you admitted, shrugging your shoulders and popping another apple slice into your mouth.

He leaned forward and setting his laptop on the coffee table so he could turn and face you. “Why not?”

You took a deep breath, not wanting to hurt his feelings, “It just doesn’t feel like you.”

His eyebrows knit together, confused by what you meant.

“I mean, it’s super trendy and the pieces are cute, but come on David, you’re never going to wear anything from this collection after you take promo shots,” you explained.

David was still puzzled by your reaction, he had expected you to love the line. “Is that a bad thing? If the pieces are trendy then people are going to want to buy them.”

“It seems like a cash grab, Dave,” you shrugged, watching his face fall.

“A lot of work went into this line, babe,” he sighed, not sure about what he was going to do now.

“And I’m not saying that you can’t release it.”

“But you hate it,” he reminded you.

“I don’t hate it,” you groaned, taking a deep breath to gather your thoughts. “I guess I just don’t understand why you’d sell pastel hoodies when you basically live in black. You should design and sell merch that you would wear.”

“You’re right,” he replied. “But that’s all I’ve ever really released for merch and I wanted to try something new,”

“So ease into adding colors to a collection, babe. You can slowly change your brand but it comes across as really inauthentic if you do something just because it’s trendy.”

David nodded, listening to what you were saying. He appreciated how you explained your thoughts from both a business and personal perspective.

———

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” David said, getting up from the couch to grab water from the kitchen. You had spent the evening watching David stream and then put on a movie after cooking dinner.

“I’ll be in soon. There’s a few things I need to finish,” you said, tilting your head over the top of the couch as David leaned down to kiss you.

“Don’t stay up too late. I love you,” he whispered, kissing you again.

“I won’t, I promise. I love you, too. Good night babe,” you smiled.

You waited until David was back in his room to pull your iPad and apple pencil out of your purse. David’s laptop was still on the coffee table and decided to send yourself the rough sketches of his new merch. You had interned for a fashion designer when you were in college studying graphic design and advertising, and you wanted to come up with some way to redesign it that felt more authentic to David’s personality without completely changing the entire line. You opened Procreate and imported the logo. You didn’t care if he didn’t love your ideas, but you wanted to remind him of what he used to release.

You played around with different color palettes, trying to see what worked and what didn’t with the merch he had previously released. After a few attempts, you decided that the outline of the letters should be multicolored and the clothing pieces should only be sold in neutrals: black, light grey, and white. The line was still fun and appealing to the masses, but it was more grounded than his original design he had shown you.

You found the process both exhilarating and entertaining and you spent some time creating new logo designs and color palettes for future merch drops, although you didn’t seem to care if he didn’t want to release anything you created.

A few hours later, as you were putting the finishing touches on your ideas, you heard David’s bedroom door open and he shuffled across the hardwood floor until you were in his line of sight.

“I thought you said you coming to bed soon,” Dave pouted, his eyes half open as he sleepily rubbed them.

You glanced down at the time and realized it was nearly 3am. “I’m sorry, I must’ve lost track of time.”

“What are you working on?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch and reaching for your iPad.

“Just a couple of designs ideas,” you said, before reluctantly handing it over and warning him that you still needed to tweak a few things.

You nervously chewed on your bottom lip as he scrolled through your art, your eyes flickering between the screen and his face. “You obviously don’t have to release anything I came up, but I had a few ideas on how to rebrand yourself, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

“My girl is insanely talented,” David grinned, leaning over and kissing your neck.

“Tell me more,” you insisted.

“She’s also insanely hot,” he whispered, his hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine. “And I think she should work for me,” he added, pulling you on to his lap.

“Oh really?” you giggled, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and kissing him. His hands gripped your hips and he pulled you into him.

“I’m serious,” David said, ruining the moment. You pulled away from him, not sure what to say. “You’re talented, babe. And your designs are good. I want to release them and I want you to help with future designs,” he explained.

“David,” you sighed. “I appreciate the offer and I’m more than happy to help when you need me, but I just want to be your girlfriend, not your designer.”

“Are you sure? I pay really well.”

“I thought you said you don’t mix business with pleasure,” you teased, kissing his jawline.

#david dobrik #david x reader #david dobrik fluff #david dobrik fanfiction #davids vlogs #david dobrik fanfic #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik one shot #david dobrik blurb #david dobrik fic #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik x you

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libraryofloveletters · 4 years ago

Text

Neighbours

Derek Morgan x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, cursing, kissing, mentions of cheating, death of a parent, alcohol.

Category: Mix of angst and fluff

Word Count: 4k

Author's Note: Idea came from @m0rcia‘s garvez idea from the Hotchner fam au :)

-----

During High School

The boy next door.

Oh how you hated him, something about him just irritated you. Tall, dark and annoying is what he was, there was no other way to put it. It wasn’t always like that though, truthfully you and Derek had gotten along rather well as children.

Things started to change around the start of high school, you didn't hang out as much and you had both gotten your own friend groups. His focus was on football and yours was on school. The two of you used to spend hours upon hours outside throwing around that stupid football of his. You’d both go home covered in mud and grass stains but you didn’t have the same desire to be tackled into the mud as you did when you were younger.

Senior year was coming to an end, everyone had picked a path for their life and you were, well, stuck. You had no clue what you wanted to do or where to go from there. The whole neighbourhood was gushing about Derek, the school’s star football player and his plans to go to Northwestern with his football scholarship. Of course your parents also knew all about Derek and his scholarship, meaning that you got compared to him every single night until you figured out what you were doing with your life.

Graduation day was absolute hell. It was hot and you were uncomfortable in the heels your mother forced you to wear. You sat in the smouldering heat with all of your classmates, listening as your wretched principal spoke.

Clearly, you loved high school.

It came the time to throw the caps, because your school did things like that. You un-energetically threw your cap in the air, watching as it hit the floor. Something hit your back as you bent to pick up your cap. Turning around, you were met with none other than Derek Morgan himself.

“Sorry y/n”

“Watch where the fuck you throw shit”

“Okay mama, relax with the attitude” he squeezed your shoulder, “I’m sorry”

“Are you though?” you rolled your eyes and pushed his hand off your shoulder.

“I am s-”

“Save it” you shake your head as you walk the other way. He didn’t say anything to you again after that day.

The night before he left, his mom threw a little party for him. It started as a little party and ended with the whole graduating class in Fran’s backyard. You had gone over with your parents, but you didn’t speak to Derek. You said hello to Fran and his sisters, and a few friends you saw at the party. Your parents left early and you stuck around to hang out with some friends.

Around 3am, you decided it was time to head home. It was only Derek with a few of his guys and their girlfriends hanging around, your friends had just left. Fran was in the kitchen trying to clean up the house, you stepped in and knocked on the wall.

“Need some help Mrs. Morgan ?”

“Oh sweetie, call me Fran and I'm alright. Why don’t you head home ?”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind. If it’s just the kitchen, I can finish up and you can go to bed ?”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked before setting the garbage bag down.

“Yeah, I’ve got it. Get some rest” you smiled back.

She kissed your cheek before heading to her bedroom. You liked Fran, she was always nice to you and checked up on you, even if you and Derek stopped talking.

The backdoor clicked shut while you were washing the dishes. “Hey, I didn't realize you were still here” Derek spoke quietly, “where’s mom?” he asked you. “In bed, I told her I'd finish cleaning up” you told him, not turning around.

“Thanks, I can take over if you wanna get home” he mumbled with his mouth full. You glance over your shoulder to see Derek practically inhaling a slice of pizza.

“You still don't chew?” you asked him, shutting off the sink and wiping your hands off.

“What’s that supposed to mean ?” he said, his brows furrowed and his mouth full. You gave him a small smile and shook your head.

“You actually smile?” Derek asked you, a look of genuine amazement on his face.

“Shut up” you picked up a slice of pizza and hopped up onto the counter. Derek stood beside you, leaning against the counter. The only thing between you and him was the empty box of pizza. The two of you ate in silence, no tension, no anger, just there in the moment.

Derek looked over at you, “what happened to us?” he questioned you.

“What do you mean?” you hopped off the counter.

“You used to say we’d be in each other’s lives forever when we were younger” he watched as you moved about the kitchen.

“I’m still here Derek” you told him.

“But you’re not though” he uttered, looking at you.

“It’s just different now” you picked up the empty box and threw it out.

“How? I’m still me and you’re still you” He grabbed your hand.

You scoffed and shook your head, “expect you’re not just you anymore. You’re the popular football player that everyone loves and I'm just.. me”

He looked at you, he looked sad. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “Don’t do that. Don’t say it’s not true, because we both know it’s true.” Derek didn't say anything to you, he pulled you closer to him. You were now standing in front of him, he was still against the counter.

“Y/n, you’ll always be important to me, you know that right ? I know we drifted, a lot more than I’d like to admit but I still care about you, I still check on you” his hand cradled your face, you were looking up at him.

“Really ?” you asked him quietly, so quietly he almost didn't hear you. He nodded and leaned towards you. You leaned in too, his lips inches away from yours.

“Can I?” he whispered, you nodded. His lips were on yours, your arms were over his shoulder, one of your hands resting on the back on his neck. Derek’s hand was still on your cheek and the other one on your waist.

If it wasn't for his sister coming down and catching the two of you, it would have gone on a lot long. “Ahem” she cleared her throat, you and Derek pulled away from each other and turned towards her.

“Hey you two” she had a smug smile on her face.

“Hi.. uh I should get home” you said quietly before heading towards the door.

“Let me walk you home” Derek followed you to the door, you shook your head. “I’m fine. Goodnight you guys, tell Fran I say thank you for having us over” you slide open the backdoor and step out.

The early morning breeze was chill but yet warm. It was starting to change to autumn weather, you walked across the street, the wind blowing the leaves down the street. You sat on your front porch when you got home, your mom stepped out.

“Are you now getting home?” she walked past you to the car.

“Yeah, I stayed back to help Fran tidy up. Where are you going ?” you asked

“Work, there was an emergency” she told you as she got in the car, you knew she was lying to you. Sometimes she forgot you weren’t a kid anymore, you knew she was cheating on your dad. She wasn’t very good at hiding it, but you had the things on your mind, like your kiss with Derek.

He was leaving for college in less than 12 hours, it made no sense to start something with him. You sat on your porch for the rest of the day, heading in to use the bathroom and get something to eat.

You watched the sun rise, felt the temperature change, watched Derek pack his boxes into the car, saw his goodbye to his sisters and his mother. He looked across the street, he looked at you before getting in his car. He didn't smile, he didn't come say anything.

He just left.

15 years later

You found yourself, once again, on your front pouch watching Derek. Only this time, he was unpacking. Fran had passed away last week, it was a heart attack. No one could have known but that didn't make it hurt any less.

You had seen him at the funeral, you didn’t say anything to him but he saw you. He gave you a small smile and you gave him one back. You hadn't seen him since your kiss 15 years ago.

He stepped into the house and shut the door, you headed inside too. Your house was just as empty as his. Your parents had moved to the Bahamas in an attempt to save their marriage, leaving you with the house. You took the year after high school to work before finally settling on teaching as a career. You taught at your local high school with the same horrible staff and wretched principal that you hated all those years ago. You understood how the kids felt, it wasn't hard to connect with them.

Settling in on your couch with a bottle of wine and Netflix, the doorbell rang. “Who is it?” you called out, not wanting to get up but there was no answer. The doorbell rang again, “who’s there?” you shouted, thinking that whoever was at the door didn't hear you the first time, but again there was no answer. The bell rang a 3rd time, “fuck hold on! I'm coming” you groaned as you walked to the door. You pulled the door open,

“Are you deaf? you didn't hear me shouti-” Derek stood at your front door. “Oh, hi” you looked at him, he looked the same, only slightly older, more mature. “Hey, can I come in?” he asked, you nodded before stepping aside and letting him in.

You really had debated if you should let him in, but you couldn’t turn him away, especially not now, not after what he had just gone through.

He looked around as he followed you back to the living room. “House looks different” he took a seat on one end of the couch, “yeah, remodelled after they left” you sat at the other. Derek looked at you with a confused expression on his face, “left?” “they went to the Bahamas to try and save their marriage but I doubt that’ll work” you took a sip of your wine. You leaned the bottle in his direction, he took the bottle from you and took a sip.

“No glasses ?” he chuckled, leaning back into the cushions.

“Didn’t want to wash them afterwards” you turned the grinch back on. Derek laughed, you looked over at him, “what ?” “you still watch this shit?” “hey! the grinch is my favourite, don't start with me Morgan” he rolled his eyes and settled back into his spot.

15 minutes later, he rolled over onto his stomach and sprawled himself over your couch. “I'm hungry, what do you have to eat ?” he looked at you, “order a pizza” you mumbled, your eyes still on the tv.

Half an hour later, a weight lifts off the house and your front door opens. Derek returns to the couch with a box of pizza. You watched as he set the box down and opened it, he looked over at you.

“It’s rude to stare” he smiled and you shook your head “don't flatter yourself”

He picked up a piece and practically inhaled it. “Seriously dude, would it kill you to chew ?” you watched him as his face changed into confusion.

“Okay, I need to know what you mean by that! I've been hearing it my whole life” he pouted. You let out a loud laugh, “you never chew, you just inhale your food” you told him, his mouth making an O shape.

Once again, you could yourself in the company of Derek Morgan, in the middle of the night, eating pizza, in silence. Shifting positions on the couch, you turned to him, “I'm really sorry about Fran, she was a wonderful woman” you spoke quietly, unsure if you regretted what you just said. He nodded, “she was, wasn’t she?” he gave you a small smile.

“I saw your sisters when at the service, they didn’t come help you pack up ?”

“They’ve got their lives, work and their families. I told them I'd handle it”

“Hm, you’re not busy with work ? What happened to Mister Big Shot that went to Northwestern?” you joked, he chuckled.

“Well, Mister Big Shot that went to Northwestern” he mocked, “got a law degree and works for the FBI now” he admitted to you proudly.

“What the hell, are you serious ?” you were genuinely shocked, he nodded. If someone told you that Derek went on to be a football player, you’d believe them with no questions asked, but Derek, as a FBI agent, was something you never ever thought would happen.

“The same Derek that rolled around in mud his entire childhood and was in trouble all the time, works for the fricking FBI ?” you laughed, “yup, that would be the one and I wasn't always in trouble!”

The two you ended up sitting on the couch till about 3 am. “Can I ask you something ?” Derek turned to you, “of course” you looked over at him.

“What happened to us? I want the truth. We’ve both grown up, the least we can do is talk about it.”

“I don’t know, we just drifted.” you looked at the wall, you couldn’t bare to look at Derek right now. His hand rested on yours, “y/n, c’mon, the truth.”

“We just didn't fit into each other’s lives anymore. You went from Derek that would play dolls with me to Derek that was the popular football player. All the girls loved you, they practically swooned over you in the hallways, the guys were constantly talking about you and your games. I didn't want that attention. I just wanted you as you, not everything that came with it. The only way to let you go was to push you away I guess” you admitted to him, he sighed.

“See, if you had told me that-” you cut him off, “what ? you would have ignored all the girls ? stopped being the star of the football team ? don’t lie to yourself Derek. We both knew you loved it, it’s who you are. You would have never given that up, especially not for me.” you looked over at him, his eyes were on you. He looked at you like he had never seen you before, like you were this fascinating thing that deserved all of his attention.

“That moment we had in the kitchen that night, that meant nothing ?” he moved closer to you. “Of course it meant something but you didn’t even say goodbye. You just upped and left, Derek. All the times you came home to visit, you didn’t even say hello”

“y/n, I tried. I came every time I came home. That day, I didn’t say goodbye because I thought I had upset you with the kiss, but I came every time I came home, to see you and try and talk. Your mom always said you weren’t home and she’d tell you.”

“What? She never told me anything”

“Well there you go. I tried, I promise you I did.”

The two of you sat there, the tension was so thick you couldn't cut it with a knife. “Y/n” he called for you, you were too deep in your thoughts to hear him. “y/n” he called out again, his finger pulls your chin towards him.

“Hm?”

“You know I care about you, right ? I never stopped”

“Okay” you mumbled and got up.

“That’s it? We’re not going to talk about it ?” Derek stood up

You walked into the kitchen, ignoring Derek and his questions. You leaned forward on the counter, your hands gripping the edge to try and ground yourself.

Why hadn’t she told me he came ? He just wanted to talk, what’s her problem ?

“Y/n, come on. Can we talk?” Derek rested his hand on your shoulder, you shrugged your shoulder and pushed his hand off. “Get out” you mumbled, “what ?” his eyes burning into your back. “Get. Out.” you said a little louder, “Why ? I just want to ta-” you turned around, you grabbed Derek’s hand and pulled him out of the kitchen and to the front door. “Out” you opened the door,

“I'm so confused, why?”

“Derek, shut up and get out!”

You pushed him out of the door, he stood there looking back at you with a look of shock and confusion on his face. You slammed the door shut before heading to the bedroom to find our phone, expect it wasn't there. It felt as if you tore apart the entire house looking for it. When you found it, you dialled the one person you knew could answer your questions.

“Hello ?” She answered

“Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me that Derek came to see me ?! and not just once, BUT EVERY TIME!!” you yelled into the phone

“Honey, calm down” your mother said to you.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! you lied to me for 15 years, you watched me sulk for 2 whole years about Derek kissing me and just leaving when you knew he had come to talk to me!”

“He’s no good for you” she said as if that was a fact.

“What the hell does that mean? Not like you’d know what was good for me anyways. You don't care about anyone but yourself” you just hung up on her, you weren't in the mood to deal with her and her nonsense.

You paced back and forth through the whole house for a few hours. You had downed an entire bottle of wine while you paced, you knew what you needed to do.

Come on, it’s just Derek.

You headed out of the house and across the street.

God, what if he hates me now ?

You walked back towards your house.

Oh, he won't hate me.

You headed back to his house.

This is stupid.

You turned around to walk back to your house when you heard his voice.

“Are you gonna stand out here all night like a mad woman ?” he leaned against the door frame. You walked up to him, he stood there looking at you. “I’m sorry I kicked you out earlier.. I just needed a minute to process things” you admitted, Derek chuckled. “Considering that it's 4am, I'd say you had more than a minute to process. I’m making tea, want some?” he asked you, you nodded, “tea sounds good” you walked in.

The house hadn't changed, expect for the addition of a few new picture frames. There were some of his sisters and him from what looks like his college graduation, some of his sisters and their families and the one that stood out to you was of Derek, Fran and some little skinny white boy. You picked up the frame and turned to Derek.

“Come all this way and flirt with me but you have a boyfriend ?” you asked, holding back a laugh.

“Haha, very funny. That’s Spencer Reid, we work together”

“He works for the FBI ? He looked like a baby” you laughed and set down the frame.

“He’s grown a lot since then” Derek laughed and headed to the kitchen, you followed him. “God, it felt like just yesterday we were running around here with Fran cooking and yelling at us” you said, hopping up on the counter. “Yeah, we had some good times” Derek smiled as he handed you a mug of tea.

The two of you drank your tea quietly, you broke the silence.

“I talked to my mom” you looked over at Derek, he turned to face you.

“Oh yeah? What’d she say ?”

“Nothing important, just tried to lie to me yet again”

“About ?”

“Apparently you’re ‘no good for me’ whatever that means” you roll your eyes, Derek shifts closer to you and he changes the topic.

“You’re a teacher now ?”

“I am” you smiled, “ I don’t remember telling you that though, you work your FBI magic on me?” you chuckled, he smiled at you.

“Mom told me, actually” your head tilted to the side, he realized you were confused.

“I feel weird admitting this to you, but she used to tell me what you were up too. She said she came to your graduation too” he fidgeted with his fingers.

You smiled to yourself at the memory of Fran at your graduation. Your parents had already moved away and you didn't have anyone, you mentioned it to Fran as a by-the-way thing and she showed up.

“She did, but you’ve been keeping tabs on me or everyone you graduated with?”

“Just the ones I've made out with” he had a smirk on that annoying face of his

“Oh so half of the graduating class?” you held back a laugh. A loud “hey!” and a light smack to the arm was what that comment got you. Derek picked up the empty mugs and put them in the sink, on his way back to his spot beside you, you stretched your legs out, one was on each side of him.

“What’s the plan here Ms. L/N?”

“Not sure Mr. Morgan”

“Actually, it's Agent Morgan to you” he stated causing you to roll your eyes. His hands rested on your thighs, “just two friends, chilling in a kitchen. Maybe they might kiss” you mumbled looking at him, he looked back at you with a smile on his face.

“Yeah they might”

“Exact- wait what ?”

His hand cradled your face, your lips inches apart. “Can I ?” “Stop talking and kiss me alrea-” His lips on yours ended your sentence. Your heart pounded in your chest, you could only focus on how Derek’s lips felt against yours. You had been dreaming for another moment like this since your last kiss with him, it felt as if time stopped and it was only the two of you while the world melted away.

Derek’s eyes had opened, taking the beautiful women in front of him. Taking in the moment just to make sure he wasn’t imagining what he had dreamt of the last 15 years and for the first time in those 15 years, he didn't feel angry or sad when he looked at you, he saw the one he had been waiting for.

It felt like forever before either of you pulled away for a breath. Your hands clung onto Derek’s shirt like he’d disappear if you let go, his hands found their way to the back of your neck, toying with the hair at the nape of your neck. The two of you, wrapped up in each other, smiling at one another like children.

“Not so bad huh ?”

“Not so bad Morgan”

----

Taglist: @aaronhotchnerr @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @tclaerh @luke-alvez @iconicc @lieberhers @pumpkin-reads @ssa-holmes @katexrichardson @sluttytears

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fredweesleyismyslut · 4 years ago

Text

Why Can’t I Have Both? Spencer Reid x reader

A/N: I got bored and instead of doing Spanish homework guess what I’m doing? You guessed it writing fanfic about Spencer Reid because he’s my baby and I literally love him. Anyways, let me stop fangirling so you can enjoy. Also, whoever’s reading this I love you and I hope you have a great day/night whatever the heck it is just know that it’s alright and it’ll be fine. Now, bye because I seriously have to sleep so I can make my friend his birthday present.

You and the team had recently gotten back from a job as you set you things down at your desk. As you were writing your paperwork, you noticed a couple of the early goers leaving Rossi and Spencer, currently your ex-boyfriend whom you were still friends with and still madly in love with. Then, left Garcia, Emily, and JJ as they waved bye to you. Last to leave was Derek who usually finished way after you, “Wow, you got somewhere to be, Derek? You finished up so quickly I almost thought we had an imposter. Give us back our chocolate thunderrrrr!” You jokingly shouted as you slapped his shoulder as he responded, “Yeah, Yeah. Don’t get used to it, I’m meeting up with a couple of friends tonight.” Nodding you waved your hand to him before going back to your paperwork. Looking at the time, you stretched, joints popping as the air-popped from them. Yawning you started to put things up, deciding that you would just finish it up in the morning and have JJ or Emily help you if needed. Leaving the work you waved at a couple of the people before getting onto the elevator as your phone dinged, Hey, you finished yet? The text read, from JJ, replying back you chuckled to yourself, Yeah, I finished most of it but I’m beat for tonight. Why? The reply came back almost instantaneously, Nothing just curious… You read it again, “What does she mean?” you said to yourself out loud, before forgetting about it moments later as you got into your car to head home. Once at your apartment, you pulled your keys out, unlocking the door as you heard the satisfying click, ready to toss everything onto the floor and pass out. As the door opened, the lights turned on as you heard a simultaneous, “SURPRISE!” Looking up, as you finally got over your shock you saw your team members, all with party hats on and a cake held by Penelope in the middle, as confetti fell in front of you. Scanning the room you saw Spencer, as tears flooded your eyes. Running out you ran to the elevator, trying to get the thing to hurry up.

As the elevator doors opened you heard footsteps behind you as the door to your apartment closed. “Sorry, maybe we shouldn’t have done that, today’s case was pretty rough,” said Spencer’s all too familiar voice. A hand touched your shoulder as you quickly wiped your oncoming tears, “It’s not that…” you responded, voice raspy from trying to hold the tears and emotion that kept welling up, “I just wanted to have a quiet birthday this year...especially after we-we broke up.” Looking up at him, your voice broke as you continued, shoulders shaking, “I-I can’t do this anymore Spence.” His face contorted with confusion, “Do what?” He fumbled with his hands slightly, clearly not sure what to do with them and how to comfort you. “I still love you, you idiot. I honestly don’t know how someone so smart can be so stupid sometimes.” you laughed at yourself a little as you stared at the ground, picking at the skin of your nails, “I’m trying so, so hard to keep my feelings in check so you don’t feel uncomfortable and when you do things like this..” you waved your hands around, “it makes it so much harder to not love you. Now each year for my birthday, all I’ll think about is this Spence, and you won’t be there.” Finally cracking under the pressure you choked back a sob as the tears came rolling down your cheeks. You watched as Spencer’s shoes came into view of your blurry vision, his finger swiped under your eye as he pulled you closer, “I will be here, y/n. We all will. We love you...I love you, y/n.” He gently pulled your chin up to face his deep gaze, full of worry, “I’ll always be here for you. I just...You know why we broke up, y/n.” his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, “I don’t want to hold you back. You want to work somewhere else and I don’t want to be the reason you stay at the BAU and not reach your dreams.” Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes as he watched you sob harder, “But why can’t I have both, Spence? I don’t want the job if it means I can’t be happy with you.” You choked as you buried your face in his chest, “You think that you’re doing this because you care for me but in reality you just don’t want me to get hurt, worrying about you every night thinking maybe an unsub finally caught up to you guys.” You hit his chest softly, “In reality, you’re just selfish, Spencer. I don’t care if I have to stay up till 3am every night if it means I can sleep in the same bed as you as you tell me random things. I don’t care about anything as long as it means I can hear your voice, your laugh, or see the face you make when you’re thinking about something. As long as I can be with you every living moment, then I don’t care, Spence because I’m seriously in love with you.” His grip tightened on your shoulders as the tears fell from his cheeks, he opened his mouth to say something but words didn’t come out as he looked you in the eyes and leaned closer, breath tickling your cheeks as he softly kissed your lips. His lips were slightly chapped as they usually were because chapstick was the last thing on his mind and you usually reminded him. His eyelashes fluttered as he met your gaze, “I-I love you, y/n y/l/n. I’m seriously, deeply in love with you, and every moment I get to breathe in the same space as you is like heaven to me.” His hand grazed your cheek as his thumb and forefinger pulled your chin up, “If you would, then I’d like to formally request to be your boyfriend, y/n.” You smiled softly, as you kissed his cheek, “If that’s the case then you’ll have to give me a written request in MLA font with an intro and conclusion, Spence. I’m going to need a whole ass contract so you don’t try to run away from me for my own good.” He laughed as you linked your arm in his, “Let’s go enjoy my birthday.”

Stopping at the door you looked at him, “Pull some shit like breaking up with me to not hold me back again and I’ll formally kick your ass, got it?” He nodded, kissing your forehead, promising “Never again.” As you walked in “Whoo” ing sounds insured as Penelope shouted out, “Our favorite work couple is back together! Guys, I’m so happy for you.” “You guys heard everything?” you asked, as Emily came around with slices of cake, “Well...most of it if you mean from the part where you confessed your undying love for boy wonder here and till you walked in...then, yes we heard everything.” You laughed at Penelope’s response as the team crowded around, all giving you hugs and birthday wishes. “You really need to keep that one, Spencer, she’s a keeper,” said David, to Spencer, before walking up to you and giving you a hug as well. The night couldn’t have gotten any better as you chatted with your friends and what do you know, Spencer actually did write a 1,000-word essay with an intro and conclusion formally asking you to dinner that weekend, wouldn’t expect anything less from the boy genius.

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awanderingdeal · 4 years ago

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Summer camp AU - Chapter 2 - Sirius

Hello, hello, welcome back to Gryffindor. This chapter finds us with Sirius. This one is a bit angsty again, but there’s also lots of happy points. I promise we will have some fun camp type stuff next chapter!

CW: Sirius does misgender Reg for most of this chapter in his internal monologue as he does not know that Regulus has changed his pronouns. It is not intentional and Sirius does switch pronouns both verbally and mentally as soon as he is aware. Just in case that makes anybody uncomfy.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful betas for catching all my 3am mistakes (and also, just my complete inability to grammar).

And finally, thank you to @lumosinlove for the creation of the sweater weather universe. It honestly is a light in my life.

Fic Rating: T

For previous and future chapters see masterlist

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Sirius was pulled from the depth of his thoughts by two short vibrations pulsing through his hands. He glanced down at his phone and felt the corner of his mouth pull up at the name, Mon Loup. Remus was always checking up on him.

Are you okay? Is he there?

Sirius didn’t know how to answer the first question. He didn’t know how he was feeling. The last thing he had expected when they had gotten in the car that morning was to be seeing his brother's name next to his on the room allocations. His mind had spun through a rollercoaster of emotions: anger, guilt, joy, anger, confusion. Luckily, Remus had been there to notice the impending meltdown and had wrapped his arms around him and told him that it was going to be fine. And somehow Sirius had believed him.

He took a minute to compose his reply, knowing that trying to lie to Remus about his mental state was futile.

I’m...coping. No, he’s not. No bags either.

Sirius wished that Remus could be here with him. However, his boyfriend had just graduated with his BSN and was now a paid member of staff on the nursing team. Along with the extra responsibility came his own cabin. Sirius had insisted he went and settled in there. His phone buzzed again.

I told you, he’s probably just as worried about seeing you. He’s here, isn’t he? He’s more than just a product of your parents.

Sirius hated when Remus was logical like that. He was right though, something must have changed. There was no way that his biological parents would approve of Regulus’ coming here. “Merde!” Sirius groaned, flopping backwards onto the bed. He’d been through this a thousand times with his therapist. He’d tried to take Regulus with him. Regulus hadn’t wanted to come. Besides, he was still a minor and there was no way he could have gotten the evidence to get Regulus out of there legally. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn't his fault.

It’s not your fault, baby. You know that.

How did Remus always know? Sirius glanced at the time on his phone, 12.05. He worried about where Regulus was and if he wasn’t staying in this cabin, then had he found somewhere else to sleep? The big brother in him would never completely go. The backpack on the floor caught his eye. I might as well start unpacking, Sirius thought.

The time passed quickly and soon the alarm that he'd set for 12.50 was sounding. He had managed to get all of his clothes into the drawers under the bed and pinned the photo of him and Remus to the wall. He’d tucked his drawing pad under the pillow. There was only one thing missing.

Sirius took a deep breath, grabbing his smaller daypack and headed back to the main stage where they had been gathered before Dumo had dismissed them all. He was scanning the slowly forming crowd for the familiar features of his brother when a body barrelled into his back.

“Dude! I just saw your twin, I swear.”

The voice belonged to James Potter. They had only met last year - at this very camp - but Sirius already felt like he had known him a lifetime.

“Jeez, Potter. My ears,” Sirius moaned, shoving his friend lightly. “Attends...What did you just say?”

“Jeez,” James mocked Sirius’ acquisition of his boyfriend’s mannerisms. “There’s somebody here who looks exactly like you.”

“Regulus.” Sirius gasped, his eyes darting over the crowd again.

“Who’s Reg-” James started and then his hand was hitting Sirius’ arm as realisation dawned on him. “Your brother.”

Sirius could only give a slow nod.

“Do you need...I can tell him to stay away from you if you want?” James’ eyebrows knitted into a frown.

This time Sirus shook his head quickly, “Non. No, I want to see him. I need to see him.” Sirius hadn’t even realised himself that was what he wanted until that moment.

“Oh,” James said and turned abruptly to face the ever growing group of people. “He was just there, I swear. We can go find him.”

Sirius opened his mouth to reply when Dumo’s voice cut through the noise of the crowd, “Hello everyone, thank you for being back on time.”

James gave a distressed noise and Sirius squeezed his arm reassuringly. He loved that his friend hadn’t even questioned his desire to find Regulus. Sirius had wanted something and James was ready to make it happen.

Sirius tuned back into Dumo’s instructions, “ - lunch until 14.00 and then we will begin with some icebreakers. Finally, this evening we will have an in depth tour of the camp followed by a game of capture the flag. Only so that you know how to play for when the campers come, of course. We won’t have a campfire tonight, I know many of you have travelled from afar and will want to get to bed early. But be prepared because I want all of you ready with your singing voices, tomorrow.”

James had apparently forgotten about his troubles because he was excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Come on,” Sirius said, “Let’s go and eat. It’s not as if Regulus is going anywhere.”

The lunch hall was a chaos of noise and Sirius allowed himself to be swept up in it. The empty table that they found was soon filled. Lily arrived first pressing a kiss first to James' forehead and then Sirius'.

"Lily! I missed you so much. How did you find us?" James grinned.

Lily rolled her eyes, "darling, it has only been two hours since I last saw you. And how many other people have tie dyed their t-shirts?"

James looked down at the purple, black and white swirls on his t-shirt proudly, causing Sirius to smile fondly.

“Who are you sharing your cabin with?” Sirius asked, using his hands to compress the monstrosity of a sandwich that he had created before dipping it into his chicken soup.

“That is so gross,” Lily grimaced at the action. “Now your lettuce is all soggy. And to answer your question, it’s Natalie. You know, Darcy. Tall, blonde, formidable. She’ll be over in a minute. Think she was just waiting for her boyfriend.”

As if on cue, Natalie appeared, placing her tray down next to Lily before rounding the table and wrapping her arms around Sirius and kissing his earlobe. He would have been startled had it been anybody else but he regularly received semi-threatening texts from her telling him to have Remus check his voicemails. “That is from your boyfriend. He said he misses you. Which is gross but I was bribed with cake.” Natalie said, gesturing to the two slices of cake on her tray.

“Who’s the rookie?” James asked through a mouthful of food, looking at the red headed boy who had just sat down next to Kasey, Natalie’s boyfriend.

The boy waved casually at the table, seeming very relaxed for a new counsellor, “I’m Alex. And technically, I’m not a rookie. Done a few camps down in Tampa, but I thought I’d join my brother, Finn, here at Queer camp this summer.”

“Oh, I think I sa-" James began, but was interrupted by Lily’s squeal of excitement.

"Marl! Dory!" Lily called across the hall attracting the attention of two girls. They made their way over seeing Lily’s wave, followed closely by two other counsellors.

"Everybody, this is Marlene and her girlfriend, Dorcas. Marl was my little sister at college." Lily introduced them to the table.

They both flashed a smile and Marlene titled her head towards the two timid looking boys behind them, "We said Ollie and Timmy here could sit with us. It’s their first year too."

They all found a seat and the usual round of questions began. Despite Sirius' attempts to listen to where everybody was working in the camp, his mind was drifting to thoughts of his brother.

He felt James' hand gently touch his wrist and when Sirius turned to look at him, James mouthed, " You okay?"

Sirius nodded, "I'm fine." He realised that he had reached the end of his soup and the fact he was now trying to spoon air into his mouth was probably what had attracted James' concern. "Oh. In my own world, I guess," he said quietly.

Sirius pulled himself upright, "I'm just going to get a fork," he added more loudly and climbed off the bench. He could have eaten the cake with a spoon, but he wanted a minute to text Remus without being chirped by his friends. Crossing the busy hall with his head down was always going to be a mistake and he found himself colliding with another body as he approached the cutlery trays.

“I’m so sorry!” Sirius apologised, cringing at the sensation of warm soup seeping through his t-shirt. “I was just -” he started, but as he lifted his head he was met with hauntingly familiar grey eyes.

“Reggie,” Sirius breathed, the nickname slipping out of his mouth.

He received no reply.

“Regulus? Are you okay?” a tall blond boy that Sirius didn’t recognise asked.

Regulus didn’t get to answer this time even if he had wanted to as an older man, maybe in his 40’s appeared and said gruffly, “Is all alright here?”

“Yes, yes, we are fine thank you,” Sirius answered. “It was my fault, I wasn’t looking.”

“Be more careful, Black,” the man said. Sirius managed to pull his eyes away from his brother to look at the name tag. Sergei.

“Be nice to the kids please, Sergei,” Dumo spoke lightly, a small smile resting on his lips. Sirius swore that the man had appeared out of nowhere.

“You always play favourites, Dumasha,” Sergei grumbled. “He is making a mess of my -”

“Could I just talk to my brother, please!” Sirius snapped.

“Not your brother,” Regulus said, the sound barely audible.

“Reggie, please. Just let me...” Sirius began. He just wanted a chance to explain how he tried to take Regulus with him, but it hadn’t been possible. To explain that Sirius had needed to get free himself before he could help Regulus and then by the time he was set up, Regulus had been the one to reject him.

“I don’t think they are objecting to talking to you,” the blond boy interrupted. “I think they mean that they are your sibling. Not your brother. Is that correct, Reg?”

Regulus nodded slowly, fingers clenched tightly around the empty tray in his hands.

“Not my bro-” Sirius’s eyes caught the nametag clipped to Regulus’ t-shirt. He hadn’t looked at it before. They/Them. “Oh. Ohh. I’m sorry, Reggie. I didn’t mean to…”

Regulus cut him off. “It’s okay, you didn’t know,” they said.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Sirius sighed. “Look, Regulus. Could we talk? Preferably without all these other people?” he asked, his voice hopeful. Sirius turned his gaze to the boy that he didn't recognize, “Who are you anyway?”

“Leo Knut. Regulus’ roommate. I’ll leave you two to talk if that is what Regulus wants?”

Sirius wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch the guy or hug him for protecting his sibling.

Regulus gave another nod, more sure than the one they gave earlier. “Go and eat, Leo. Sirius and I should talk. It was always going to have to happen at some point if I stay, eh?”

Sirius took the opportunity to look at Regulus properly. They looked almost identical to when Sirius had last seen them. Only taller. And they held themselves differently. Somehow it was meekier and yet more sure of themselves. Just as Sirius was about to spiral into a mess of thoughts about what he’d left Regulus to face by themself, Dumo cleared his throat.

“Okay, me and Sergei will clean up this mess. Sirius, I think you should get a clean t-shirt. Regulus, go and make yourself another sandwich. Then we’ll find you somewhere quiet to talk.”

Regulus smiled, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Sirius let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding, “Yeah, me too.”

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sadaboutniall · 4 years ago

Photo

Without Fear

masterlist | tag | wattpad

Chapter One. January.

remember that first laugh? all it changed once I had that // like a hurricane, but I don't care where I land - rome, dermot kennedy

The whole thing had started out as a joke. Or maybe a pipe dream. Or maybe a massive mental breakdown and a poorly thought-through trip to the passport office for a rush renewal and a visa application.

No matter how it had started, Luna hadn’t actually thought it would pan out. Two and a half months ago, standing in her parents’ kitchen in New York, reading the lawyer’s letter, it had been a shiny, exciting, half-baked idea—an escape she could cling to while everything else was going to shit. It hadn’t been a reality.

It was hardly a reality even as it began to happen: Luna, packing her bags on a Friday night, deciding which pictures of her ex to keep and which to toss; Luna’s dad, hoisting her bags into the trunk of the car for her; Luna’s mom, petting her hair as she hugged her goodbye at the airport.

And it wasn’t real when she got to Inis Mór either: her snug little apartment above the coffee shop, the smattering of mismatched furniture that her Great Aunt Niamh had left behind, Ruairí, the black cat her new neighbor had been feeding, the mess of her suitcases, exploding on the floor, markedly different to the seemingly ancient chairs and quilts and sweaters that Niamh left for her.

Or, just left. It’s been hard for Luna to tell what’s for her and what isn’t.

And even now, nearly a month into living here and it only half feels real, the way she gets up every morning and putters down to the shop to open up, the cat following behind her, meowing for breakfast and Siobhan, the baker, already well on her way to done with the morning’s pastries, the smell of cinnamon and dough and vanilla and the cold air outside wafting through the shop to wake Luna up sweetly; the way old Mr. Whelan is always her first customer, never deviates from his order of a black coffee and a croissant, toasted; the rush of cold air every time someone opens the door, feeling like it’s flaying the shop open, sending napkins fluttering to the floor, causing Ruairí to hiss in protest and curl up closer to the fireplace. There’s nothing real in the way the sun sets at 4pm these days, quick as a wink over the hill outside the window, a flash of orange and purple the only reminder that day once broke in this place that always feels dark, under cover. There’s nothing real in the way Luna needn’t worry about anything here—her rent is paid and there are no deadlines anymore, no screaming bosses, no one angry with her for dropping an artist file or fucking up a coffee order. It’s not real, not even when she calls home and talks to her parents, when they tell her about her brother Sam’s new PhD research and his girlfriend Mary’s trip to Honduras. It’s not real, any of it. And it works. It’s fine. And so is Luna.

It’s hardly real on a Monday night at the end of January, either, after Siobhan has already left for the day and Luna is quietly closing up, tucking mugs into cabinets and dropping bits of pastry on the floor for the cat. She’s not thinking about much of anything—in the month she’s been here, Lu’s found the very start and very end of her days to be the most relaxing, the way she can clear up the shop or fire up the coffee maker without having to talk to anyone, think about anything. It’s so markedly different from what feels like a lifetime ago: bustling into the office at 8:30 and still feeling like she was late, a tray of coffees balanced in one hand, someone’s dry cleaning in the other, 12 voicemails already waiting for her, 30 emails, more coming through as her phone vibrated in her pocketbook. This is quiet and slow: Ruairí is weaving between her legs, meowing gently when he wants more treats, and outside it’s dark and still and cold, despite it being only 7pm. Luna is tired but not wiped—a feeling she forgot existed before leaving New York—and it occurs to her that she can have a slice of cake tonight in front of the TV, and maybe a glass of wine, while watching Law and Order until she falls asleep.

She’s lost in that thought—and the already building annoyance at the fact that she knows she’ll inevitably wake up on the couch at 3am and have to stumble to bed—when the door creaks open, nighttime wind rushing in, a boy stumbling after it.

“So sorry,” Lu looks up from where she’s been wiping down the counter behind the pastry display. “I’m closing up. But I still have a few leftover slices of cake if you want—”

“Oh, erm,” the boy stills, maybe surprised, and Lu does too. He’s—well. Lu hasn’t seen anyone here who looks like him.

He’s a mess of hat hair, dark at the roots and an unnatural blonde at the tips, curling over his ears and flopping over one eyebrow. He’s bright blue eyes, wide when he looks at her, and cheeks flushed red to match the tip of his nose, and a smattering of stubble along his face, darkening in the dimple of his chin, his pink lips chapped where his tongue darts out to soothe them. He takes her breath away for half a second—or maybe that’s the rush of wind that crashed against her chest when he opened the door.

The boy is clutching a guitar by its neck, gloved hand wrapped almost reverently around it, and his white high-top sneakers are mucky where the rubber soles have been sludging through the perma-mud outside. He looks like something out of a dream, maybe, Lu’s heart catching a little in her throat.

“Hi,” he says, finally, looking just as out of sorts as Lu feels. She’s not sure if that’s good or bad, but he carries on. “I wasn’t expecting—I didn’t think you would be so… uh. American? Uh,” gently, he tucks the guitar under his arm and tugs off his navy blue gloves, the cotton pilling from wear. “I’m Niall,” he reaches out a hand. It’s cold when Lu takes it to shake, when he wraps it gently around her own. “I live Kilronan.”

“Hiya,” Lu’s voice comes out softer than she expected it to. “I’m Lu. I work here.”

“Right, right,” Niall nods, swallows thick. “You’re Niamh’s niece? I was so sorry to hear about her passing—she—”

“Great niece,” Lu rushes over Niall, exhausted, even a month later, of every introduction on this island starting with a condolence. “I actually only met her once. But it sounds like she was a force.”

“You—once?” Niall shoves his gloves into the pocket of his puffer jacket.

“Yeah,” Lu shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Was there, uh,” she doesn’t want to get rid of him, but doesn’t know where to go next. “Did you want one of those slices of cake? I’m sorry for you to come all the way from Kilronan for nothing.”

“Oh,” Niall looks like he’s only just remembered where he is. “No, I didn’t come for cake. I, uh, I have a… a question? An idea?”

Briefly, Lu worries if she should be nervous—but crime doesn’t happen here, not like this, and Lu knows the statistics when it comes to stranger attacks. Either way, Niall keeps talking before she can spiral, the words tumbling out like he knows he has to speak before he thinks better of it.

“I, uh, I was wondering if there’s any chance you were looking for someone to, like, play guitar and sing a bit? Like, live music in the shop for a couple hours a week? You don’t have to pay me or anything, ‘m not asking for that, but I could maybe leave my case open for tips? I can do covers or requests or—whatever you want, really. And I can give you my work schedule and we can work around that; I’m free on the weekends mostly, except for when I coach football, but also on weeknights if you’d prefer that and if you want to split the tips I understand, we can do that too, and also—”

“Niall,” Lu can’t take it. He’s speaking so fast it’s shuttling her toward an anxiety attack, and throwing up on the shoes of the first cute boy she’s seen in a month was not on her agenda for today. Meeting a cute boy in general was not on her agenda for today, but Lu’s been learning that things don’t tend to pan out the way she plans them. “I like the idea. That sounds cool.”

“I totally understand if—wait, really?” Niall pauses, hand halfway up to his face, like he was going to cover his mouth, or rub his eyes, or bite his nails. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open a little, like he didn’t expect it to be that easy. Like he didn’t accept Lu to be agreeable at all.

“Yeah,” Lu shrugs, then nods at the guitar still tucked under Niall’s arm, “but you’ll need to audition for me,” she bites back a cheeky smile, watches Niall do the same. “I can’t have a crap singer driving away all my customers.”

“Ah, fair play,” the left side of Niall’s mouth pulls up into a smile, and Lu pointedly ignores the kick in her chest. “What would you like to hear?”

She shrugs again, as if “casual” or “easygoing” were ever words people would’ve used to describe her back home. “Your favorite song?”

“My favorite—” Niall scoffs, but there’s no malice in it—it’s playful, inviting, fun. It makes Lu feel like he wants to keep talking to her. Like he wants her to keep winding him up. “You think I can narrow it down to one favorite song?”

“I can,” Lu smiles, soft, “I’m good at making decisions.”

“Go on, tell us then.”

“You first,” Lu gestures toward a table, the only one in the shop that isn’t rickety when there’s too much weight on it. “Then I’ll tell ya.”

Niall hums under his breath, approval, and settles himself on top of the table easily, feet perched on the chair, guitar natural in his lap. He strums once, to check that everything is in tune, and then glances up through the bit of hair that’s fallen over his eye. He’s striking—bright blue eyes, a shock of blonde at the tips of his hair, a lone dimple digging into his filled out cheeks—and Lu feels her stomach swoop and kick again. She takes a deep breath, crosses her arms over her chest. Niall sits up straight.

“Alright,” he says it so quietly that Lu thinks it might just be for him. She’s suddenly struck with the notion that she’s intruding on something, a moment between Niall and his guitar and himself that isn’t for her—that, maybe, this isn’t something a lot of people get to see.

And, if that’s true, Lu realises the second he starts strumming, it’s a damn shame.

It takes Lu a second to recognize the song, but it doesn’t even matter. With a guitar in his hand Niall is even more mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. Completely, incomprehensibly, irresistible.

And then he opens his mouth. And Lu feels sick.

It’s “With or Without You”.

But there’s none of the corniness, none of the playful groaning and eye rolling that usually accompanies a U2 cover. Instead, Lu feels frozen to her spot in the middle of the shop, Niall, seated atop the table, eyes down, an anchor in the middle of this island. His voice, lower than she expected, and raspy in all the right places, is somehow vulnerable and confident at the same time—somehow makes her want to simultaneously hold him and be held by him, to protect him and let him protect her. It’s real. It’s vulnerable. It’s terrifying. Lu doesn’t know what to do with it.

The song lasts forever and is over in an instant. Eyes closed, Niall carries out the final, desperate, confident, terrified, “I can’t live, with or without you,” as he stops playing and lets his voice take over. The whole shop shakes with it. Or maybe that’s just Lu, trembling.

His eyes don’t open for a few seconds. Lu can feel herself breathing, she can feel her heart beating, she can feel the wind, outside, throwing itself against the shop’s ancient windows. She can feel it when Niall opens his eyes.

“Was it that shite?”

Overwhelmed, Lu exhales an unstoppable, lovely laugh. Niall’s cheeks are red and his eyes are a little glassy and he runs a hand through his thick hair, his bicep flexing just a millimeter. Lu already knows there’s no way this can last.

“Terrible,” she smiles. “Worst I’ve ever heard. When can you start?”

####

They work out the schedule together, leaning over the only good table, comparing planners. Lu still keeps her old Moleskin, dark purple, embossed with her college seal and the year she graduated. She hasn’t needed it much lately—after years of her work, and eventually her social life, revolving around Google Calendar, she feels a freedom in being able to jot down appointments and approximate times in a messy journal. Niall’s got a battered leather one—doodles on the front, his name in script on the first page. He flips through it quickly, keeps it close to his chest.

He works at a local furniture and home goods boutique most days, as a design consultant, and coaches the middle school’s co-ed soccer team on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons, with games on Saturdays. Lu tells him not to overbook himself but he does it anyway, and they settle on Monday, Thursday, and Friday nights, as well as Saturday mornings, starting the next week. He says he’ll have a friend work up posters to advertise, and tries, again, to tell Lu he’ll split his tips.

At 10:30, he notices the time, his cheeks pinking up, his chapped lower lip caught between his teeth. They’d been splitting the final two slices of cake, and there’s a tiny glob of chocolate caught in the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck,” he says, looking reluctant, “I’ve got to go, I’m meant to be at work at 8 tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, God,” Lu feels a bit like she’s coming out of a daze, that feeling she gets, sometimes, when she’s been reading a book or watching a movie and then has to reimmerse herself in the real world. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“No, no,” Niall rushes, “you didn’t. I—thank you. For the chocolate cake. And the, uh, opportunity.”

“Don’t mention it.” Lu presses her lips together, resists the urge to lean forward and thumb at the chocolate on his mouth. “You’ve got, uh, a bit of chocolate,” she touches the mirroring spot on her own mouth, “right there.”

“Right,” he smiles, tongue darting out to catch it. “I won’t. Thanks.”

Lu gathers the plates and cups and totes them to the sink while Niall gets his things together. When she turns around, he’s bundled in his coat and scarf, hat pulled low over his brows, free hand shoved into the pocket of his puffer. She doesn’t know how to look away from him.

“I guess I’ll see you next week, then?” He asks, fiddling with the zipper on his puffer. He hasn’t got all the chocolate—Lu wonders what it would taste like against his lips.

“Next week,” she echoes. “Yeah.”

“Brilliant. I’ll, uh—I’m excited. Have a good week.”

Lu’s “and you” gets lost in her throat as she watches Niall head toward the door. His hand is on the knob when he turns back around.

“Wait, Lu.”

The sound of her name in his mouth makes her heart stutter. She hopes her raised brow will pass for a response.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“What?” She gets that out, at least.

“Your favorite song of all time,” Niall smiles, dimple prominent. “What is it?”

Looking back, Lu has no idea where the sudden confidence comes from. But, somehow, it does. She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not sure I want to tell you yet,” she says, kind. “I want to see if you figure it out for yourself.”

####

taglist: @missy14us @coconutdawn @ficnarry @okaaayniall @theresnooneheretosave @niallgolden @tinyfelthat @adoremp3 @thelifeofbo @crocodileniall @niallsguitarthings

Join the tag list here.

#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #without fear #eeeeek!#ok hope you like this!!#im nervous

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thosch3i · 4 years ago

Text

Xiao Yuliang Interview [Eng Trans]

[Photo: XYL’s dog]

so remember this post? yeah well i wound up doing a mostly full translation of the entire 6 minute interview on twitter. some parts are paraphrased and a few details were skipped bc he sometimes repeated himself and there were one or two details i wasn’t 100% sure of, but other than that an eng transcript of the full interview is below the cut:

1. Introduce your role in "Ultimate Note"?

XYL: In Ultimate Note I play Zhang Qiling, Xiaoge.

2. What kind of impression does this character leave in your heart?

XYL: Before, I thought he was a really strong, and then a very cool, and then a very cold/detached person. But later, I finished reading the novel and read the script, and I felt like he's someone who lets your heart ache for him. The feeling he gives me--because once I was reading the script in a car, and I almost wanted to cry for him, because he's always searching for the things he's lost. And he's very strong, but he wasn't born strong; he also went through a lot, and he made himself strong. He can bleed, and he can get hurt; it's just that he doesn't say anything, and he doesn't show that he's in pain.

3. Talk about the initial pressure of receiving this role?

XYL: When I got this role, the pressure was really really big, but I also thought I was pretty lucky, because I'd played Zhang Qiling before, and I get to play him again, and I think that's pretty lucky. But the pressure is too big, on set right now, the pressure is very big.

4. Netizens were pretty satisfied with your performance; have you seen these comments?

XYL: When Sha Hai was airing, I saw their comments. Some of them approved, and I was happy, but others--like, saying some suggestions or opinions--I also looked at them. I also looked at the performances of other actors who played Zhang Qiling and comments on their performances. I used them as a reference, and I learned from the experiences/evaluations of others.

5. What was the greatest challenge of playing Zhang Qiling?

XYL: The biggest challenge is that there are too few lines. It's really hard to act! [Xiaoge] has some expressions where it's just, you can't make them too obvious or too "unrestrained" because his actions are also very restrained, but if you're too restrained then everyone just thinks you don't have any reactions. And the editors are also very hardworking, because they'll have 4 pages, and I won't have a single line, just reactions. The others will talk for 10 minutes, and I'll just be reacting. [Xiaoge] is a person with few/no words, but with his whole heart, he wants to go care for others...it's very difficult; this "no lines" is very difficult. Another thing is fight scenes are very difficult, and the weather is too hot.

6. What are some scenes that left the deepest impression on you?

XYL: Like when it's 3am, and we're running through a wild river, the water is all up to our waists, and we don't know what's underground. I was just afraid there were snakes, you know? Nothing we can do, just run. And there's also, because the filming location is at Xishuangbanna, there really are snakes. We've seen snakes etc on set, so we were afraid accidents would happen. Thankfully they didn't. And there was also when we were rubbing mud on our faces during the hot day. Actually, what we were rubbing was chocolate paste. When the chocolate on our faces dried, we spread on more, and it feels like you've become a "chocolate person", not a "mud person". I also tasted it--the BTS side clips recorded it; the taste is okay. [t/n: here is a link to that clip]

7. How did it feel working with the other actors in the crew?

XYL: Liu Yuning-laoshi [t/n: Hei Xiazi] is really nice. He doesn't have a temper, and he's a very calm and tranquil person. I think he's really nice. Xiao Xi [t/n: lit. “Little Xi”, nickname for Zeng Shunxi aka Wu Xie] is a little mischievous. Xiao Xi likes to stir up trouble on set and play around. In any case he plays around with Pangzi and me, but Liu Yuning-laoshi is more tranquil, not quite the same as [his character] in the show.

8. Before you posted a vlog caring for your pet on Weibo, why don't you introduce your pet?

XYL: My dog's name is a character I played once; my mom named him. Because we'd just finished filming that show, and then my mom got a dog, so she just called him my name in the show. Tell me, isn't that annoying? [t/n: drama was called 反骗天下/Fan Pian Tian Xia and his role was called 米若/Mi Ruo; his dog is apparently called 米诺/Mi Nuo.]

9. You've been an actor for awhile now; can you discuss what being an actor feels like?

XYL: Initially, before I became an actor, I thought, "Oh, cool". Everyday you're just, wow, holding weapons, cool! But now I think it's so hard. Especially while shooting this show, I got a sty for a month, and it's still not better even now. [t/n: you can definitely see the swelling under his eye in ep1] I think this sty is from accepting this role, or because of work. In any case, it's still not better. But it's no problem; thankfully, my hair can cover it. You also have to be careful of safety on set; real blades can slice open your hands. Once, I wasn't careful and cut my wrist, but thankfully the doctor's stitching skills were pretty good. When he was still stitching, I even said, "Doctor, you have to stitch it well, okay, I'm an actor, I use this hand to perform", and he said "Okay". After the stitches were done, he asked me, "Are you satisfied with the stitches?" The results were pretty good; it didn't really leave a scar.

10. Finally, promote this show to our fans.

XYL: You all have to watch our "Ultimate Note", because filming was really tough, and we've diligently tried to accomplish these three roles [t/n: the iron triangle, I’m assuming] and later on some of the the details of many of the books. I hope you will see similarities to the novel in some of the show's scenes.

and we are done! so yeah, i think his take on xiaoge’s character was the most important part, but some of the other stuff (listening to him complain about some things lmao) was kinda funny too. im still laughing about the whole ‘im an actor i need this hand to perform’ bit bc dude you literally sliced yourself open w a knife badly enough to need stitches but that’s your first priority???? glad you’re dedicated to your job though i guess but LOL

Quick question/answer:

1. What do you want to say to Zhang Qiling?

XYL: Xiaoge, you've worked hard.

2. Who from the show would you pick to go with you on an adventure?

XYL: I’ll choose...I'll choose Pangzi, because he'll definitely bring food. And he's fat, and he's pretty joyful, oh right, I can also bully him.

3. Describe the level of your cooking skills.

XYL: Cooking skills? The rank of instant noodles. Just boiling instant noodles, then adding the flavor packets, and then tomatoes, eggs...instant noodles.

4. If you're not restricted, what kind of role do you most want to play?

XYL: If I'm not restricted, then I want to play that guy who, in the morning, is just delivering takeout or is really well-behaved and wears glasses, that type, and then at night he pushes his hair back like this [xyl mimes pushing his hair back], and he starts to....different types...in any case, like split personalities, right, split personalities.

5. A sentence to describe your ideal life.

XYL: My family and I are healthy, and I have enough money to go live a normal life, eat/drink whatever I want, travel with my family, and just grow up slowly.

oh right additional note, in zsx's interview, when asked which character he'd take, he said xiaoge without hesitation. and the interviewer asked if he wanted to know who xiaoge picked and zsx was all "he didn't pick me did he...I'll be leaving now, thank you~" 😂

#dmbj #zjbj #ultimate note #xiao yuliang #zhang qiling #shouting into the void #i made an effort to capitalize and make some grammar corrections in english this time lol #its not perfect but like you get the point #i also think it's cute that he calls zsx xiao xi lol #on the other hand seems like zsx just calls him yuliang #translation

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martellthemandalor · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Deathday

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Warnings: Language, suggestion of biting

Rating: T (teen)

Word count: 1.9K+

A/N: This is a small fic for anyone celebrating their birthday! I hope you enjoy this little treat with our favourite vampire sales manager. also no editing because i finished this at 3am lmaoo.

Masterlist!

GIF IS NOT MY OWN. CREDIT TO THE OWNER.

“Happy birthday to you!”

The off-key drone of your co-workers voices finished with an enthusiastic round of applause. You smile up at the gaggle of them, leaning forward to blow out the singular candle protruding from the cake being presented to you.

“Thank you everyone, please help yourself to a slice before you leave. Lord knows I won’t be able to finish it by myself,” You joked, gesturing to the sizeable cake that rested in the hands of your boss. He chuckled at you, setting the cake down and producing a knife to section it with.

You got to packing away your days’ work right away, your colleagues flocking to the sweet treat being offered freely on the adjacent desk.

A cold hand on your shoulder caused you to jump. Your mouth twisted into a small smile as you swivelled to find yourself met with the dark eyes of your manager.

“(Y/N) I need to see you in my office,” He instructed, that damn infuriating smirk playing across his face.

“Come on Boss, it’s her birthday let her go have fun,” Tim protested through a mouthful of cake. You grinned at him, rolling your eyes as you saw him reach for another slice.

“Thank you for your concern Tim, I would almost be grateful if it wasn’t a clear ploy to get more of my cake,” You accused playfully. “Of course boss, I’ll be right with you.”

Max gave your shoulder a squeeze, shooting you a wink as he sauntered back to his office.

“You really shouldn’t let him keep you late, this is literally the one day a year you can break the rules,” Tim mumbled at you, biting off another chunk of cake.

“Tim, I really don’t think that’s true,” You laughed, “But if it makes you feel any better, my plans don’t start until later, I kind of guessed Max would be enough of an asshole to keep me back after work,” You slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way over to Max’s office. Glancing over your shoulder you saw Tim trying to sneak another slice cake.

“Hey Tim, just take the whole thing okay? I’ve got another one coming later,” You called to him.

Tim’s eyes lit up, nabbing the cake off the desk and all but sprinting out of the door. You really did work with some… interesting characters to say the least. It certainly made every day a different experience, especially with the changes that had been happening around the office recently.

You softly rapped on the solid wood of the door, and upon hearing the muffled “Yep!” from the other side swiftly entered.

Max was leant back on his chair, legs propped up on his desk. His eyes raked over your figure as you shut the door behind you. You turned to face him, bracing your back against the smooth wood.

“You never learnt the art of subtlety did you?” You asked him, arching your eyebrow at your undead boyfriend.

“Absolutely not sweetheart, sales don’t come from subtlety,” He claimed, swinging his feet off the desk and beckoning you to come sit on his lap. You rolled your eyes at him, an involuntary action you found yourself doing twice as much since beginning your relationship with him.

“People are going to find out about this if you don’t tone it down,” You said nonchalantly, wandering slowly towards the desk, your eyes locked on his.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Max retorted, dramatically rolling his eyes in direct parody of you. “Besides babe, I just know you love it.” He punctuated his point with a wink.

God you wanted to slap him sometimes.

“And… how do you know that?” You asked. Your fingertips trailed across the polished oak of the desk, dancing around the various pencil pots and other knick-knacks he had spread across the surface. Another part of his game with the team, every time he turned someone new, suddenly a new item turned up on his desk.

Max had told you it was a motivation tactic, because of course it was. He said that people don’t like being reduced to objects, explaining that by adding an item, a trophy, each time someone was turned reduced them to just that. By doing this, and drawing attention to it through meetings and whatnot, the non-turned would work twice as hard in order to stay that way, to not be reduced to an object. He may be a smug bastard, but you couldn’t say he wasn’t a clever one.

You slid across the front of the desk, gave Max the smuggest smile you could muster, then hopped up onto the edge opposite him. A blatant shun to his previous invitation. This was another game he liked to play with you, the cat and mouse of it all, and you were more than happy to fill your role.

“Because,” he said, leaning forward in that ridiculous chair and dropping his voice lower. “I could hear your heart beat faster.”

Yeah, he got you there. Damn his upper hand. You tried to keep a straight face as the cogs in mind whirred furiously to come up with a smartass retort. It quickly became impossible to do so though, you knew Max could see right through your struggle as he slowly inched his chair closer to you. You fought back your smile, but lost the struggle with an infectious laugh as his face contorted into a smug duck face.

“Gotcha,” he proclaimed triumphantly. In one swift move he lifted you from the desk and into his lap, his strength meaning you weighed nothing as he pulled you close to him, causing a slight squeal to escape you. It sent a thrill through you whenever he displayed his strength like that, the way he strong armed you around a complete juxtaposition to the feather light way he handled you while doing it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you settled into his lap, his own hands resting comfortably around your waist. He cocked his eyebrow at you, his copyright smirk playing across his lips as he waited for you to make the move.

You smoothed your hands across the back of his neck, over his shoulders and traced your fingers across the rigid lapels of his suit. Then you grabbed onto the lapels and tugged him towards your mouth, leading him into a surprisingly gentle kiss.

His cool lips instinctively moved against your own, hand coming up to cup your jaw as he dragged his tongue across your bottom lip. Opening your mouth you let him slip his tongue in, his gentle taste of mint flooding your senses. You smiled against him when you broke for breath.

He dragged his lips across your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck.

“Happy birthday baby,” He murmured against the warmth of your skin.

“Thank you babe,” You responded, tugging lightly on his hair to pull him from you. You both looked at each other for a minute, his eyes darting over your features, as if trying to memorise you.

The silence was thick and comfortable, but as was normal with Max the quiet didn’t last long.

“Are you sure you want to do this sweetheart?” Max asked. He brushed his thumb softly across your cheekbone, his other hand coming up to caress down your neck. The tenderness of his touch made your heart jump at your ribs. You slid your hands up his arms, resting them at his wrists.

“I’m more than sure Max, we’ve talked about this, I want this,” You reassured him.

“But-” You quickly placed a finger over his lips. For a man so hell bent on turning every other warm body in the office for the sake of efficiency, he was being surprisingly apprehensive with you.

“Max. Look at me. I love you. I want this with you. There’s no one else I can possibly imagine being with, and I- fuck- I want to be turned by you so I can live with you as we are, forever. Okay?” You stressed. Max took your hands in his and brought them to his lips, peppering kisses along each of your knuckles.

“I love you to baby, so much,” He said gently. He leant in and pressed a series of chaste kisses to your lips. Then it was like a switch flipped in his head and suddenly your suave, almost douchebag of a boyfriend was back again. “Come on then sweetheart,” He announced, a tap on your thigh giving you the hint to stand up. You smiled as you dismounted him, heading for the door.

He got up and shot to the door before you could get close, opening it for you. He landed a playful swat on your ass as you crossed the open threshold, his voice following not long after.

“Let’s get you home and turned to the sexiest vamp in the office, rivalled only by me of course”

Entering your apartment was like entering a different world. Max had disappeared on his lunch break and where initially you were confused as to what he could have got up to for the full hour, it was now crystal clear.

He had come back to yours and cleaned the place from head to toe. He had also layed out candles and ruby red rose petals across the floor of the hall, which he was currently, and rather frantically, lighting as you hung up your coat.

Your living room had undergone the same treatment, with the addition of a bottle of red wine, a new wine glass set, a box of fancy chocolates and a small, very neatly wrapped, present sitting pretty in the middle of your coffee table.

“Max you- you didn’t have to do all this,” You exclaimed to your boyfriend, who had now settled himself on the sofa. He patted the space next to him, which you eagerly occupied.

“Of course I did, it’s your birthday and you deserve something extra special,” He responded, hand waving off your concerns.

He then leant forward and took the present from the table, placing it into your waiting hands. Snuggling into him, you began to carefully unwrap the present. The paper fell away to show a black velvet box, opening which caused you to gasp loudly.

Inside was a ring, a beautiful woven band of silver with a small diamond set with precision in the middle.

“Will you marry me?”

The words were murmured next to your ear, soft and laced with anxiety. Your stomach did a somersault for him, your beautiful, self-assured dumbass was really afraid that you would turn him down.

You twisted in his embrace, softly kissing him before whispering “Yes,” against his lips. His answering smile was one you were never going to forget, so full of joy and love, and all for you. Only for you.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as Max gently took the ring box from you.

He took the ring from the box and slid it onto your ring finger, sealing the placement with a kiss.

The rest of the evening flew by. Between the glasses of red, feeding each other chocolate and laughing, it felt like time had turned to liquid around you. Max was running his fingers through your hair, his gaze fixated on your neck.

It was time.

“Ready sweetheart?” He simply asked, as if you weren’t about to give up your rhythmic heartbeat for him. The anticipation was making your heart race and you wondered if you would ever miss the feeling of it hammering in your ribs.

“Yes Max, ready as I’ll ever be,” You affirmed, your hand seeking his own and instinctively locking with it.

You skin felt alight, burning hot when you felt the smooth curve of his fangs brush against your neck.

“Happy deathday baby.”

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fic #bloodsucking bastards #birthday fic #my writing

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