#anyway this is my reminder to you to never drive in someones blind spot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solarwonux · 4 years ago

Text

89. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.”

93. “Fuck…did we use protection?”

twitch streamer!wonwoo x f!reader

w.c: 3.9k (honestly I think I forgot what drabbles were clearly lol)

warnings: some angst, smut, mutual masturbation, some slight panty stuffing, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pregnancy scare, talks about plan b

note: excuse me everyone I literally love gamer and twitch streamer Wonwoo, but not everyone does. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one if you want more twitch!streamer wonwoo let me I will be happy to oblige, I have MANY ideas. Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts.

p.s send me a prompt for either svt or bts or both. I will also happily oblige to that lol

Masterlist || Drabble game

Watching Wonwoo play Zelda was not what you had expected when he had texted earlier asking you to come over. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.” He whispered against your lips in a half kiss when you walked in through his front door.

That had been over an hour and three completed levels ago. It was an empty promise long forgotten as he kept himself immersed in the game, talking enthusiastically about his day and random things his brain would conjure up on the spot. It was like you didn’t exist, and for the most part to his viewers, you didn’t. It wasn’t like you were his girlfriend or anything. Even if you were, you valued your privacy more than anything in the world. You preferred to work on your own things in the background away from his camera whenever you were over. This was something the two of you had mutually agreed to.

Casual hangs and casual sex.

Lately, your relationship had become the product of most of your stress. You never knew where you stood with Wonwoo. Sometimes he would literally invite you over to keep him company while he streamed only to kick you out the second he finished. “I’m too tired, you should go.” He would say pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I’ll see you later.”

Of course, those moments were overshadowed by the soft touches he left imprinted on your skin. By the sweetness of the words he shared with you and only you whenever he wasn’t working. It made you want more. More of him, more of his attention, and more of whatever was going on between the two of you. But that was something you refused to bring up afraid that the only one harboring feelings for the other was you.

Heartbreak was not in your plans for life, at least not for a while.

You sighed, throwing your phone down onto the couch. Your patience was wearing thin. Maybe it had to do with the fact you were already having a bad day, and Wonwoo’s indifference towards you wasn’t helping. When you had gotten his text earlier, you couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside. The two of you hadn’t seen each other in a few days with work schedules being all over the place and not aligning. It was something to look forward to, not necessarily because of the sex--which was always amazing. But you really just wanted to talk to him. Lay down with his arms wrapped around you while you complained about work and how frustrating your coworkers were being.

By the looks of it, you weren’t going to get any of that, not even what he had promised when you had first walked in. You were tired, your clothes were starting to annoy and you wanted to cry. If it wasn’t for the fact that his front door was in line with his camera, you would’ve left already.

Wonwoo could sense something was wrong with you. Every time you sighed it felt like you were punching him in the gut. He really meant what he had said when you walked in earlier. He also meant the quiet I love you he mumbled underneath his breath when you walked past him and into the living room. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with you, just that months ago he had woken up and you were the only thing he could think of. Every time he held you in his arms the three little words bubbled up in the back of his throat, wishing he could bring himself to finally say it, but his fear held him back. Afraid that you didn’t feel the same way.

“Alright, you know what I think that’s enough for tonight.” Wonwoo smiled into the camera, trying to keep up with the chat as they begged him not to go yet. “I have to go, my girlfriend is over and I want to spend time with her. Anyway, same time next week Monday guys.” Wonwoo nodded, stopping the stream. Once he was positive that he had turned everything off he felt his shoulders relax and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the panic surging through his veins was unbearable. He turned around in his chair meeting your equally shocked face.

He royally fucked up. He just confessed to his audience without meaning to confess. He had told his audience that you were his girlfriend and he hadn’t even asked you yet. The surprise and speech he had worked on all week, the reason he took a break from streaming until tonight, was for nothing. He had gotten ahead of himself and he didn’t know what to do now. Or how to fix it.

“G-Girlfriend? Wait you have a fucking girlfriend?” You stood up from his couch, blinded by anger. “What the fuck Wonwoo, when were you going to tell me? Before or after you fucked me?” You shouted, your heart was beating fast as you turned around to gather up your stuff.

Unbelievable. Here you were distracted, thinking about how cute he looked while he blamed his failure on his character. The pout that had formed on his lips as he pushed his glasses up his nose and blew out a raspberry, moving aside the strands of his newly dyed blonde hair. The frustration you had felt earlier, forgotten, replaced with admiration. Only for it to come back after what he had said, this time fiery red and ready to burn everything it touched.

“Stop, no wait, I don’t have a girlfriend. At least not yet.” He spoke fast, his words blending with one another as he quickly made his way to you. He grabbed hold of your laptop and held it against his chest.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, did you just call me down to ignore me and then fuck me one last time before you called it quits!” You said in disbelief reaching over for your laptop.

Wonwoo turned around facing away from you. “No that’s not...that’s not what...fuck, calm down please and just let me talk.” He pleaded as he sat down on his couch, your laptop still clutched tightly in his arms. It was your prized possession, it held the first three drafts of the novel you were working on. He knew you well enough to know that you hadn’t backed anything up no matter how many times he told you to do so. So, he was positive that as long as he held onto it like his life depended on it (because it did) you wouldn’t leave without it.

You crossed your arms in front of you ”I am calm, but I don’t know if I want to listen to what you have to say.”

Wonwoo cringed, he was more nervous than what he had intended to be. He had an entire speech planned. Wrote it down, even got Jihoon to proofread it. He had performed it in front of his bathroom mirror every morning and night. He thought he had it in the bag, pumped up his chest a few times before opening his front door to you earlier. Yet, the second he saw you, he forgot everything he had planned to say. This is mainly why he had spent such a long time streaming. Hoping that the distraction would somehow help him remember.

It didn’t.

“Wonwoo, I swear if you don’t start talking in the next five seconds I’m leaving and suing you for holding my laptop hostage.”

Wonwoo sighed and slapped his forehead lightly before turning to look at you, “okay, I don’t think that’s allowed bu-”

“It is if I say that you stole it trying to steal my work, I don’t know I’ll find a way.” You shrugged, earning a glare from Wonwoo. You knew he hated whenever someone interrupted him while he was in the middle of saying something. It was something you would do to him out of spite, but in your humble opinion this time he really did deserve it. Though, it didn’t make you feel as good as you had hoped, “fine sorry, you can continue.” You sighed and sat down on his coffee table.

Wonwoo put your laptop down and leaned over his elbows taking your hands in his. “I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend. I know we agreed to just keep this casual but I can’t help the way my heart literally feels like it’s going to fall out of my ass whenever I’m with you. So yeah, I don’t have a girlfriend yet, because I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend yet. But there’s no one else, only you, and I’m so-”

Wonwoo was cut off when he felt your body land on his, knocking the air out of his lungs. You hugged him, straddling his hips and burying your face into his chest, giggling. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you felt awful for assuming the worst and jumping to conclusions.

“Ask me ask me ask me ask me.” You bounced on his lap like a child. He groaned doubling over in pain.

He placed his hands on your hips to keep you from moving, “No now I know you’re actually trying to kill me.” He smirked and left a sweet kiss against your lips. A low chuckle running past his lips as he took in your pouting face, “fine, my love, my baby will you please be my girlfriend?” He cocked his head, his hands playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Yes, but only if you give me my laptop back and keep the promise you made me earlier.” You smiled innocently, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

Wonwoo smirked, his hands made their way underneath your shirt. “No to the laptop, you work too much and I’m determined to back up everything on a hard drive later.” He rubbed his thumbs over the skin of your hips, slowly inching closer to the button of your jeans, “not sure I remember the promise I made earlier though, can you remind me?”

You kissed him slowly, tugging on his shirt, “you said you would finish a level before going down on me all night, and it’s four and a half levels later and I’m still waiting.” You whispered against his lips, before pulling away and bringing his shirt over his head, taking it off, throwing it behind him, aiming for the laundry basket, missing it completely, making you sigh.

“Well you didn’t give me enough time to answer, but that can be arranged.” He pecked your lips, pushing your shirt up and over your head, throwing it behind him. “You’d have to step into my office though.”

“Wonwoo, baby, don’t ever call your room your office.” You rolled your eyes and got up from his lap.

He chuckled, shaking his head and stood up, “oh no that’s not what I meant, room comes later. Tonight we start in my office.” He says cheekily, pointing his thumb towards his gaming setup. Your eyes grew wide as saucers, only making him laugh harder while he pushed you towards his gaming chair.

“Wait, you’re like not going to turn the camera on are you?” You said as he pushed you down to sit in which you obeyed. The colorful lights from his gaming setup kept you distracted as Wonwoo got down on his knees in front of you.

“Nope, I’ve just always wanted to eat you out while you sat on my gaming chair. But maybe one day in the future if you want. You can take over my stream and play animal crossing while I secretly eat you out on camera.” He smirked, the evil glint behind his soft eyes sent shivers down your spine. The little exibitionist in him coming out. You’d be lying if you didn’t find the thought of it exciting.

“One day.” You breathed, lifting your hips, helping him as he pulled down your pants.

Wonwoo sent you a wink pushing your thighs apart with his hands, “We can also play overwatch together. That cute little vibrator you keep hidden in your bedside drawer, stuffed inside your pussy.” He placed his index finger over the wet patch that had formed over your panties, pushing in slightly. “And everytime you die I up the speed, see how long you can last before you have me begging to turn off the stream so you can cum.” Wonwoo kept pushing his finger in you, your panties sticking onto you like second skin.

You threw your head back, digging your nails into the arms of his leather chair. “F-Fuck how long h-have you thought about this?” You lifted your hips as he added another finger.

“Right now, or maybe a few times when you’re not around.” He leaned down kissing your mound lightly, “but seeing you like this, sprawled out, wet and waiting for my mouth is reinforcing those fantasies.” He worked his fingers diligently, pushing the thin material of your panties inside of you. He couldn’t wait to stuff you full with his cock later.

You let out a whimper as his mouth traveled down to your clothed entrance. He removed his fingers licking up a stride, before taking one of your lips into his mouth and biting down on it gently. “W-Wonwoo please I want to feel your mouth.”

“You are, aren’t you?.” He looked, staring at you through the rim of his round glasses before repeating his actions again making you whimper. “Take your bra off, play with yourself for me.” He left a chaste kiss in your inner thigh and sat back on his heels. He palmed himself over his black tracksuit pants as he watched you slowly unclasp your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms. You were teasing him, he knew this but he didn’t care. Seeing you get undressed for him was one of his favorite past times, especially because you always went extra slow for him.

You threw your bra, not caring where it landed. You rolled your palms over your nipples, soft sighs running past your lips as you kept your eyes trained on Wonwoo. “Want to feel your hot tongue fucking me Woo.” You spread your legs even further pinching your nipples. You moved your hand down your body, your index finger playing with the seam of your panties. “Is this one of your fantasies? Me touching myself, sitting here?” You said, tilting your head to the side, moving your hand into your panties and running your index and middle fingers over your clit slowly.

“Yes.” He hissed, pushing his hand into his boxers grabbing onto his cock. “God, you make me so hard.”

“Let me see please.” You arched your back, your fingers getting faster. Wonwoo nodded, wasting no time to free himself, his hand wrapped tightly around his length. His index finger connects with the small bead of precum that had formed, showing you how sticky and ready he was for you.

“Want to taste?” You nodded letting out soft moans as you lifted your hips, into the palm of your hand, sticking your tongue out for him. “Fuck.” He cursed getting up on his knees, bringing his index finger up to your mouth. You closed your lips around it, swirling your tongue over the tip, savoring the salty substance.

You pulled away with a pop, taking your fingers out of your panties and bringing them up to his lips. He took them in, moaning around them. “Do I taste good?” You said taking out your fingers from his mouth, moving them over his lips, wetting them further.

“I’m going to have to take a closer look.” He said lowly, pushing your panties down in a haste. He spread your legs, licking up your slit, teasing your hole with his tongue. Being in between your legs was his second most favorite pastime. He savored every moment of it. Sometimes he would prolong your orgasm, keeping you on edge, so that when you came, your sweet substance would coat his lips, spilling down his chin and neck. It was the most beautiful site, one that only he had the privilege in witnessing.

“Mmm, your tongue feels so good Wonwoo.” You pinched your nipple while tugging on the roots of his blonde hair, pushing his mouth closer.

He moaned, slurping up your juices like you were his last meal. He wrapped his mouth around your clit, pulling it between his teeth before letting it go. “I want to be here forever but I don’t think I can last any longer without being inside of you.” He pushed two of his fingers inside of you. The feeling of your wet walls wrapped around his thick calloused fingers made his cock twitch.

“B-But I-I want to cum.” You pouted, arching your back away from his chair, pushing your hips further into his hand. “Please, I’m so close already.” You pant, the knot in the pit of your stomach threatening to break.

“Oh honey, you will. I’ll have you coming undone more than three times tonight.” He stated with determination and brought his mouth down again, closing his lips around your clit. He sucked harshly moaning sinfully. He fucked you faster with his fingers curling them upwards, reaching the soft mushy skin inside of you.

“W-Wonwoo f-fuck don’t stop I-I’m so close.”

Wonwoo let go of your swollen bud, slowing down his fingers as you clenched around them. “Look at me, I want to watch me while you cum.” You agreed with a pleasure filled sigh, watching as he pushed back his glasses. The sight almost had you coming undone.

He put his mouth on you again, increasing the pace of his fingers. Babbles coming out of your mouth as you pulled on his hair, motivating him to go faster. The squelching sounds coming from your wet, hot pussy sounded like music to his ears. He bit down on your clit lightly, sending you over the edge, your cum coating his fingers, while you moaned his name in a sweet sinful prayer. His eyes burning holes into yours, the sight was award winning, his cock begging to be milked out.

Wonwoo continued, riding out your orgasm. Until you felt the oversensitivity overcome your body “W-Woo, s-stop please.” You pushed his head carefully with the palm of your hand.

He kissed the inside of both of your thighs before sitting up on his knees, taking your face into his hands. “You always look so pretty when you cum.” He pecked your lips repeatedly, before wrapping your arms around you hugging you tightly. “I love you so much.” He kissed your temple.

“Why do you always get so mushy every time you make me cum?” You laughed gently, running your fingers down his back, making him shiver.

“You bring out in me, I can’t help it, stop complaining. I’m giving you time to recover before I bend you over my desk.”

“Not complaining. I love it.” You kissed his cheek. “And I love you.” You whispered in his ear, taking his earlobe, pulling it between your teeth.. He groaned, swallowing hard, his getting tighter around you.

“My desk, then my couch, then my bed, then the shower, and then my bed again.”

The sun had started to rise. It was five in the morning and your body was suddenly overcome with sleep, when Wonwoo pulled out of you one last time. He had kept true to his promise, literally fucked you the entire night, christening his apartment, except his kitchen. “If we have sex in the kitchen, the only thing I’ll be thinking about while I’m cooking is your mouth around my dick.” He said as he pushed you into the wide window of his living room, making you laugh.

“Do you have to work today?” He placed a delicate kiss against your collar bone, laying his head on top of your chest.

“It’s Saturday, why would I have work on Saturday?” You smiled sleepily, running your fingers through his hair. He sighed happily, pulling his sheets over the two of you and cuddling into you further.

“You’re always working, I just wanted to ask.” He shrugged, raising his body enough to leave a chaste kiss against your lips. “Take a break today and I promise that by the time you wake up again I’ll have all of your files backed up into the harddrive I bought you.”

You shook your head, placing both of your palms against his cheeks, squishing them. “Do you know how sexy you sound when you talk about computers.”

“Nope, but you once told me to divide you in half when I was explaining finances to you. Now that I think about it, that statement can go both ways.” He smiled laying down on his back, bringing you along with him. Your eyes growing wide when you felt it running down your thighs. You sat up in panic, removing the sheets of your body to see if your silent hypothesis was correct.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, confused.

“Wonwoo, fuck...did we use protection?”

Wonwoo pushed the covers away with his feet, sitting up quickly. He looked between your legs, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, “You’re on the pill still right?”

“We changed my formula, I had to stop taking it for a few days.” You threw yourself down on his bed covering your eyes with your hands. The tears pooling against your eyes. You felt the bed dip next to you. Wonwoo took your hands in his, revealing your tearful eyes to him making him sigh.

“Baby, don’t worry.” He kissed your cheeks repeatedly before sitting up again, “I’ll run down to the convenience store, get a plan b while you go take a bath. I’ll join you when I get back.”

“W-What’s happens if I take the plan b and still miraculously end up pregnant, it’s only ninety five percent effective.”

“Then I’ll be with you every step of the way. I meant what I said earlier, I love you so much and I plan to marry you and have kids with you one day. Don’t worry.”

Your heart felt full. The butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach. Wonwoo and you had shared many intimate dreams and desires before, but this one felt different. This was a dream the two of you shared and it made you feel at ease. “Okay, okay I will, just hurry up please.”

Wonwoo scoffed, getting up from his bed, slipping on his sweatpants and sweatshirt. “Baby please don’t underestimate me. I’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned down giving you one last kiss before jogging over to his front door. “I love you.” He shouted, opening the door.

You laughed sitting up on your elbows shaking your head, “I love you, now hurry I can feel your child cooking in me.”

“Impossible, it takes roughly twenty four hours for my sperm to fertilize one of your eggs, and it’s literally been thirty minutes. Therefore you wou--”

“Wonwoo shut up just hurry.”

“Okay I love you.” He said while closing his front door. You laughed shaking your head falling back on his bed. Your entire body was aching and though you were a little scared, given obvious circumstances. You had never felt so much warmth and happiness in your life.

#kpopscape #kdiarynet #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fanfiction

632 notes · View notes

wuthering-valleys · 2 years ago

Note

Reasons to love Wuthering Heights?

What a lovely wonderful question!

As far as plots go, this is pretty unique. Not much more to say on this. It's just a bizarre story that only makes sense in rural Georgian England and even then it is still strange.

It is a very different take on social issues than other contemporary sources. Gothic literature is usually about that, but stories tended to have a lot of blind spots still (like the antisemitism in Dorian Grey for example). This book is unique as far as I've read for highlighting racism, sexism, classism, cycles of abuse, religious abuse, the vulnerability of orphans, etc etc etc.

It's also a different take on social issues than today. The novel presents these problems without really showing you a better way to do things. Even though the story shows strong women as good, for example, it never really says "we should give abused woman more options." Sometimes the narrator has opinions at odds with the plot's opinions of virtue. It is much less clean cut than contemporary stories highlighting social issues, for better or worse. (I personality enjoy the messiness of it.)

It's one of the best gothic novels if not the best. Gothic novels are about societal repression, isolation, the darkness of human nature, the unknown, and the supernatural. The social aspects are highlighted by how systems of power screw over a lot of the main cast in a variety of ways, and the psychological aspects are shown in a more gritty, still dramatic, but more realistic way. You don't have the theatrical feel here that you have in a lot of its contemporaries, and social issues are not glossed over even though they're not explicitly called out. The ambiguous supernatural element underscores the ambiguity and horror of the more concrete plot without ever overwhelming it.

The structure of the novel is interesting. You don't have one viewpoint character, you never hear the story directly from the people in it, and no one is totally reliable. You're often hearing Lockwood say what Nelly said Cathy said Heathcliff said 20 years ago. Even the text itself has to be taken with a grain of salt which adds to the ambiguity of the story.

The story lets the characters be very flawed and shows the consequences of that without the narrative moralizing it, if that makes sense? You see pride especially drive wedges between people and cause pain that rebounds through generations. Instead of someone saying "hey, that's bad," you see a lot of flawed people being flawed at each other and causing a lot of negative outcomes for themselves and others. In some ways, that speaks a lot louder than moralizing, but it is more subtle.

The vibes are immaculate. The moors? The closet bed? The angry ghost child? The awkward family dinners? Constant teenage drama? Background irate Calvinism? I would also begin to detach from reality 10/10 setting.

This is controversial, but I genuinely enjoy a lot of the characters and love to hear about them. Do I want to hang out with them? Probably not, but I love hearing their friend tell me everything.

This is not a univeral appeal, but the story reminds me a lot of some parts of my family. Of course Isabella eloped! Of course Joseph is still ranting about the end times! Of course people regularly try to murder each other! What do you mean no one in your family mysteriously disappeared or was kidnapped and locked in a basement? The story feels like chatting about my extended family and their adventures.

Anyway, those are some reasons I love the novel! If anyone has anything to add, I'd love to hear why you all connected with the story so much :)

#answered

10 notes · View notes

hogwartsmarvelmommy · 3 years ago

Text

I’ll be here to fix you

Tom Holland

masterlist

Warnings: OK, this has to do with domestic violence and an abusive relationship. Also just violence, and blackmail (kinda) so *Trigger warning*

For anonymous, confidential help, 24/7, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

A/N: If you are in an unsafe relationship, please reach out for help, and know it is not your fault.

A/N.2: I really debated posting this, for many reasons, so i’m sorry if this upsets or triggers anyone in anyway..

It was late when his phone began to ring, most times, he wouldn't answer calls this late, but that night something prompted him to answer. Without even a glance at his phone, he answered, bringing it to his ear.

“Tommy?” your voice was frantic through the phone, almost like you had been running all while crying. “Tommy, are you there?”

“I'm here love, what's wrong? Where are you?” He sat straight up in bed, the worry for you waking him up completely.

“I sent you my location, can you just come and get me?” It was odd for you to ask him for anything, while you were best friends, you were always very adamant on being your own person, something Tom respected a whole lot.

“I'm on my way,” Tom didn't even take any time to get dressed or anything, grabbing his keys and getting to his car in nothing but his grey sweats and old shirt he'd taken from the spider man set that he had been asleep in.

You weren't far from him, a five minute drive and he found you, sitting on a curb with your face buried in your hands. As soon as you heard the car, you glanced up, seeing it was him and practically running to get in. Once you were situated, you turned, giving Tom a light smile and nod, before looking back out the window, but he wasn't blind.

“Y/N-” he started, but you cut him off.

“Tom, just.. Take me back to your house, we can talk about it there. I don't want to be here anymore,” you sniffled as the tears that had subsided made their way back to your eyes, “Please?” You added, small sobs escaping.

Tom obliged your request, with no questions asked, and headed straight to his house. As soon as he parked the car, you were out and rushed inside, leaving Tom worried and angry. Angry at whoever left you like that.

Tom tried to give you time, to cry or wash up or whatever you were doing locked in his bathroom, but he just found himself pacing back and forth in front of the door. Finally, he couldn't take it, and knocked on the door. “Y/N?” he heard sniffles as he pressed his ear to the door, it broke his heart to hear you like that, you were his happy go lucky y/n, even if you weren't actually his.

“Am i a terrible person?” you asked through the door.

“What? No, of course not y/n, you're the best person i know!” Tom exclaimed, he was taken aback by the fact that you could ever even think that you were anything less than perfect, less then the way he saw you.

“He told me I was selfish, and awful, and I put you above everything else, which makes me a slut,” you said, unlocking the door and opening it. Tom felt his jaw clench, hearing the words coming from your mouth and seeing the bruise that was forming by your eye. You looked terrible, your eyes were bloodshot from tears, your nose raw from blowing it over and over, and your hair was all over the place.

“He said what?” Tom asked through clenched teeth. He could kill him, he would kill him, especially if he was the one that gave you the bruise. “Did he do this?” Tom reached out to touch your face but you flinched away from his hand, answering his question. He wouldn't let him get away with hurting someone, especially you.

Tom wasn't the most level headed person, some would even describe him as not being able to deal with his anger well, and in this instance he could agree he didn't handle himself as well as he could have.

The metal jail door slid open “Holland, you're free to go,” Tom sat up from where he had been laying on the concrete bench, not sure why he was being released, he was sure with how the events of last night had played out, there was no way he should be let out.

He followed the guard to the counter where they had a bag full of his personal things, before motioning for him to leave. He walked out of the police station puzzled, until he saw you standing against his car with crossed arms and a worried look on your face.

“Thomas Stanley Holland,” you said with a stern voice. Your face was back to how it usually looked, making tom figure you had makeup on, to cover the reminder of the night before.

“How did you get me out?” Tom asked you, worried you had gone out of your way to pull of some crazy jailbreak mission.

“I told him I would not press charges if he wouldn't press charges on you,” you told him. Tom felt his jaw clench again, you were unbelievable sometimes.

“What Y/N?! I would have been fine!” He exclaimed, making you roll your eyes.

“I don't really think an assault charge would be good for your career, Tommy,” of course you were right, and avoiding a charge all together was probably best for his career, but that didn't mean he was happy about it, Alex deserved to be punished for what he had done to you, and if that meant Tom went down for defending you then so be it, but he also knew arguing with you over it would get him nowhere.

“Well, i don't like it,” Tom went to grab the keys from your hands, but you quickly pulled your hand away, walking over to the drivers side and opening the door.

“Y/N, it's my car,” Tom laughed.

“And? I didn't spend the night in jail,” You shot him a smile before climbing in. You were also impossible at times, but that was part of the reason Tom was in love with you, and had been for quite a while. He wouldn't admit that to you though, he could barely admit it to himself.

You drove to Tom's house, parking the car in the wrong spot of the driveway, on purpose to irritate him. “Go shower, Tommy you smell gross,” You teased.

“I was only in there for like six hours!” He argued, shoving your shoulder lightly as you unlocked his front door.

“Uh huh, whatever you say stinky,” you giggled.

Tom went to his bathroom to shower away his night as a criminal, but he stopped when he saw your makeup scattered around his counter. He wasn't sure when you had brought it over, you hadn't had anything with you when he picked you up last night, not even your purse. He peeked his head into his bedroom and could see that his bed had been slept in, and you had a small bag of clothes on the floor by his dresser. A smile snuck onto his face, he had always told you that you had a place to go whenever you needed it, but you were so hard headed he was sure you would never actually take him up on that. On a whim, Tom decided to peek into his spare room before getting in the shower, and just like he had expected, there were a few bags and boxes of your personal things that were just waiting to be unpacked. “I should have asked, but I just needed to cut ties, get away from all of that,” You explained from behind him.

“Y/N, you can stay as long as you'd like, i'm just glad you are here,” Tom told you, pulling you against his chest.

“Me to Tommy,” You sighed into his chest.

“Y/N?” Tom asked while still holding you.

“Hmm?” You hummed into his chest.

Tom really considered his next question, he didn't want to upset you, but he had to know. “Was that not the first time he hit you?”

“I should have left months ago,” You whispered. “I just, I thought I could fix him, he was broken, and I'm a fixer, but instead of me fixing him, he broke me,” Tom felt the warmth of your tears on his chest. “It started off as little things, one fight he threw a rag at me, and then another he slammed the door on my hand, that's when I broke my fingers, and I kept telling myself it wouldn't escalate, and then last night.. He said that I was a slut, because I spent too much time with you, and I tried to argue that it was because you were just my best friend, and he slapped me across the face, and called me a liar.” you pulled away to look up at tom. “I'm a strong girl Tom, but I felt like next to nothing last night, and that's when I knew I had to get out.. I left and ran to the park and called you. Months of belittling, and name calling.. i didn't even see how bad it was, until it was to late,”

Tom's heart broke knowing this had been going on for months under his nose, that his y/n was hurting so much and he didn't even see it. He brought his thumb up to your bruise barely visible thanks to the makeup. He wasn't sure what exactly came over him, but he leaned down and kissed the spot ever so lightly.

“He may have broken you y/n, but I'll be here to fix you, no matter how long it takes,” he whispered. You smiled at your best friend, your Tommy. Taking a chance, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, and pressed your lips into his. It had always been Tom, you were just way too stubborn to accept it. You pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“What happened last night tom?” You asked. You had only seen the aftermath, after Tom's phone call from the police station, informing you he'd been arrested. He rushed out so quickly, leaving you a mess in his bathroom. Then after his call, you had to uber to your apartment, finding it in shambles, from a physical fight. You knew you had to protect Tom. You couldn't let him go down to protect you. So you called Alex, telling him you were going to press charges, unless he promised to not press charges against Tom, and of course him being who he was, he agreed instantly, anything to keep his own name clean. morally, it probably wasn't the right decision, but you had to do what you had to do.

“Well,” Tom started, thinking back to how he had acted, and what had actually transpired.

Tom banged on the door, repeatedly, until Alex finally opened it. As soon as the door opened Tom shoved Alex pushing his way into the apartment. “Did you lay your hands on her?” he shouted. Causing a scoff out of Alex.

“Of course she went crying to you, it's always you Holland,” he spat, pushing Tom back.

The rest was a blur, Tom wasn't sure who threw the first punch, but he was sure who threw the last, and though he had been a little too rough, he didn't regret it, because he had done it for you.

Tom told you exactly how he had recalled the night, down to the police showing up. You were upset with him for jeopardizing his career, but you were also thankful to have someone like Tom, who would always come to your rescue when you allowed it.

“Thank you Tommy,” You whispered. It would take time to recover from the last few months of your life, but you were sure with the help of Tom, and a little too much ice cream, you would come out on the other side stronger than ever.

#Tom Holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #angst #tom holland angst #domestic violene helplines #domestic violent relationships #reach out for help #don't be silent

117 notes · View notes

ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ‘you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i��m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left, boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ‘don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school, taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts au #hoseok au #bts smut #hoseok smut

149 notes · View notes

emily-the-fae · 3 years ago

Text

Every Day is a Lullaby

A oneshot. This honestly came to my mind yesterday night, I do not know how well the idea turned out to be.

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x OC

Warnings:probably language, blood, injury, background character death, brief mentions of sex, angst mith mix of fluff

Rated: T

Mr Ketch has many sides, likable and repulsing - but which one of his faces is truly his is sometimes an uncertainty even for him.

Harper reflects on the changes on their relationship as they get out of a hunt gone wrong. While Ketch reconsiders some of his past choices... And reasons why he is still alive.

If he's a serial killer

Then what's the worst

That can happen to a girl

Who's already hurt

I'm already hurt

The first time Harper met him was a coincidence. It was long before the whole nephilim thing, long before she found out what kind of man he was, what kind of hunter he was. Yet even back then in the span of their first couple of meetings she felt he was no good.

A stupid hunting coincidence.

Harper was not used to hunting alone. She did that to herself - separated herself from the Winchesters. However much she loved Sam and Dean, she could not bear continuously being around them, not after everything that happened. Not after Charlie. Because no matter what Dean said or how Sam reassured her - it was her fault. Charlie was a great friend. Charlie had the brightest soul. Harper was late to help her and now Charlie was no more. It was all Harper's fault.

Driving away and going head first into hunting was the outmost Winchester way of dealing with the guilt and grief. Hunting alone while slowly coming out of her lowest phase - those were the circumstances under which Harper met Arthur Ketch.

The first time it happened it was a coincidence - two hunters choosing the same target is not uncommon. Harper was already on spot and all in the fight when he arrived. "Are you insane going into a whole vampire nest alone?" - those were the first words she ever heard from him. She might have been slightly insane, but he sure was a damn psycho. To be honest if not for him she would have probably ended up dead or turned in that vampire nest that night. Harper hates being honest about it.

The second coincidence happened just a few days after the first one - she would later on doubt if it was a coincidence at all. Perhaps it was. Harper would never really know - what she did know though was that he still had a small scar left above his left eyebrow - a mark of where she hit him with the grip of her gun, thinking it was the witch that was creeping up to her and absolutely not expecting to hear a male voice swearing after her blow. Arthur had not known her for 24 hours in sum and they were already making a scene after a hunt - Harper almost pitied she had not knocked him out straight away.

What happened on the next day? He caught her in the town and suggested to team up to avoid "future confusions". Rule number one how to become friends with Arthur Ketch: hit him in the face. Harper wasn't going to become friends with him - with any hunters for that matter - but fate seldom cared what Harper was going to do anyways.

Harper definitely lied to herself when she said that they were going to be only friends or that she was going to hate him after all the British Men of Letters invasion story. She didn't. Not with the way they met in the first place: him ripping her out of the claws of the angry remnants of the vampire pack - slightly concerned greyish blue eyes and a British accent was what greeted her at dawn that day, even though mid in fight she had accepted she would not see the sun again. It seemed symbolic how he saved her from giving up, from herself. And certainly not after the way their relationship went from mutual curiosity to blind semi-professional trust. Harper did not need a "friend" to console her: if she had wanted that she would have stayed around Sam - she needed someone unfeeling but understanding enough to see through her and consciously let it be.

She remembered it clearly - three hunts into their relationship - a month after their first encounter - they were sharing a hotel room. Two beds, late night after a hunt, she lied on her side and quietly cried. It was a demon hunt. The memories were too much. Arthur came into view and stared at her for a couple of moments before walking to his own bed.

- I'd say you can talk about it when you want to, but I doubt you will ever feel the necessity, - a brief caress of his hand against her shoulder. He did not try to relieve her, he allowed her to get to her own way of coping. For that Harper was grateful more than ever. - We all have skeletons in our closets, it's the downturn of the job.

Oh, dear Arthur, we are both now aware you knew far too well what you were talking about. Harper doubted any hunter had a closet cemetery as large as Ketch's.

Yet... Even after that - the awkward reuniting with the Winchesters, being pulled away from him as she came back to her old friends and witnessing, luckily from a safe distance, how the man she grew to trust without actually knowing him, uncovered darker and darker sides of his personality. What was worst - after she refused to join the BMoL, he would continue to sometimes keep her hunting company, going on like nothing happened. Like nothing changed. Why worst? It let the image of the heartless killer that she should have seen before her now connect and combine with the image of the man who would patch her up on her darkest nights and put a firm hand on her shoulder when Harper was too deep in memory to restrain herself. His presence around her became a reassurance in itself - because he did not have to know to understand. And because he simply had not been there - looking into his eyes Harper wouldn't get reminded of the times when everything was still right, wouldn't get reminded of that one time everything went very wrong. Probably those were the main qualities that helped him win a spot in her heart. Those and his unending casual flirting.

And now? After everything was over, after his very dark side was revealed, the confessions were made and the redemption was played, what did she think of him? The hunter, turned out just a very well trained assassin - he had served the British Men of Letters, he had served Asmodeus - now here he was separated from any commanding he ever had, living a hunting life of his own and sometimes collaborating with the Winchesters. Therewere many dark moments forgotten for the sake of peace. Many more had yet to come up - judging by how Ketch treated his own history and interests of others.

" - I wonder where Mick went, he was always so nice... Nicer than you, anyways. Pity he went away all of a sudden, - Harper mentioned once after a hunt.

- He did not go anywhere. I shot him in the head just like Hess ordered, - Ketch seemed calm and cold as steel. " Sometimes Harper thought that leaving BMoL would change him, but moments like that she realized how slowly the changes - if any - would have to occur. That night she simply walked away, not saying another word.

If anyone ever asked Harper how Arthur's spot in her heart had shifted after all the mess he had caused? She would say that he never even had one... And think that truth to be told there was no flame hot enough to burn him out of her chest - his name carved on her ribs would have been easier to get rid of than the bittersweet affection she harboured for the moral wreck of a man named Arthur Ketch.

If he's as bad as they say

Then I guess I'm cursed

Looking into his eyes

I think he's already hurt

He's already hurt

Despite that Harper never dared pursue a relationship. Why? She was very sure with people like Ketch the only right strategy was not to expect them to be capable of attachment. The flirting, the sweet promising looks he would give her after a well-accomplished hunt... Harper would dream of believing them to be genuine. She was very well aware thinking him in any way genuine was a risk she was not ready to take. She knew Ketch would not mind letting that affair happen - he made that quite clear. She also knew it would mean absolutely nothing to him apart from some company and a warm body in his bed. Arthur Ketch was cold, unemotional and taught himself well not to get attached to anyone - and even if that was not true, he tried his damn best to make it seem so.

Harper sometimes hoped she saw it in his eyes: a silent "please keep safe" when they would part after a hunt, a sparking "I missed you" when they would meet once again. Arthur sometimes hoped she would see it too - very deep in his soul, deeper than he would ever be able to admit even to himself.

In other words, the outcome of the new hunt would have presented itself sooner or later anyways. They were actually quite lucky to have it present itself the way it did.

The werewolf did not seem such a hard target - away from bigger packs, alone terrorizing the neighborhood - just because he could. Problem and solution crystal clear - a hunt where one clearly sees the root of evil is a blessing for a hunter that's used to all the versions of heartbreaking stories. What Harper did not so clearly see was the gun in their opponent's hands. To be more precise: she did see it, but a little too late.

Two gunshots rang at the same time: her silver bullet hitting right into the monster's heart and his normal one - ... Ketch fell against the wall, sliding down to the floor: his left shoulder bled, the bulletproof vest, even though being pierced in the thinner area, had preserved him from being too deeply injured - but not kept completely safe from wounding.

Several seconds of silence - making sure the werewolf is not a threat anymore - realisation and fear finally hitting Harper.

- Ketch?... Ketch?!... Arthur! - the hunter was too disoriented to answer and his silence was taken as a bad sign. - Oh Lord, Arthur, no! - gone are the self-restraint and professional coldness: the moment she sees blood on his chest, she rushes to his side, forgetting about everything else in the world. She needs to make sure he will be fine. He has to be. - Arthur, please, don't die on me! Arthur! - she calls for his attention, the hunter slowly regaining his senses.

For a moment there he believes he hears Tony. This reminds him of some of his unlucky hunts from the years before, though back then he had certainly had it worse. Besides this definitely was not Tony.

Tony would have said "Ketch's down" and carry on with the hunt, eyes on the target, and when the deed was done she would pass him with a short "How is it?" - more out of politeness than genuine caring. That was exactly what she did the only two times he had been seriously injured infront of her.

- Ketch, answer me right this instant, don't you dare fading out! - panic in her voice, genuine. The idea of someone caring as much as to panic at the thought of his death seems too good to be true - for him at least. Arthur feels hands investigating his chest, checking for the wound: cold thin fingers running over his blood-covered skin. Not Tony - Harper.

- I'll live, darling, it's nothing too serious, - attempting to sound confident, but his voice is rasp. It's nothing serious, but it hurt nonetheless: the blow on the shoulder was much harder than anticipated and the bleeding needed to be stopped.

Harper looks into the light blue, borderline grey eyes - he is staring up at her, his gaze unguarded only for a moment that lets her see the uncommon softness and hope in his expression - just for a moment - she believes the things she guessed about him were true, she believes the pain visible in his eyes is true, only by accident revealed to her. The state lasts only a couple of moments - but even that is more than enough for his visible emotions to imprint into her mind.

Arthur Ketch was able to feel. Arthur Ketch could be in pain. Arthur Ketch was capable of needing help.

I said "Don't be a jerk, don't call me a taxi"

Sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat ooh-ooh

I just wanna dance with you

Hollywood and Vine, Black Rabbit in the alley

I just wanna hold you tight down the avenue ooh

I just wanna dance with you

It was a wonder that the hotel clerk did not stop them on their way - Ketch looked positively dying - Harper was quite sure there was no legal thing that could have happened to him that would have explained this appearance. This was the reason normal hunters chose motels: less suspicion. Harper briefly wondered where he got the money to maintain his former lifestyle, since he was stripped of the BMoL funding, but she guessed there were other sources on his side and he was just too stubborn to change his ways.

When they stumbled into his hotel room, Arthur made a move to drop himself on the bed, but Harper grabbed him by the collar swiftly, dragging him away in the other direction.

- Ketch don't you dare stain the sheets, they'll report us, - she mumbled, pushing him to enter the bathroom and dropping him to sit on the edge of the tub.

He would have laughed if the sudden movement had not caused sharp pain to shoot through his damaged shoulder, making him wince. Alexandra. He had wondered for so long whom Harper reminded him of and out of all moments they shared it was this that made him realise. The memory reappeared in his mind so vividly now.

"Artie, no! Don't go to your room, you'll stain your carpet! Mum will kill us!" - and the older girl held him under his arms, guiding him to the kitchen.

He still remembered it: the years before school, before Kendricks, him and his sister mostly alone in the house with parents constantly away. Alexandra had brought him up before Kendricks had. Alexandra had a lovely voice, she would read him bedtime stories, she would sing to him, she was kind and caring - probably the only human being in his life that ever seemed to care. When he went to Kendricks was the last time he had ever seen her... Well, alive. Alexandra was kind and caring - and that was probably the reason why she had not made it through the training. In fact her death might have been the only reason why he survived and made it to the top - having no one care about you has a benefit: you don't have to care about anyone too.

After his sister's funeral life had never felt the same and Arthur had been quite certain before that it was for the better. Now, watching Harper rush about, trying to find the medical kit to help him, he thought that he had been terribly wrong all the damn time.

How long has she known him? A couple of years, not more, but the relationship between them reached beyond the borders of friendship or companionship. That little american hunter - the first time he saw her he thought she was suicidal, the second one - bold and full of sass. The following months proved her well capable of combining both while turning out to be so much more, one of which being: to be able to love Arthur Ketch. Of course he knew she loved him - this was among those traits in her that he openly treated with polite contempt and deep down envied more than anything.

He watched Harper come to his side, sliding his hunting gear off his shoulders - her movements so gentle, her eyes filled with worry and guilt.

- I'm so sorry Arthur, I should have... - you're always sorry. You always think it is your fault and none else's. This was most probably the main reason why it was so easy for him to openly reject her feeling: they both knew she loved him, they both knew he saw it, he toyed with her so many times, being suggestive, flirting. "As long as I enjoy the physical aspects of having an affair, the emotional attachment that other people believe necessary to form is rather pathetic" - he told her once. He actually said that, those were his words. I would like to fuck you as long as you shut your disgustingly human little heart. She stared at him for a moment, her beautiful face almost successfully hiding the hurt - then turned away silently, shrugging her shoulders. He was being a jerk. Harper never stopped him from that, Harper seemed to take it all in and believe he was right, believe that her feeling for him was utterly pathetic. That it was her fault.

- It was no one's mistake, love, it was an unlucky accident. Besides it didn't turn out that awful, - he trailed off. She was cleaning his skin over the wound now, preparing to apply stitches. Arthur could sense a little shudder in her at the word "love". He was so used to saying it that he forgot about all the connotations it held. Lord, was he bad at this.

Harper continued her work silently. She felt him studying her face and prayed to be finished as quick as possible - she did not need another heartbreaking hope and she had already made the mistake of looking into his eyes that night. When the last stitch was done, she turned away to put the materials aside and sensed him straighten up behind her back - Harper felt he wanted to say something else, but she could not give him that opportunity. She almost thought he would die that night - seeing him on the floor made her blood run cold - she did not need any more pain to add to the aftermath of the shock.

- I'm going to my room, but please call me if you feel worse during the night, - she spoke, not turning to face him, ready to walk out of the bathroom. Harper felt his hand grab her wrist in a rushed movement and turned abruptly only to see him staring back at her with unguarded softness in his eyes. The only time she remembered Arthur look at her like that was when she twisted an ankle during the hunt all due to his mistake. It scared her a little to see that expression on him.

- Why won't you just stay to keep an eye on me? - his voice low, with an undertone she so often heard when he flirted with her.

- You're a big boy, Ketch, we both know that even stitching you up was superfluous, you can perfectly well tend to yourself, - a smile. Harper tried to brush it off jokingly, ready to make her leave, but his grasp on her wrist only grew stronger.

- Stay. At least for this night. Please, - the smile disappeared from her face. He sounded wounded, he sounded like he really pleaded. Harper broke away from his grasp, taking a step back.

- You don't need a... - she shook her head.

- But I do, - he stood up, taking a step towards her, not letting her increase the distance between them. His fingers came up to caress her cheek gently. - Harper, stay, - she shut her eyes, standing still and quiet for a couple of seconds, seemingly fighting back emotions.

- You don't mean this, - she said, looking up at him sharply and confidently, but in a moment, failing to restrain herself, she continues more quietly and softly. - Why do you have to be so cruel to me? - he could see tears brimming in her eyes.

They stood frozen in front of each other, her face so close to his, her eyes watering - not because of this particular evening, but because of all those times before he had behaved in similar nature. It was the first time she had so directly addressed the issue of her feelings for him. "Why do you have to be so cruel to me?" She seemed to be waiting for an actual answer. Why was she always so kind to him? Like he was normal, like he didn't hurt her? Arthur leaned down, his hand still cupping her cheek, his lips touching hers gently and firmly.

Harper closed her eyes - not as a girl would do in a pretty romantic movie - she shut her eyes, pressing her eyelids together, holding her breath, shuddering. A single tear ran down her cheek.

When they parted, though his face still stayed just a few centimeters away from hers, Harper opened her eyes again, her breath shaking.

- Arthur...

His free hand circled her waist, pulling her closer to him, as his fingers slid away from her cheek, moving behind her head, running through her hair. Arthur leaned close to her ear, his breath ghosting over her neck.

- Because I hate how you make me feel like I can still have a life, like not everything is lost. I hate how you make me feel worth being cared about and able to care. I hate how you make me feel, - he said that rushed and quiet. Pressing his front to the side of her head, breathing deeply.

- And what if you are lying? What if this all is for the sake of one night? I'm tired of guessing if you have a soul or not, Arthur, I'm too worn out, - she wispered after some time, leaning her forehead into his uninjured shoulder.

- Then trust me this one time. I promise. Please.

- Why?

- Because I need you. I need you to feel alive.

Arthur felt her let out a deep breath, her petite form pressing itself to his, her arms sliding behind his back to hold him close. She raised her head, freezing for a moment before their eyes met, then leaning up - their lips meeting now less gingerly than the first time.

- Does that mean you'll stay?

- You're such an asshole, Ketch...

- I know.

Harper hid her face in his chest, sobbing quietly, her form shacking, worn out both physically and emotionally. Arthur kissed her temple softly, caressing her back, for once feeling like he did everything right. For once feeling like they had a chance.

Happiness is a butterfly

Try to catch it like every night

It's escaping from me into moonlight

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #arthur ketch x oc #this is written half at night and half on school breaks please don't judge me #i havenot revisited this fandom in such a long time #arthur ketch x reader #arthur ketch #sam winchester #dean winchester #british men of letters #angst #happiness is a butterfly #lana del rey #oneshot #songfic

21 notes · View notes

thatfanficstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Feelings - Tony DiNozzo

Pairing: Tony DiNozzo x reader

Warnings: canon typical violence and situations, language.

A/N: 3500 words. Way longer than I’d intended. First time writing Tony x reader. Hope you like it.

***

Gibbs had his rules for a reason. You didn’t ask about those reasons. It was hard enough just remembering the damn rules without worrying about the back story that went with them. There was a rule for just about anything: dealing with attorneys, putting family first, not annoying Gibbs. There was even that one rule about not dating your co-workers that you were dying to know the origins of but were in no way brave enough to ask.

Unfortunately, there was no rule about falling in love with your co-worker. Sometimes you wondered if there was, if you could have avoided all this. I mean, you were so careful about following the rules to the point that Tony often made fun of you for having them memorized. If you were honest with yourself, you knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Hadn’t you tried everything you could think of to keep your heart from falling for his hazel eyes and lazy smile?

He was a player. But that didn’t stop your gaze from following him as he headed to the elevator and his latest date.

You reminded yourself he never took anything seriously even while you laughed at his latest prank.

He talked about movies way too much. It was obsessive really. That didn’t stop you from watching every film he mentioned, a bowl of popcorn in your lap and an empty space beside you on the couch.

Maybe that was the problem. Perhaps you were just lonely. Maybe—

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice pulled you from your thoughts and you realized you’d been staring at the same piece of paper on your desk for the last half hour. Shit.

You glanced up, eyebrows raised in question. “Yeah?”

His brow was furrowed and his gaze was filled with concern. “You okay?”

Your cheeks heated and you turned back to the papers on your desk. “I’m fine.”

Tony huffed. “If there is one thing I know, it’s that a woman is never fine when she says she is. So, what’s going on?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing, Tony.”

The next thing you knew, he was right beside you, perched on the corner of your desk. If Gibbs and McGee were here you wouldn’t have to deal with this. McGee would tell him to leave you alone and Gibbs would smack the back of his head. They both respected your privacy. Your need to not share every aspect of your life. Why couldn’t you have fallen for one of them?

As you leaned back in your chair, you ran your gaze over him until you met his eyes. “Can I help you with something, DiNozzo?”

“It’s never nothing, Y/N. You’re always zoning out lately. Something’s bothering you.”

“I just didn’t sleep well. It’s not a big deal. Everyone has off days, today’s one of mine.”

He hummed as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Normally I’d give you that, but this has been going on for weeks. So, what is it? Money? Are you sick? Have a fight with Abby?”

You just leaned back in your chair and kept your eyes on the man sitting on your desk like he owned it. He continued to list topics, pausing between each one to gage your reaction.

Suddenly, his brows shot up as he frowned. “Is it a guy?” The tone of his voice said that it couldn’t possibly be the right answer. It would have been so easy to fool him, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from moving away from him, afraid he’d see everything you were too afraid to say.

“It is!” There was an undertone to his voice you couldn’t quite place.

You ignored it, and him, to turn your attention back to the paperwork on your desk.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“There’s nothing to say, Tony. Now can I please get back to work? I really don’t want Gibbs chewing my ass again.” You were far enough behind on your paperwork that Vance had said something to your boss. That had earned you a head slap and an admonishment about you knowing better.

Tony grabbed the pen from your hand and dropped it on the desk. “Come on. You know Gibbs doesn’t care about paperwork. He’s just passing along the ass chewing he got from Vance. Quit avoiding the question. Is this why you’ve been skipping out on our dinners?”

You sighed. Tony liked to eat and you liked to cook so you’d started inviting him over once a week. Lately you’d feigned other plans to keep from having to spend an evening concealing your feelings. “Actually, yes.”

“Nice. You start getting laid and leave me to starve.” He moved back over to his desk with a scowl on his face. “I thought I meant more to you than that.”

His affronted tone had you rolling your eyes. “I didn’t say anything about getting laid. And you’re hardly starving.”

“Tell that to my scale. I’ve lost five pounds since you quit feeding me.”

His disgruntled tone bothered you. “Are you okay, Tony?”

He shook his head but said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just miss your cooking is all.”

His phone rang before you could respond. After a quick conversation, he hopped to his feet. “Johnson hasn’t showed up at home. Gibbs wants us to try his mom’s place while they sit on the apartment.”

***

Despite your suspect’s mother claiming she hadn’t seen her son in months, it was your experience that people tended to run home when scared. You hoped that’s precisely what this suspect had done as you were more than ready to close the case.

Tony parked along the curb at the end of the driveway so no one could pull out while you two were otherwise occupied. He took the front while you went around the back. He gave you a moment to let you get into position before knocking on the door. As you listened to the hum of him talking to someone, you kept your weapon trained on the back door. A moment later, the unmistakable feeling of a gun pressed against the back of your head. Shit. You should have done more than your cursory examination of the backyard.

“Easy there, sweetheart. Hands up.”

You did as instructed, and he yanked your weapon from your hand. “Phillip Johnson, I presume.”

“That’s me. Give me the keys to the car.”

“What car?”

He slammed the side of the gun into the back of your head. Not hard enough to knock you out but hard enough to give you an instant headache. “Don’t play stupid.”

“I don’t have the keys. I didn’t drive.” You forced the words through teeth gritted in pain.

He stepped up behind you to pat down your pockets. “Fuck,” he growled when he discovered you were telling the truth.

“Look, just go. It’s not like I can shoot you as you run away, you have my weapon.” You wanted to diffuse the situation, to try to control the fallout from your fuck up. He was angry and armed and was the type to start shooting people if he felt trapped.

“So you can scream for help before I get two blocks away? I don’t think so.” He pushed you toward the back door. “In you go.”

You gave a brief thought to yelling for Tony but kind of liked your brains where they were. Johnson had already killed once, what was to keep him from killing again? He shoved you through the house causing you to stumble more than once. You could hear Tony still arguing with the mother at the front door. Johnson stepped up behind you and pinned you against his chest with a thick arm, the gun now shoved against your temple. He walked you into view of the front door though you couldn’t see anything as his mother blocked the opening.

“Look, Mrs. Johnson, while I appreciate your position, the fact remains that we have a warrant for your son’s arrest. You’re gonna need to let me in to make sure he’s not here or we’ll come in anyway and won’t be nearly as nice about it. I’ve already called backup. They’re on the way.” Tony was using the placating tone he always used when trying to convince a suspect or a witness that he was harmless and reasonable.

“You come in and your friend dies,” Johnson yelled.

His mother was pulled from the doorway and onto the front porch behind Tony who had his gun drawn and aimed in almost the same moment. His eyes were glued to the weapon pressed to your head. His face lost what little color it had. “Let her go, Phil. You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, but I do.” He moved forward and slammed the door in Tony’s face. He shoved you and put some space between the two of you. “Close the blinds and the curtains,” he ordered. When you dared to look at him, he waved the gun as if to bring your attention to it. Like you could forget for a minute the situation you were in. Your eyes flicked down, spotting your sidearm tucked into his waist band.

Your brain worked through scenarios even as you did as he’d ordered. As you closed the last blind you caught a glimpse of Gibbs stepping from his vehicle. Your team would get you out of here. They had to.

***

It had been almost two hours. Once you’d secured the house to his satisfaction, Johnson had used your own cuffs to restrain you. Fortunately, he was an idiot and left your hands in front instead of placing them behind your back so you’d have less mobility. He was using your phone to talk to Gibbs periodically. He’d put the calls on speaker and you could tell Gibbs’ patience was wearing thin. You’d tried to talk to him during the first call and Phillips backhanded you with the gun still in hand. The whole right side of your face felt tight and sore. Asshole.

“What the hell is taking so long?” he muttered as he peered through a gap in the blinds. He glanced over at you. “Call him.”

You reached forward and pressed the button to call Gibbs and put it on speaker. “Gibbs,” he answered.

“Where’s my money and my car?”

“I told you it was going to take some time. If you want to forget about the money, you can leave right now. I’ll even give you a police escort out of town. Just let your hostage go.” You could hear the anger simmering in his voice.

“You have thirty minutes or I start sending her out in pieces.” He slammed his finger down on the disconnect.

“Well, that was monumentally fucking stupid.” So was pissing off the man with the gun but you were running out of time. You’d been waiting for an opening, but thus far hadn’t found one. It was time to make one of your own.

He shoved the barrel of the gun against the temple on the sore side of your face and you winced. Fucker. “What did you say?”

“You just confirmed that you have no problem hurting me. And you put a timeline on it. They’ll try to take you out now.”

Uncertainty flashed on his face and he glanced toward the windows.

“You were smart covering the windows, but they’ll be getting ready to send in a tactical team now. They’re probably already out front.”

After a second of indecision, he moved away from you to peek through the gap between the blind and the window. His gaze kept darting back to you. “I don’t see anything.”

You shook your head. “They’ll be prepping further down the street so it’s harder for you to see.” You gestured to one of the other windows. One that would put him close to you with his back turned while he tried to get a view of his impending doom.

As he moved to the new viewpoint, you leaned forward, shifting your legs so you could get to your feet quickly. The moment his attention was elsewhere, you launched yourself at him. He grunted as he slammed against the wall and window.

“Bitch!” He tried to turn, to get the gun up, but you didn’t give him even a single moment to recover. You couldn’t or that would be the end of you. Instead, you shifted your weight to come at him from a different angle. You drove him toward the ground, grabbing your gun from his waistband as you went.

The impact knocked the weapon from his hand. You pushed yourself to your feet and aimed your weapon. Johnson didn’t even notice as he scrambled for his own gun. You fired a round into the floor by his head and he froze instantly. “Give me a reason.”

He rolled over, hands raised in front of him. Your phone began to ring but you kept your attention, and your gun, on Johnson. “Couch,” you instructed.

The call had barely had time to go to voicemail before it began ringing again. If you didn’t answer it soon, things would get a hell of a lot more chaotic. Still, you waited until Johnson sat on the couch to move over and grab the other gun from the floor. You laid it on the table beside you.

Your phone started another cycle of ringing and you heard Gibbs on the bullhorn. “Answer the phone or we’re coming in.”

You answered the call on speaker phone, needing to keep your hands free for your gun. “You can come in, but I’m going to be real pissed if someone shoots me.”

A sigh of relief was the immediate answer.

“Johnson has been disarmed. I’m the one that fired the shot. See you in a second.”

It wasn’t even a breath later that the front door opened and people swarmed around you. You kept your weapon trained on Johnson even as he was pulled to his feet and placed in cuffs. A hand settled on top of yours and you followed the length of the arm to find Gibbs standing next to you. “We’ve got him. You can stand down, Agent.” His jaw tightened as he took in the injury to your face. His eyes found yours and softened. “Give me the gun, Y/N.”

You nodded and loosened your grip so he could take the weapon from you.

“DiNozzo, get her out of here,” he ordered.

You turned to your other side to find Tony. The smile he gave you was strained, but it was good to see it just the same. “Hey.”

His smile widened, became a little more genuine. “Hey.” He unlocked the cuffs and took them off before tossing them to Gibbs. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to steer you out the door and you relaxed against him, content to simply be in his presence after the last couple of hours.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said as he led you to a waiting ambulance. “Let’s not do this ever again, okay?”

“But I was so looking forward to making it a weekly thing.” You sat so your feet dangled out of the back of the ambulance while the medic looked you over. Tony stood silently, arms crossed over his chest as he watched them work. You grit your teeth and flinched as they pressed against bruised skin checking for broken bones. You cursed outright when they found the bump on the back of your head.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have this checked at the hospital to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

You waved him away. “I’m good. Promise.”

“Y/N/N, maybe you should—” Tony interjected but you cut him off.

“I just want to go home, Tony.”

He looked uncertain.

“Please.”

He thought a moment more before saying, “Yeah. Okay.”

Your shoulders sagged in relief and you took the hand he offered you. Once you were on your feet, he stayed close but released your hand. Instead, he settled his at the base of your spine to steer you through the scene until you stood in front of your boss.

“They clear you?” Gibbs asked, looking between you and Tony.

“Sure did, boss,” Tony answered for you, sounding entirely too upbeat. You resisted the urge to smack him in the stomach.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes but nodded just the same. “All right. Take her home. I’ll see you both in the morning for debriefing.”

***

Tony was unusually quiet on the way home, which was fine since you didn’t really feel like talking. After the third time you caught him looking at you, you turned your attention out the window. It wasn’t until he parked the car that you focused enough to realize he hadn’t taken you to your home at all. You followed the familiar path to his apartment.

“Have a seat,” he instructed once you’d made it inside. He disappeared into the kitchen while you made yourself comfortable on his couch. When he emerged, he held a beer in one hand and a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel in the other. He placed the beer on the table beside you and handed you the makeshift icepack. You held it to the side of your face, flinching at the contact.

“Thanks.”

He nodded absently and began to pace the floor. Your gaze followed him for a couple of minutes before you interrupted. “What is it, Tony?”

He turned to you, his eyes wide. His gaze darted down then back up and he licked his lips. He pulled something from his pocket and set it on the table. It took you a moment to realize it was your phone. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and pink dusted his cheeks. “I should have given that to you earlier. You probably want to call this boyfriend I knew nothing about. But if you could wait a minute, there’s something I need to say first.”

“Only if you sit. The pacing’s driving me nuts.”

He grinned at that and sat on his coffee table. He was close enough your knees touched. You resisted the urge to press closer. When several minutes passed without him saying anything you spoke up. “Tony—”

“No. I’m sorry. I’m getting to it. I just usually don’t do this sort of thing.”

“Talk?”

“Cute, but no.” He licked his lips again. “Look, I lied to you.”

You frowned as you tried to follow what he was trying to tell you.

He sighed. “When we were talking about this guy and all those canceled dinners and you asked if I was okay. I said yes when that was the furthest thing from the truth. In my defense, I thought I would be okay. I mean, if he makes you happy, that’s what’s important, right?”

He pushed to his feet before you could respond and started pacing the floor again. “But then you had to go and get yourself held hostage. When I saw you with that gun to your head, I knew I’d never be okay again if something happened to you. If I lost you before I ever had a chance to tell you.” He stopped pacing and turned to face you. “I’m crazy about you, Y/N/N. I have been pretty much from the moment Gibbs introduced you to the team.”

You blinked as you tried to process the fact that Tony DiNozzo had just admitted to having feelings. For you.

“Right, well, that’s done. I’ll just go see what I have for dinner.” He fled to the kitchen before you could stop him.

Rather than calling him back, you followed him. You stepped into the doorway to find him leaning on the counter with his back to you and his head bowed. Your heart ached at that thought that he’d apparently been pining after you as much as you had him. “It was you.”

He looked over his shoulder. His brow furrowed as he met your gaze. “What?”

“The guy that I cancelled all the dinners for? That was you.”

He turned to give you his full attention. “That doesn’t make any sense, Y/N/N.”

You shrugged. “Well, see, I would have dinner with you. We’d watch a movie together. Maybe have a few drinks and I could fool my heart into thinking that maybe, just maybe we could have more. Then a few nights later I’d watch you hurry to the elevator so you wouldn’t be late for a date.” You closed the distance between you but didn’t touch him. Not yet. “My heart couldn’t take me playing pretend anymore. It hurt too much. So, I started making excuses.”

“And I was doing the same thing, only I was making dates, hoping someone could make me forget about you.”

“How’d that work out for you, DiNozzo?”

He rested a hand along the uninjured side of your face and ran his thumb across your cheek. “Not great. How about you, Y/L/N? Did you manage to get over me?”

“Not even close.”

His smile was radiant.

“Hey, DiNozzo.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Kiss me already.”

#tony dinozzo x reader #anthony dinozzo x reader #tony dinozzo x you #anthony dinozzo imagine #ncis imagine

601 notes · View notes

chalkrevelations · 3 years ago

Text

OK, Word of Honor, Episode 9, and I know last time I got deep in the weeds about symbolism, but this week, I’m getting back to basics and rambling on (and on) about what this show is really about: Zhou Zishou and Wen Kexing and their relationship.

First, though, the usual warning: SPOILERS. Not just for this episode, but potentially for the entire show, so drive past and circle back around later if you want to watch all 36.5 eps unspoiled.

Bear with me on this one, because this ep spends a LOT of time on ZZS and WKX, and I think a lot of that time is ZZS making some Monumental Life Decisions, including how he’s going to proceed in this relationship and how he’s going to approach his life moving forward. But I’m finding myself needing to work through it chronologically, and it’s. A Lot. Also, let’s face it, ZZS has been my ride-or-die at least since he dropped to his knees and started disrobing in the middle of the throne room in Ep 1, so a chance to wallow in his emotional journey is a chance I’m gonna take.

So, we do have a brief opener when we find out Dead Guy who the Yueyang disciple was shrieking about at the end of the last ep is Fang Buzhi, AKA the Nine Clawed Fox, the guy who lifted WKX’s (Danyang) Glazed Armor (along with some replicas). He got got by mysterious somebodies in the previous episode, and we find out now that he has three tiny needles in his neck, which ZZS recognizes as a Tian Chuang technique. This leads ZZS to 1) assume it must have been Han Ying who did it, so the (Danyang) Glazed Armor is now in the hands of Tian Chuang, and 2) realize that maybe this is not the best place for the former leader of Tian Chuang to be hanging out right now, so he makes their excuses, because he knows that Gao Chong must be VERY BUSY now that he’s got this corpse on his hands, so they’ll just BE GOING, thanks so much. Gao Chong hopes to see them at the Hero’s Conference, and WKX responds in a Significant Tone that of course he’ll be at the Hero’s Conference, and now ZZS has his Thinky Face on again, because WKX is not nearly as subtle as he seems to think he is when he’s making Pronouncements.

The ZZS/WKX Show really starts kicking into gear that night, at the Getting Lucky Good Luck Inn, where we open on ZZS wandering contemplatively around his room, looking beautiful in the soft light of evening (your FACE, Zhang Zhehan) and ruminating on Prince Jin’s motives for wanting the Glazed Armor, like he’s never met this power-hungry asshole before. Also, he thinks to himself, wtf was that, with Gao Chong keeping anybody from seeing Chengling in the last ep? There’s a knock on the door, which momentarily confuses him - understandably, because as we’ll see, WKX doesn’t generally get the concept of announcing yourself and waiting to be invited in by knocking first, preferring to dramatically bust open doors (at least to ZZS’s bedroom) and grace you with his presence, whatever your thoughts on the matter are. He’s accompanied by waiters and dinner, and ZZS realizes his senses are going, presumably because he can’t smell this spread that WKX has procured in an attempt to prove what a good provider he is (what did I say about food and bonding? ZZS fed him in the market, and now it’s his turn to feed ZZS). WKX tells us that life is just three hots and a cot - which gives away more about your life than you would likely be comfortable with us knowing, Lao Wen, given how close to the vest you’re holding your cards – and that everything else can wait if you can have a meal with someone you like. :coff: (Also, remember this, it will come around again.)

Cut to dinner by flickering candlelight, the better for soft lighting to caress ZZH’s exquisite face, but ZZS isn’t into it at all, staring into space instead of eating WKX’s proffered Courtship Delicacies. This earns what’s possibly WKX’s most hypocritical and amusing comment yet, which is to ask ZZS, “What is it that you can’t tell me?” ZZS - apparently - is still feeling soft about WKX’s help against Tian Chuang’s Chengling-kidnapping attempt - or maybe he’s thinking that a little bit of opening up on his part will soften up WKX - because he hardly has to have a spoon dug into his ribs at all to admit that he’s wondering if it was a mistake to bring Chengling to Five Lakes Alliance. My dude, just steal him back, then. WKX laughs at him and tells him he’s got such a handsome face (true) along with a kind and innocent heart (false, he’s a former government spook and assassin, a part-time ill-tempered gremlin, and a whole-ass troll), and therefore girls will clearly go crazy for him (true, just ask me). ANYWAY, A-Xu, (WKX continues) now that the requisite random no-homo boilerplate is out of the way, are you really thinking of taking on Chengling as a disciple, because now is apparently not too soon to have the adoption conversation about Our Son. I almost expect him to pull out the adoption papers then and there. Instead, he pulls out a story - which is awkwardly placed and kind of clunky, actually, despite being thematically important - of a dog he had once, given to him by Someone Very Important, although of course he’s not going to say who that was (:facepalm:), and his mother warning him that he’d have to take care of it for life, and then he betrayed it.

So, there’s a lot going on here. We’ll eventually find out that ZZS gave Zhen Yan a puppy, so will this story of a gift dog jog ZZS’s memory into realizing that WKX is Zhen Yan without WKX actually telling him, so that WKX can tell his Bundle of Neuroses that it’s not reeeaaallly WKX’s fault ZZS figured it out? Also, WKX sees ZZS being like this about Chengling, and in the Chengling = Zhen Yan equation we’ve already established, is it possible this will prime ZZS to remember another disciple/young boy he took responsibility for, at one point? Of course, on ZZS’s side of things, it’s possible that hearing about this dog that WKX failed is likely to remind him of the way he failed his own responsibility to all the other disciples of Siji Manor, so, excellent way to take a stab at his heart, WKX! However, ZZS breaks the miserable tone we’ve become mired in by smacking WKX, chiding him for comparing their son to a dog, and getting them drinking. See, here, Chengling is the dog. Earlier, the two sisters A-Xiang rescued were the dog. Later, A-Xiang will be the dog. Unfortunately, WKX is going to have a blind spot and never quite realize that, in the Ghost Valley schema he’s set up, the Department of the Unfaithful is also the dog, but we’ll get to that in later eps. For now, cut to later that night: After dinner and a washup, ZZS sits on his bed, and we get some special effects to indicate that his hearing is also giving him problems, so he deploys his special Nightly Nails Torment meditation pose, and then we get the second instance of WKX playing the xiao to help him meditate and rest. (Junjun, your hands on that xiao …) ANYWAY, we get a gorgeous little bit of physical acting from ZZH here that could easily have been overplayed but is nicely restrained and subtle, with just the slightest smile when ZZS realizes WKX is playing, and then his whole body visibly relaxing as he allows himself to sink into WKX’s now-familiar musical embrace the meditation. It is :chef’s kiss:

Cut to next AM, when ZZS is now a very cranky boy, and I get this, because I also am exceedingly irritated when people bust into the room where I’m sleeping with an abundance of cheerfulness and try to get me to interact and do things without at least half an hour to creep my way out of bed, two cups of coffee, and an hour of silence before any attempts to converse like a reasonable human being (I’m looking at YOU, mom), and I don’t even have the excuse of seven Nails pinning me. Also, when WKX whips off the blankets, we learn that ZZH dresses to the right. :hands: I’m just making an observation. So, WKX wants to go to Yuefan Tower like some kind of wide-eyed tourist, and despite some smacking and scowling and death threats, we then smash-cut to the Tower, where ZZS has apparently come to the conclusion that the only way to deal with the ADHD gremlin crawling into his bed is to humor him about this daytrip. I think you could have come up with some more creative ideas that didn’t involve leaving bed, but I guess you’re not the fast one in this relationship, Zhou-ge. Srsly, though, I’m sure WKX would have been happy to do all the work, my dude. (I don’t always have strong top-bottom preferences, but you probably aren’t going to have much luck convincing me that ZZS is not a pillow princess who wants to just lay back and be spoiled. “Aren’t you a very capable man?” indeed. WKX has to do ALL THE WORK, god. I don’t know if I’m swimming against the current here – god knows I was in Inception fandom, where I felt the same way about Eames - but here we are.) Also, I can’t believe WKX didn’t just sit in the bedroom and creep on A-Xu’s beautiful sleeping profile for at least the amount of time it would have taken to drink a pot of tea, another viable option if it was me in this scenario. Tch. What kind of stalker are you, Lao Wen?

ANYWAY, at Yuefang Tower, ZZS tells us about the Four Sages of Anji, a senior-citizen polycule of soulmates who are, conveniently, at this very moment, on a boat in the lake beside the tower, playing music and sword-dancing. This is the first time they’ve been seen in 10+ years, after they put down their various swords and ran off together to live like hippies off-the-grid in the woods, probably skipping around naked, drinking “tea,” and having lots of sex. ZZS sighs wistfully while recounting this tale and calls them “a breath of fresh air.” There’s some discussion and poetry quoting and literary references to soulmates, and somewhere in here we get a shot of ZZS and WKX from behind which makes it super-obvious how hard they’re working the costumes to make Gong Jun look as broad as possible. He’s got the power shoulders on this set of robes, compared to Laopo ZZS’s soft, unstructured, flowing robes, and with those shoulders tapering down to the belted waist, they’ve got Junjun seriously working the Chris Evans Dorito silhouette. Meanwhile, focus back on their conversation: ZZS thinks that “the world is not important, finding a soulmate is,” giving some MAJOR FORESHADOWING for the end of the show (which we are accepting as “Ep” 37 because WE ARE), when we get that icy separation from the rest of the world but they have each other. WKX gives him a yearning look. ZZS looks back … there’s really no other way to put this … coyly, not meeting WKX’s gaze directly. This offers WKX and us a chance to admire his profile once again, thank you, Laopo. ZZS waits until WKX looks back out at the lake before looking at him directly, and his face journey, y’all. He’s thinking that it might not be bad to spend his remaining time with this soulmate, I think he’s starting to re-think the slow suicide, and he’s also thisclose to just letting WKX have him. Y’all, he seriously wants WKX so bad, here. It may be the first time we’ve seen this level of interest from him - it may be the first time, in all that we’ve seen of him, that he allows himself to even have that kind of interest. I think this is the next big step from Ep 6, when he allowed himself to enjoy being desired - now he’s allowing himself to desire, to want something again, other than a chance to drink himself to death in the gutter. This, right here, is a crucial point when he makes the decision to spend whatever time he’s got left living rather than just dying, and I’m flailing on the couch. This is the face of a man who’s ready to Make Some Declarations while getting railed within an inch of his life. SOMEONE IS GETTING SOME TONIGHT. Or he would if he wasn’t going to turn out to be such a fuckup. FFS, WKX.

But first, we cut to a scene of them back at the marketplace, wandering through as WKX mocks various sects in town for the conference – including the Mount Hua boys, who apparently look like virgins make their first trip to a brothel – and ZZS supplies background info on them. WKX asks if ZZS can tell what sect WKX is from, and ZZS calls him a messy bitch before asking if WKX can please stop making him play guessing games about everything and just tell him what WKX so clearly wants ZZS to know. (I know, right? But no, because then WKX might get what he wants, and he’s way too terrified for that, so you have to guess. That way, it’s not his fault when you figure out who he is and reject him, as anyone clearly will do because he’s unlovable and unforgiveable and not even really human, A-Xu.) WKX immediately changes the subject to ramble about the Hero’s Conference and how laughable all the sects are for wanting to be seen as heroes, blah blah blah, rinse and repeat. ZZS comments that only inexperienced people want to be heroes, that experienced people know “every character of the word hero is written in blood,” and yes, the character they’re using for hero, “ying,” is still the same character used in Han Ying’s name (which is not, by the way, the “ying” used in Wei Ying’s name, to cross streams for a moment). ZZS says he’s too old to be a hero (I and my knees feel you, my dude), now he’s just a wanderer, and he asks if WKX wants to be a hero or a wanderer, and WKX says that as a wanderer, all he needs is ZZS, and I’m telling you, someone absolutely would be getting some tonight if only he wasn’t such a fuckup, Lao Wen.

I’m’a try to wrap this up soon, because it’s gotten v. long, but we then cut to that night at the Getting Lucky Inn, ZZS drinking in his room, WKX busting in with his usual dramatic flair, with wine, inviting ZZS up to the roof to drink and look at the moon. He clearly has ulterior motives, but unfortunately for everyone, we’re going to discover they’re not the ulterior motives ZZS is expecting. As they lean back on the roof together, hands almost-but-not-quite touching, a romantic tune playing, WKX tells ZZS that he’s like, really happy! Just super happy! So happy! Ask me why I’m so happy, A-Xu! Spoiler alert: It is, unfortunately, not because he’s getting ready to get some from his laopo. This is particularly unfortunate, because ZZS chooses this moment to take another big step in this relationship, telling WKX that he’s not going to ask about things WKX doesn’t want to tell him, that he’ll wait for whatever WKX wants to tell him. On the surface, this comes off a little bit like, I’m done with asking when you’re not going to answer anyway, but in context – particularly on the back of the earlier scene when ZZS watched WKX turn on a dime and immediately change the subject to avoid exposing anything when ZZS asked WKX to stop making him guess everything – this is as good as a declaration of going all-in. ZZS is committing to this relationship on faith, without having all – or even most – of the answers about WKX, and his approach is going to be to wait until WKX is ready to reveal whatever information he feels safe and comfortable revealing. In practice, he’s going to end up being better or worse at this, depending on the day, but what it reminds me of, already, is that moment in the 20s (Ep 21? 22?) when A-Xiang and Cao Weining are arguing about her killing the beggar guy, he approaches her, she yells at him and points to the ground to indicate exactly how close he’s allowed to get to her, and his respect of that boundary she lays down is instantaneous and absolute. That’s what ZZS is saying he’s going to at least try to do, here. It also reminds me of the way he’s going to respect WKX’s decision on whether or not WKX is going to claim his place as a disciple of Siji Manor, without it affecting their relationship, so we really are starting as ZZS means to go on, here.

Unfortunately, we then find out that what WKX is actually so happy about is that his plan to burn down the jianghu is starting its next big step, and their romantic evening is interrupted by a bunch of dudes fighting and killing each other over a bunch of fake Glazed Armor. WKX mentions that he’s so happy the show’s started; he’s alternately amused, satisfied, and smug as they watch various fights; he seems to be expecting ZZS to also be amused; and I feel like the implication is that this was his real motive for inviting ZZS out onto the roof, to be able to watch this show with him. ZZS – who’s spent enough time standing ankle-deep in blood for six lifetimes and was working hard just a few weeks ago at drinking himself to death to try to forget what that feels like - is displeased and horrified, rather than very proud of what WKX has accomplished; he pushes WKX away from him when WKX approaches him to ask if he doesn’t think it’s all so very amusing; and he calls WKX crazy, then turns his back on him and walks away. To make things worse, the next morning, after WKX brings breakfast to ZZS’s room and actually knocks, only to find that ZZS has left in the middle of the night, WKX will witness an angry mob gathered outside the house in the woods where the Four Sages of Anji are staying for the Hero’s Conference, demanding a piece of the Glazed Armor the Sages are supposedly holding for Gao Chong, and eventually leading to the deaths of all four of these peaceful aging hippies whose commune in the woods was ZZS’s ultimate dream, leaving WKX horrified by the fact that his actions have consequences, including some that are going to make his boyfriend even more pissed off at him.

SO. All that happened. There were some other people in the episode, too:

We see A-Xiang and Cao Weining having lunch. She asks him why he’s not eating, calls him fat and cute, then proceeds to tell him about Ghoul, who likes to eat the faces of pretty boys. Her conversation skills could still use some work. Cao Weining vows to kill the ghosts of Ghost Valley who would do such awful things. A-Xiang actually ignores this slander about the evil of the residents of the Ghost Valley in a way that she doesn’t usually – usually she looks kind of unhappy when the Evilness of the Evil Inhabitants of the Evil Ghost Valley comes up, going all the way back to ZZS’s comments in Ep 2. Right now, she’s too busy pumping Pooh Bear for information, asking about why the Ghost Valley would have left a pile of heads on Yueyang’s doorstep if the Five Lakes Alliance is so great, so what is Five Lakes going to maybe, perhaps, do about this? Cao-dage is suspicious … that A-Xiang might be scared, but don’t worry, he’ll protect her. Oh, sweetheart. I could eat you up with a spoon, right along with Ghoul. Also, it finally registers that A-Xiang called him cute, but she has to step away for a quick confab with a henchwoman.

We also have to watch Chengling get bullied some more by a Yueyang shixiong who I think is Gao Shan, who we’ll later see bullying some prisoners in the Yueyang dungeon as he admits that he’s doing it to relieve his own frustrations and make himself feel better - fantastic disciples you’ve got there, Gao Chong, I’m super-impressed by the morality and ethics you’re instilling as a sect. Once again, I have to consider WKX’s position on the jianghu as a hive of scum and villainy. Anyway, once Bullying Hour is over, Chengling runs into A-Xiang, and he can’t manage to prevent the waterworks as he confesses that he thought he’d never see any of them again and that ZZS didn’t want him. UGH. Zhou Zishu, come and get your child back. He’s at least somewhat mollified by Xiang-jie telling him she’s been sent to take care of him, and god knows she’s managed to keep WKX fed and clothed this long, so she has some experience as a minder, as counterintuitive as that seems.

We get a quick shot of Han Ying (My Beloved) with two identical pieces of Glazed Armor, apparently realizing that there are fakes out there.

Deng Kuan shows up, beaten and stumbling, and nearly gets turned away at the front gates of his own sect as a beggar – have I mentioned how unimpressed I am by the Yueyang disciples? Deng Kuan appears to be the only one of them worth anything – before they realize who he is. He is put to bed and tenderly nursed by Gao Xiaolian, who cries over him as he won’t wake up.

Finally, Gao Chong, Shen Shen and Zhao Jing (uh-huh) are horrified to discover that there’s fake Glazed Armor fk’n everywhere in town, making Five Lakes Alliance look ridiculous, which is just fabulous as the Hero’s Conference is coming up, guys. Shen Shen, because everything is a nail, vows to kill anyone who makes problems. Later, Hei Zi, who plays Gao Chong, has an utterly fantastic moment after the deaths of the Four Sages (wow, I did not remember that we wrapped up their entire storyline within a single ep), when he’s haranguing Beggar Gang Chief and is literally all, “You want the Glazed Armor? :pulls a piece out of his robe: HERE. You want some more? :pulls another piece out of his robe: TAKE IT.” It’s a great acting moment, his delivery is perfection.

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #zhang chengling #gu xiang #cao weining #han ying #deng kuan #gao chong #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

22 notes · View notes

xbunnybunz · 4 years ago

Text

always maybe never [wolf keum x reader]

Summary: A story in which you love Wolf Keum, and maybe he likes you back.

Genre: Romance, Angst, One-sided romance

Date: December 27, 2020

-----

“They took my glasses,” He said.

He looked pissed.

You watched him blankly, taking in his bruises, the scrapes and the blood.

“Did you lose?” It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and boy does that get him worked up.

“No.” He snaps, louder than before. Maybe be regrets it, maybe he’s tired, but he lowers his volume immediately after. “No. I fucking didn’t.”

Silence falls over the both of you. Over you, drenched, standing over him in a moldy, stinking alley. Over him, shielded from the rain with your umbrella, lip busted and knuckles bruised.

The red and blue lights of a police car soaring through the night carry into the alley. It throws hues of neon colors upon Wolf’s face, he’s so belligerent even like this, you think you might just leave him here.

“If you’re done asking me questions, you can fuck right off now.”

He’s a nasty little thing, but the way his eyes glint like diamonds in the sliver of yellowed streetlights intrigue you.

“How long were you planning to stay here then?”

He doesn’t respond. Shifts half an inch away from you, like he kinda wants you to leave and also not really.

“It’s real cold out tonight.” You say. And he looks seriously hurt, but you don’t say this aloud. You wonder what the fight was about, if it was worth ending up next to a dumpster for.

You move closer, kneel so you’re eye-level with him despite his adamancy to not even glance in your direction. The moon bounces light off his damp hair, first silver, then purple. The city lights tend to play tricks on your eyes.

“Let’s get somewhere warm, alright?”

You present a palm to him, face up and already starting to pool with rainwater.

It hangs in the air for a long moment, long enough for you to begin to retract it. But then he reaches out and grabs it, a large, calloused hand wrapping over your own. Even in the chill of twilight, a warmth blossoms there.

“You’re fucking annoying.” Is all he says.

You roll your eyes and hoist him up to the best of your ability, which included almost dislocating your elbow as he slowly picked himself up. It’s only when the top of his head hits your umbrella do you realize how much bigger he is than you.

“Here, you should take this.” You hold out the umbrella to him. He takes it wordlessly, placing it right between the both of you. He’s shivering, despite his best efforts to hide it, you can feel the tremor of his body when it brushes against yours for that golden split second.

You look up at him, eyeballing the furrow of his brows, the slight twitch of his lip, eyes cast somewhere far into a long distance. Just what was he looking away from?

You make it to a nearby hole-in-the-wall eatery without serious injury. He flops down onto the seat like a wet fish and grills the patrons who look at him funny.

“Play nice.” You hum, moving beside him and drying him out as best you could with takeout napkins.

He grunts and exhales deep and heavy from his nostrils, hair matted to his forehead and neck. You dab at it, wondering if the purple color would bleed like cheap tye-dye. Of course, it doesn’t.

“You have such an interesting taste.” You coo. Fingers find strands of hair and pinch, rolling.

He turns his head slightly to meet your gaze, eyes cold yet burning. Like this hasn’t happened before, like he hasn’t absolutely taken you apart and pieced you back together before.

“I know.”

Just those two words are enough to send electricity down your spine. You pull away before you’re zapped by this high voltage man.

You take a seat but never break eye contact with him.

The low buzz of the yellowed restaurant lights above you hum life into your fingertips, into your ears, into your heart. It’s nauseating to see the dark red and purple bruising on his cheek and browbone.

“You should find some hobbies,” You offer, voice quieter now. “Like knitting, or something.”

Your lips begin to quirk up, but his straight face drains you of that energy.

“Maybe later.” He says, and you remind yourself to start keeping a tally of each time he says that.

“Right.” You look down at your lap and laugh, but it sounds dry. “Let’s eat, and then I’ll bring you home.”

He doesn’t argue.

The next time you see him, he’s got his glasses again. He’s still scuffed from the last fight but at least he can walk straight now.

“Are you alone?” You ask, bumping hips with him behind the slushie machine.

He takes one crinkling bag of chips off the shelf, cellophane crackling under his fingers. There’s a black motorcycle helmet wedged under his arm and he’s got his riding sneakers on.

“Yeah.”

You peek at the door and true to his word, you only spot his motorbike and pedestrians cursing how it was parked.

“That’s rare,” You tease. You’re standing close to him, so you dare to brush your pinky against his. Nearly have a heart attack when he hooks his with yours.

You look up at him but he’s not looking at you. To anyone who wasn’t watching for a sign, he’d just be pondering the selection. But you were watching, always watching for anything. A glance, a flutter, a chance that he was really there with you.

Today, he’s generous. Staring straight ahead, he graces you with a slight upward curve of his lips. Just a bit, just enough to dimple his cheek, just enough for you.

Play it coy. You pull away from him and tiptoe between the fridges with a sway in your step. You pray and pray he’s following you. When you catch sight of his figure in the reflection of a coffee pot, you feel like a million bucks.

“Ah, I wonder what I should get for tonight.”

You don’t mind that you’re in the unthawed hams section because you know he’s not paying attention anyways. He’s just relying on muscle memory while you agonize over all your movements, you’ve both been through this a hundred times.

Right on beat, he asks the question you’ve been praying for.

“Do you need a ride home?”

His shoulders look broader when he rolls them, the red school blazer stretching and falling back into place. He has no idea how mad he drives you.

“Oh, I guess that’d be nice.”

He smirks, a wicked smile.

Or maybe he does.

You love riding on his motorcycle because everything smells like him, but you guess that’s easy when your face is buried in his hair and the crook of his neck.

Every time you wrap your arms around his waist, you hold onto him like you’ll lose him. One of these days, you swear you will. Sometimes you catch him throwing a glance over his shoulder, and sometimes you wonder if today’s the day he’ll finally tell you to let go. But it never is.

The wind whips about the both of you and blisters your cheeks with the cold. He’s slowed down, and you love it because you know he rides like a demon without you.

The city lights zip by you like fireflies in the distance, the glow of commercial buildings dwindling to zero as you enter the residential area. The scrape of rubber tires on concrete pavement makes people peep out their windows, tongue in cheek, before closing the blinds.

“How are you back there?” He asks at a red light, voice muffled from under his helmet.

“Warm.” You lie. Kind of.

His chest moves in rippling motion that might’ve been a chuckle, might’ve been a cough. And he’s off again. Your eyes close and you hold him closer to you, feel his body and heartbeat against yours, breathe in the smell of his cologne, his bodywash. For the few minutes you’re on the back of his bike, there is only you and him in the universe.

It always ends a second sooner than you remember it should, and it makes you wonder if he’s riding faster or if you’re too eager. He shakes out his helmet hair and helps you off the bike like a proper gentleman, rare for someone as unruly as Wolf Keum.

“Thanks.” You say, and peer at him through your lashes, batting them slowly. You’re feeling cold and emboldened tonight, so you’re hoping he’ll take the bait.

He reaches out, long fingers brushing aside your windswept hair. He traces your jaw and it feels like home, like victory, like you’ve almost got him where you want him.

The warm lights of your house illuminate his face softly and silhouettes his more angular, predatory features. It brings out the Wolf Keum you know and you yearn to keep him like this forever, away from the bloody knuckles and broken bones that make him so sharp to hold.

“Do you want to come in?”

His eyes are calm, barely a trace of emotion save for keen interest. You pray to all the gods that he’ll come in just this once, after so many nights of being left empty handed. For a second, you think the heavens have heard you when he misses his cue to shake his head like every other time. His hesitation is dizzying, and the adrenaline that pumps through you overpowers even the motorbike ride.

He ponders for just a second too long, and his phone rings.

It snaps both of you out of the reverie. From where you stand, you can see the caller ID. Donald Na.

Wolf turns away and takes a step towards his bike to pick up the call. You can’t help the hand that goes out after him. When he looks back to you, he gestures to his phone.

“Maybe later.” He mouths.

And you smile and nod, because that’s what you always do. You watch as he pulls on his helmet and gets on the bike, idle chatter falling from his lips and into the receiver. When he drives away, the exhaust from his bike billows behind him and clouds your vision with smoke. You return home without knowing if he’d waved goodbye.

It’s a temperate day when you speak to him next.

You’re sitting in the park waiting for Wolf, shaded by trees and warmed by the sun. You’ve left the remainders of your croissant on the floor and it’s become a meal for a flurry of pigeons, cooing and flocking by our feet. An ant crawls up to your sneaker, confused with the obstruction. You’re entertained by it’s strange dancing for a few moments before a shadow crosses your vision.

“Hey.” He says.

You smile. “Hey yourself.”

He exhales through his nose in a manner that you assume is amusement.

You pat the seat next to you and he eases himself onto it, stretching out his legs and sending some pigeons head-bobbing awkwardly away from him.

Mindlessly, you note that he’s abandoned his blazer today, opting to tie it around his waist instead.

Birds chirp overhead and the grass tickles your ankles. There’s the sound of children laughing and the rushing of a fountain a ways from you.

He’s relaxed. You can tell from the way he’s kicking his feet.

You peek at where his hands are and notice that they’re close enough to feel his warmth, but don’t miss the bandages on his knuckles and forearms.

“You’ve been busy?” You ask. You pretend it’s a joke but it’s not actually.

He raises his arm and regards it as if it doesn’t break your heart to see him like this. “This? It��s nothing. Some shithead thought using a pocket-knife would hold us off.”

Something in your chest twists.

“That’s funny.”

He hums in agreement and you want to choke him for it.

You let the sounds of the park ease your mind and his. Wonder silently if there’s even a point to all of this heartache, this outlandish game of who-gives-less-fucks anymore.

Beside you, Wolf leans back and lets the sunlight wash over his face, his neck, his chest.

His eyes are closed, but you can see his eyelids fluttering slightly, like he wants to look into the sun but the brightness scares him. His messy lavender hair sweeps over his forehead and spills over his ears, just brushing the nape of his neck with soft curls. It’s nearly concealed, but you can see a faint line of a scar peeking out at you. Just past his adams apple, trailing upwards to his jaw. When he first got it, he refused to say where or how it had happened, but you’d be a fool to not know only metal and gems cut so deep.

This isn’t the only scar he adorns. You’ve memorized the marks he has lining his body like constellations; switchblade starry sky and cigarette burn borealis. In the sun, you can see the endless expanse of marks on his skin like a splatter of cursed stars. There’s far too many for you to count, so you turn away and rest your eyes.

It remains like this for a moment longer, but then he says something that surprises you.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

Your head snaps towards him, blink and situate yourself further in your seat, wondering if you had somehow fallen asleep and wandered into a dream.

Wolf nods once and the action is slow, like he’s still churning the words in his head.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “Everything about this situation is... Strange.”

He picks up a hand and gazes at it, brows furrowed. He clenches a fist and unclenches it, turning it this way and that in the light of the sun.

“But say I do leave, right? Then what will I have left to do? My school life is shot, and no one dares to approach me.”

He drops his hand and looks at the clouds rolling lazily over the blue sky.

“If I leave, what will I have left?”

You almost want to laugh, almost want to cry, or maybe do both at the same time. You want to ask him if he remembers who is speaking to at all, but you cannot find the courage.

Suddenly, he looks in your direction and that peaceful yet painful moment is over. A strange look crosses his face and you can feel him tensing, back becoming just a bit straighter.

As you turn, the sound of a hundred of flapping wings taking off meets your ears. The shadows of pigeons in flight scatter across grass and the park path, crossing over the figures approaching briefly before ascending skyward.

The first foot to emerge from the shadows belongs to a tall blond hair with sharp eyes, followed by three or so other men.

You stare, but he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction.

“Keum, didn’t expect to see you in this part of Yeongduengpo.”

Wolf remains reticent. You look at him but he won’t take his eyes off of Donald.

Donald raises a hand to gesture to Wolf and you don’t miss the way his silver rings glint in the midday sun, all precious metal and shining gemstone. When he speaks, it’s almost a hiss.

“Come, I have last week’s reports to discuss with you.”

He doesn’t move from beside you, but you can hear him swallow thickly.

Donald begins to stroll again, the men beside him following suit. As he passes Wolf, he fails to even regard you and it makes you feel tiny.

A second passes as he holds his gaze with Wolf, it’s a challenge to disobey and it’s not at all unfamiliar to you. Those dreary nights Wolf has spent with you, both a man and a husk of a man, is because of Donald Na. It is within this essential and excruciating second that his behavior either becomes normal or abnormal, dictates whether he steeps deeper into that endless black sea or fights amidst the raging storm.

In this second, you hope he remembers himself, hope he remembers you. Those endless nights you’ve spent picking up pieces of his shattered self, putting him back together and brushing over the cracks with adoration. Those endless nights you’ve spent despairing for him, for yourself, for all the tears you’ve cried when trying to convince yourself this won’t get any better.

You hope that he proves you wrong this one time, hope that in his heart, he knows he’ll always have you.

But when you feel him pull his hand from yours, you already understand his answer.

You’re acquainted with this sensation in your throat, this burning in the back of your eyes. It’s made a home in your heart, barren since the day you ever laid eyes on Wolf Keum.

Still, a final flame of hope flickers within you.

You grab his hand just before he’s out of reach. When he looks back, he’s all sharp teeth and hard eyes but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“Can we…” You want to speak, but your tongue feels leaden and dry. “Can we speak about this soon?”

Wolf’s face remains the blasé, brows set in a furrow and lips downturned into just the slightest scowl.

To a passerby who wasn’t looking for signs, he may seem apathetic, annoyed, even. But you were no passerby. For Wolf Keum, you’d always be willing. Waiting. Watching. For a glance, for a flutter, for anything that meant you hadn’t been the only one foolishly in love the entire time.

And for a second, you think he regards you with a gleam in his eye, something that resembles sorrow, or regret, or anything else that may ease the stale aching of your heart. But when he opens his mouth, it’s that same damning line again, that empty promise that keeps you stumbling in darkness for a trace of salvation.

“Maybe later.”

It will only ever be Wolf Keum that you allow yourself to be swindled by every time. You promise yourself this. Release his hand, or he pulls it away from you. You cannot tell which came first.

“I understand.” You say, heart breaking again.

You never will.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #wolf keum #seongji geum #wolf keum x reader #reader insert #fanfiction

117 notes · View notes

scribbleseas · 3 years ago

Text

Unfiltered, Chapter 2: A Little White Lie

Description: You are a freshly graduated cadet of the 104th Training Corps with charisma and beauty to spare. Sleeping with three very different men pushes you into the center of the most complicated web of secrets and lies that can only be unraveled by one thing: the truth. The same truth that you hide at every turn to shield your carefully crafted exterior and the future of your unborn child.

Story Warnings: Explicit content: detailed descriptions of unprotected sex, really just a lot of sex, so if smut makes you uncomfy, this isn’t the fic for you! Accidental pregnancy, vomiting, cursing, slut-shaming, mentions of blood, angst with a bittersweet ending, hinted abandonment issues, mentions of a terminal illness.

Chapter Warnings: No chapter warnings that I can think of!

Author’s Note: Thank you for all of the support on the first chapter of this story! It was heartwarming to see. (Also, Eren and the rest of the 104th are aged up in this fic!!)

Happy Reading!

- Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

Daily training within the Scout Corps was rigorous on its own, but the added challenge of maneuvering with sore limbs and a battered core was excruciating, the pain nagging you with every step, a bitter reminder of your lack of orgasm and the same inappropriate argument with your superior.

Everything about Captain Levi was infuriating- his indifference, the way he can simply ignore you outside of sex and orders. Sex and orders- was there even a difference between the two at this point? He couldn’t keep casting you off as an afterthought if he wanted this to continue, which he did. It was either you or a cold midnight jerk-off, and you knew he’d do anything to avoid the latter. Meanwhile, you had options and quite a few at that.

Since the end of March, the weather was quickly picking up to a warmer, sunnier disposition- which meant training was outside once again. Squads were put into training groups, conversing with each other and going through warm-up drills while you took the time to subtly look over your comrades, searching for a proper candidate to dangle yourself in front of.

You halfheartedly pulled your right arm across your body to appear busy to avoid a harsh scolding from a superior for being lazy. Out of all the scouts, the cadets from the 104th Training Corps were the best candidates, simply for their lack of prestige. Levi wouldn’t care if you picked any scout or any other officer, but you knew he’d notice if you liked someone that he considered below him.

Someone he had yet to respect.

Particularly…

Your eyes landed on Eren Jaeger- a friend of yours and, fortunately, the titan shifter who Levi was tasked with keeping an eye on for the time being. Eren was always easily flustered- to the point you had suspected he had a crush on you during your training days. Reigniting those feelings with a smile and a few strategic touches should be more than enough to coax him into bed; sooner than later.

“Hey, Eren!” you chirped, approaching the shifter without entertaining another thought. He was conversing with his two closest friends- Mikasa and Armin when he was supposed to be training with Levi’s squad. “Mikasa, Armin,” you addressed, mainly to avoid being rude.

“Y/n, hey. How are you?” Eren grinned, his shoulders straightening as you stood before him, completing the subconscious triangle that he had made in the midst of conversation. You could feel Mikasa’s stare bear into your side profile, glaring. Her arms crossed before you approached, but her hands curled into firm firsts, tightening the longer you stood there.

“Could you help me stretch?” You asked. “Yesterday’s training made me really stiff,” your words were half true since a lot of your body was sore and painful to maneuver, but it wasn’t from training. You were in pain from the toll that pleasuring Levi took as you vividly recalled his firm grip trapping your wrists down, and his body kept your leg up throughout the entire ordeal.

A little white lie never hurt anyone.

“I would, but...” although you expected Eren’s response to be instantaneous, you had been wrong. Instead, the shifter looked from you to Squad Levi- where he needed to report to, conflicted between having free access to touching you and to his duty as a soldier. His will wasn’t that strong, given that he was only a pent-up eighteen-year-old guy when it came down to it.

“Please,” you tilted your head, offering a meek smile to suggest that you were embarrassed to ask for help. “It’ll only be a few minutes.”

“I-” Eren, throat bobbed as he swallowed, blind to the concerned look that Armin was giving him. “Sure. What can I do?” He asked, his metaphorical armor falling to the ground. Confidence takes one a long way.

“Let’s go to the grass,” you suggested, gesturing to the large patch where other scouts were preparing for the day by also stretching, some in pairs.

“Alright- I’ll...see you guys at dinner,” Eren waved to Mikasa and Armin and quickly followed you as you led him to an empty spot. The spot was well in Levi’s view but far enough to give you plausible deniability.

“We’ll save you a spot!” Armin yelled, his voice nearly out of earshot to you. He was referring to Eren, anyways. You sat with your class because you were the most familiar with them, not because you were a part of their close (top ten) band.

“It’s mainly in my legs- I might’ve landed awkwardly at some point yesterday,” you mused, slowly laying down on the warm grass. The sun shined in your eyes, causing you to squint at Eren as he sank to his knees to avoid having too big of a gap between you. “Can you push my legs down?” you requested, bringing the soles of your brown boots together and a few inches away from your groin.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve done this for..um, Krista, before...so I think I know what to do,” Eren’s face grew red as he kneed in front of you, his thighs clamping your feet in place, which kept your legs bent and fanned out. His hands were much larger than Levi’s and warmer, too, as they pressed down on the sides of your kneecaps, unintentionally teasing your lower thighs. Eren was too naive to know how to tease, and in all honesty, he was more gentle than you deserved.

“That’s kind of you,” you commented, growing disinterested in the conversation and instead focusing on the delicious stretch that Eren was giving your hips and inner thigh muscles. He was staring down at his hands, focusing on the way your supple muscles moved and tensed each time he pushed down. You both knew that his hands were a little higher than they should’ve been for that particular stretch. “How about my quadriceps?” You gave Eren’s hands a soft tap, and he allowed you to move onto your stomach.

Eren’s breath hitched rather noticeably, and you imagined that his gaze was now trained on your ass, the definition of it clear from your tight uniform trousers. “You know what to do, right?” you asked, feigning complete ignorance as to what you were doing and how it affected him.

“Oh- yeah, I do,” Eren moved slowly, his left hand coming down on your lower back first, flirting with the curve of your ass. His right took hold of your right kneecap. He slowly pulled the muscle upwards while pushing down on your back.

“Don’t let me kick you,” you joked to release a little of the building tension since your raised knee was bent under his lunging body, leaving the toe of your boot little ways under his chin. You rested on your elbows to support your upper body, taking the time to look to the side, where Levi watched you from his group. Watching was in fact, an understatement because his meticulous eyes narrowed, focused on the positioning of Eren’s hands. That expression caused satisfaction to bloom in your chest, the thrill comparable to the good pain that this stretch provided you.

Eren chuckled and, after a few more seconds, switched which leg he was stretching. You were flexible, and as tempted as you were to tell him that, you refrained. A little went a long way, and too much could scare him off. “I’m sure I could take you if you did,” Eren replied, pushing your back down firmly, causing your back to crack. It hurt, but ultimately, the sensation was euphoric- the closest to orgasm you’ve been in days.

The short whine that slipped past your lips made no effort to hide that fact. Although the sound (and volume) were unintentional, it caused a few people to look in your direction, driving your face to color. You pretended not to take notice of Levi’s glare and instead looked ahead of you as Eren switched legs. As shameless as you could be, even you had your limits, drawing the line around voyeurism. In an attempt to regain control of the situation, you laughed at yourself, praying that each chuckle sounded more natural than forced as you let your head dip.

“You really have done this before, haven’t you?” You teased, turning the heat back onto Eren, who faltered at the dirty insinuation. The noise of protest was more than enough confirmation that he hadn’t done anything beyond innocent stretching, which would make this much more fun for you.

“That’s not-...come on, let’s get to our squads before Captain Levi gives me an earful,” Eren dismissed. You would have to be obtuse not to notice how his hands lagged in coming off your body- particularly the one that pushed down on your lower back.

You were more likely to get an earful from Levi than Eren was, anyway.

“Oh, alright,” you said with a soft laugh, groaning as you got to your feet. The pain in your legs had yet to subside completely, but the dutiful stretching did help soothe it some. “Save me a seat in the mess hall later, yeah?” You requested, arching your eyebrows as you gave your shoulders a slow roll.

“Uh- yeah, sure,” Eren stumbled over his words as you already began walking back towards your training squad, dispersing with the rest of the scouts that were using the large patch of grass to warm up for the hard day’s labor properly.

. . .

Eren did indeed save a seat for you on his left side, Armin usually sat, but instead, the blond took the seat across from Eren without a problem. Mikasa merely watched you as you pulled out the chair, her face completely sober while you put your metal tray down in front of you with a soft clink.

“Hey guys,” you smiled, freshly showered, your hair tied back lazily. Despite having expended a year’s worth of energy on training in the heat, the food on your tray (a cut of bread and a little bowl of potato soup) was the last thing on your mind. Instead, you were more focused on formulating a plan. A phase two, if you will.

“Oh- Y/n, hey,” Armin greeted you first, offering a wary smile as if he was trying to talk down a gunman. You weren’t sure if that was something to be offended by or not, seeing as Armin was a skittish soldier to begin with.

“How did training go?” you decided to take his hesitance as a compliment, a testament to the strength of the faux certitude you expressed. Boldly sitting next to Eren was the key to this interaction, and if it went according to plan, you’d have him that night. That was record time when you compared it to the weeks of batting your eyelashes and flirting about you wasted on seducing Levi. Your crush on him was only physical, and he was the subject of the wettest of your dreams- seemingly impossible. The chase was supposed to be worth the quality of the catch, and yet, last night was the final straw. “It wuzsh goof,” Eren answered for Armin, his mouth full with a bite of bread that he devoured. His cheeks bulged with it, but you suspected that he only intervened to remind you that he was there, as if you could forget. “Tirin-g,” he admitted, swallowing down the piece of it.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mikasa admonished from her seat on Eren’s right. She never spoke to you directly unless she had to for the legion, and as much as you tried in the past, she made no effort to budge. “You’ll choke.”

“I won’t choke, Mikasa. I’m not a kid,” Eren argued defensively, his voice rising to subtly accuse her of not trusting his abilities. He sent her a fast glare that you wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t looking at him.

“They were pretty hard on us today,” you purposely changed the conversation back to the original topic to fill the silence that followed the awkwardly unbalanced dynamic of Eren and Mikasa. “Squad Leader Finn had my group do several rounds of interval training before we even touched our gear,” you complained, shuddering at the memory of the rocky soil pressing into your palms each time you pushed your legs back to plank. The skin was raw and pink, and it particularly stung when you exposed it to lukewarm shower water and bar soap.

“They’re just trying to keep us sharp. You know titans are always more active during the spring and summer,” Eren said, “Section Commander Hanji hasn’t let up with her experiments, though. She asked me for a lock of my hair this morning.”

“I think that’s pretty tame for Section Commander Hanji,” you joked, breaking off a flake of the crusty outer layer of the bread to prop in your mouth. It was primarily stale, but you appreciated the warmth that seeped on your tongue.

“She could’ve made an even cut,” Eren mumbled as he finished off his cut of bread, gesturing to his sideburn, where there was indeed a chunk of his brown hair missing.

You chuckled at the comment as some of the other cadets from your grade populated the long table- Connie Springer was making some shoddy impression of Commander Erwin. At the same time, Sasha Blouse nearly dropped her tray of food from laughter, utterly with Jean Kirsten rolling his eyes at their antics. Even Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover took to the isolated end of the table to speak to each other, albeit Reiner’s gaze traveling to Krista Lenz every handful of seconds. Your comrades were very predictable on a day-to-day basis, which was one of the many reasons why you weren’t close with most of them. People tended to bore you quickly, which left something to be desired, more often than not.

The conversation at this dining table rarely included you, as you preferred to sit passively and wait for the exact moment to make your next move, which was slightly less predictable than your interaction that morning.

You picked up your soup bowl, the metal circumference small enough for you to be able to wrap your hands around it and have your fingers touch. The soup itself was watered down and bland as you thoughtlessly swirled it around with the bottom of your spoon, frowning at it. Before your mother left, she made it with heavy cream and tiny slivers of smoked bacon. The only thing that had in common with the food sitting in front of you was the use of potatoes.

Rather than dwelling on that woman, you turned your sights back to Eren. Getting him to want you was a goal you concluded that morning and now, you only needed him to act on it. Which he wouldn’t without your provoking him.

Purposely, you fumbled with the bowl of watery ‘soup’ and watched it fall, the warm contents spilling down your shirt and landing on Eren’s lap from your proximity. Since the rest of the table was engaged in watching Connie attempt to impersonate Oluo Bozado, a member of Levi’s Squad. Until the sound of your metal bowl hitting the floor (as well as your surprised yelp) caught their attention.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying any attention,” you explained, instantaneously rounding your eyes to make your apology seem entirely genuine. Mikasa glared at you before sharing a look with Armin, who widened his eyes to alert her that you had caught on. You did not attempt to press.

Eren’s frustrated expression quickly melted as he looked from his lap to you. “It’s just soup, Y/n. It’s fine,” he grinned, evidently attempting to lift some of the guilt as you picked up a napkin to try to blot the soup on your shirt.

“I don’t think it’ll stain if we clean it off now,” you put the crumpled napkin on your tray, next to the empty bowl. “Let’s go to the washroom,” you suggested, motioning to the way the napkins had only absorbed the soup rather than removing the dark grey stain that was left.

“You’re probably right about that,” Eren gave his lap one final look before standing up with you, your dominant hand coming to wrap around his wrist to establish physical contact.

“We’ll be right back,” you chirped nonchalantly, quite literally, leading the titan shifter through the middle of the mess hall. A fast glance over your shoulder revealed Mikasa starting to get up to follow, but Armin gently patted her forearm to make her sit back down. Her instincts knew better than his, but she seemed to write hers off as her usual overprotective tendency for Eren. You doubted she wanted to be scolded for it again.

The unofficial ‘Superiors’ Table’ was the closest to the entrance of the mess hall, the table formation resembling a simple cafeteria in many rows of horizontal tables, which made it easy for Levi to watch you and Eren pass him. For a moment, you locked eyes with him and offered a chaste smile to deepen the blow. The way you held Eren’s wrist as he trailed you was a signature tell of a quickie- you’d done it to Levi countless times, and now he was recognizing it as a bystander.

A slight dip of your chin expressed that you were completely serious about using Eren to make him envious. If this didn’t teach him, then you were positive nothing would.

. . .

#levi ackerman #levi smut #snk levi #levi aot #erwin smut #erwin smith #erwin smith fanfic #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot smut #Eren Jaeger #eren x you #eren x reader smut #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #shingeki no #shingeki no kyoujin x reader

34 notes · View notes

pastelwitchling · 4 years ago

Text

Nobody ever knew this, but the day Alex had lost his leg, Michael had known about it.

Since the very moment Alex had told Michael that he’d enlisted, something had begun along the anguish in his heart. Plans. Michael had known secrecy was law in the military, but that hadn’t been nearly enough to keep him from strategizing. How would he keep an eye on Alex? How would he make sure his man was okay? He wasn’t family, he didn’t know any of Alex’s actual family, and if anything happened to him, Michael would be the last to know, if allowed to know at all.

So he’d hacked security systems he shouldn’t have hacked. He would realize later on that Alex could’ve done in seconds when he’d only managed after almost a year of nonstop research and covert sites and shady computer creeps. But he’d been desperate, and when he’d found Alex’s name registered under a certain unit, he knew the lost paychecks and sleepless nights had been more than worth it.

Every morning after he woke up and every night before he went to sleep, he would pull up the soldier listings, and touch Alex’s name, thinking of him, pretending he was warm and safe wherever he was.

“I’ll see you again,” he murmured to himself, hoping that somehow Alex could hear him.

Then one day, Alex had disappeared off the listings. Michael had only been half-awake when he’d checked, but as he scrolled to where he knew Alex’s name should’ve been and couldn’t find it, panic had quickly set in and he’d paced the airstream, the computer in hand, scrolling through the names a million times.

It took threatening another hacker with an abnormal strength that he would never explain to find Alex’s name again under the Captains listing. The hacker had cursed at him as he’d ditched the money and run for his life, but Michael didn’t care. He was too busy staring at Alex’s name, reminding himself that his airman was safe and unharmed. That he was a captain now.

Michael didn’t know how he felt about that. Alex was a captain, rising in the ranks. He had his own team with other airmen that followed his orders. On the one hand, the bigger part of him wondered if this meant Alex would never come back. On the other . . . his Alex was a captain. The pride made Michael smile.

“That’s my boy.”

For the next five years, nothing had changed. Michael kept checking to make sure Alex’s name was still there, the awards piling up. Michael had just begun to fear that he really wouldn’t see Alex again in that final year, but he looked for Alex’s name anyway. He didn’t care, he just wanted to know Alex was safe.

Then, one night, with a pain in his chest that he couldn’t explain and an anxiety that made him want to look up Alex’s name before his shift was even over, Michael found his airman with a Purple Heart listed beside him.

His brows furrowed, and he clicked on the linked information. He couldn’t remember what the purple heart was for, but dread settled in his stomach anyway and made him nauseous. Then he saw it. And he remembered. The Purple Heart was awarded to soldiers who were gravely wounded in battle.

“No,” he breathed, standing up with the computer in hand, staring at the report as if expecting it to be a joke. “No.”

An explosion had gone off where Alex’s team had been stationed.

“He’s alive,” he told himself, the very thought making him tremble and his vision shatter. “He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.”

But his leg . . . his leg had been . . .

Feeling sick, Michael left the computer on his bed, grabbed his jacket, and drove with lightning speed to the Wild Pony. He stopped outside the doors, trying to steady his racing heart. Maria would know. One of Alex’s brothers might get in touch with her, someone would’ve gotten in touch with Mimi, and she would’ve told her daughter. Either way, Maria would know, and if she was happy and unbothered, then Alex was fine, and it was a glitch in the system. Everything was fine.

Michael stepped inside, the usual chatter and jukebox music of the bar turned to faint background noise, nothing so intoxicating and frighteningly inviting as it usually was. That was because Michael was here on a mission.

He made a beeline for the bar, tilting his head up and down looking for Maria. He spotted a head of brown curls and his eyes fell on Maria on the phone. Something like barely processed relief began to settle in his chest as she laughed.

Then he got closer, and realized Maria wasn’t laughing at all. She was crying. He froze.

Another waitress came up behind her and helped lead her into the backroom, patting her back consolingly before she took over the bar. Michael wordlessly turned around and left.

He sat on the ground against the airstream until dawn started to peek through, staring at Alex’s name. He had been taken to DC, the name of the hospital there in the report.

When his fingers turned numb and he started to forget where he was, his mind consumed with Alex, lying awake in his hospital bed, probably screaming his head off, alone and scared and miserable, he got to his feet, into his truck, and started it without a word.

He drove and drove and drove. He stopped once to put in gas and forced a greasy burger down his throat to stave off the blinding hunger before he kept driving. The streets changed, the desert faded, white houses sat side by side, and Michael soon found himself parked in front of the hospital where Alex was.

Michael was out of the truck before it was properly parked, and he stormed up to the front desk. “What room is Alex Manes in?”

The receptionist blinked. “Are you family?” Michael swallowed through a clenched jaw. That seemed to have been answer enough for the older woman. “Sorry, he’s only allowed family in this time –”

“Please,” he whispered. “Please. I came all the way from Roswell in New Mexico. Please just give me five minutes. Just five minutes.”

The woman eyed him for a moment, as if realizing something. Her gaze turned sympathetic and her shoulders slumped. “Fifth floor, room 52 in Recovery. Five minutes –” she warned but Michael was already running towards the stairs, taking them two steps at a time.

He ran down the hall and slid into a supply closet to avoid being spotted by a group of doctors making their way to the breakroom.

“I’ve never seen anybody like that captain before,” one of them said, and Michael’s heart leapt into his throat. “He just turned so . . . quiet.”

“What do you expect?” the other guy sighed. “You met his father. Those Manes men are made of stone.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Michael was searching for room 52. He came up to the door, and swallowed thickly. Hanging on the wall next to the door was a plaque that read, Recovery. It made Michael sick that Alex would ever need to recover from anything.

He hesitated and opened the door, holding his breath. He’d expected to see seventeen year old Alex sitting up in bed, idly strumming a guitar with maybe a bandage over his eyebrow. As he stepped inside though, he found a twenty-eight year old man, lying asleep in bed, the blanket pulled up to his chest as a heart monitor gave a steady beep beep beep. He slept on his back, his head turned the other way, his hands folded on his stomach.

But Michael could still make out the slight stubble on Alex’s jaw, his hair still soft by cut short and sticking out in different places as if refusing to stay down in its natural state. His cheeks were rosy but hollow, and the black circles around his eyes seemed darker than ever. He looked so much older, in more ways than one.

Michael’s eyes burned as he approached, something like a chocked whimper sounding in his throat as he reached out and touched Alex’s jaw, the stubble scratching his fingers. Even when Alex had been a teenager, he’d woken at the drop of a feather. It was a testament to his exhaustion and grief that he slept so soundly now, not anything resembling peace.

It was now that Michael saw him that he realized Alex had never known peace a day in his life. Life had been taking and taking away from him, and this. This was the biggest loss.

He looked down Alex’s form under the blanket, the muscle evident after years of training, and his breath caught. There was nothing below the right knee, the blanket revealing just what he’d suffered by lying flat on the mattress where his leg should’ve been.

A tear fell down his cheek and a sob escaped his lips. He leaned down, and pressed a wet, trembling kiss to Alex’s forehead. His skin was still cool and he still smelled like vanilla.

“I’m right here with you, baby,” he breathed against his skin. “Alex, I’m right here. I didn’t want to leave you alone, I’m sorry.”

His other hand reached down to hold Alex’s, but he stayed over him, pressing another kiss to each of his tired eyes, his cheek, his nose, his ear, his jaw. His lips hovered over Alex’s, eager to kiss him, but then –

“Mmh,” Alex stirred, his brows knit as his fingers twitched in Michael’s.

Michael let him go, stepping back. He swallowed, waiting anxiously for Alex to wake up, realize Michael was here, and ask him what the hell had brought him. Alex probably didn’t even remember him, didn’t care to see him, regretted ever having kissed him –

“Gue . . . rin,” Alex murmured in his sleep. “Guerin . . .”

Michael stared. Alex repeated his name in a whimper this time, his brows pinched tighter together as he stirred restlessly in bed. He was having a nightmare. He was having a nightmare, and he wanted Michael.

His breaths began to quicken, and Michael blinked out of his haze, closing the distance between them and taking Alex’s hand in his again, his hold tight. He smoothed Alex’s bangs out of the way and kissed his forehead again. “I’m right here, Alex,” he murmured. “I’m not gonna leave you. I’m right here.”

Slowly, Alex’s breathing calmed again and the tension in his body faded. His right leg lay still, and Michael couldn’t help but kiss him again. Maybe this would be okay, after all. Maybe Alex could wake up and see him, and Michael could promise that he would stay with him, take care of him. He’d promise that he loved him anyway.

Then a knock came and Michael straightened. The receptionist from downstairs came in with a clipboard in hand. She sighed, her expression genuinely apologetic. Michael didn’t care. Her news wasn’t good.

“Five minutes are up,” she said. “I’m sorry, but you have to go.”

“But –”

“His family is scheduled to arrive at any minute,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”

Then reality hit. As much fun as hypotheticals were, as much as he wanted to believe he was Alex’s family . . . he just wasn’t. He and Alex weren’t married, he hadn’t even spoken to Alex before he’d left all those years ago. They weren’t strangers, they could never be strangers, but who knew if Alex even wanted to come back to Roswell now that he was injured? Who knew if Michael was the one he wanted to see when he woke up and remembered he’d lost a limb?

His hand fell away from Alex’s and he stepped back, his eyes on the airman. This couldn’t be the last time he ever saw him. He wouldn’t let it be. He just wished he could look away now.

Alex had gone still again, sleeping soundly, and Michael finally tore his gaze from him and made it to the door before the nurse softly asked, “Who should I tell him came to see him?”

Michael looked at Alex, sleeping and unaware that the mess of a cowboy he’d once loved had come running. That Michael had loved him enough to come.

His eyes burned, but before anyone could see the tears, he shook his head and said, his voice hoarse, “Nobody. Tell him nobody came.”

And without another word or glance, with the intention to destroy the computer that he’d used to keep track of Alex all these years the second he got back, Michael left the hospital, left DC, left Alex.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

44 notes · View notes

hexensalbei · 4 years ago

Text

“Weʼve made a horrible mistake”, Buck says when Eddie hands him over new bottle of beer. Diaz doesnʼt even have to look up or turn around to know what Buckʼs been talking about. Or rather who.

“Youʼre absolutely right. Theyʼre up to something. Definitely nothing good”, he sighs heavily and his eyes finally land on the three women sitting on the couch and talking about something very vigorously. “They looked at me when I went to the kitchen. And now theyʼre looking at us. Again.”

“We shouldnʼt have let them meet. Like ever”, Buck agrees. He has a strong feeling that it will bite them in the ass. Very soon. In this moment, Sophia looks at them with a grin on her face and Eddie just groans.

“Theyʼre scheming. I know the look and I shouldʼve predicted this because my sisters are always meddling. Although I didnʼt expect Maddie to be so eager to join them”, he adds and thereʼs a hint of accusation in his voice.

“You clearly donʼt know her that well. Believe me, that nice girl look is just a facade. Sheʼs horrible”, Buck declares and then laughs at his friend's horrified expression.

“You mean she's even worse than you?” asks Eddie playfully after a while.

“You are so sleeping on the couch tonight, Diaz”, Buck deadpans, elbowing him lightly. Heʼs not really offended; he likes to bicker with him and theyʼre both in very good mood. Theyʼre at the party at Grant-Nash house, surrounded by friends and they can truly enjoy their night off.

“It kinda implies that weʼre sleeping together in one bed so we should work on that first. And then you can kick me off to the couch”, Eddie winks at him and grins.

They hear someoneʼs gagging (most likely to be Chim) and Henʼs muttering Lord help me from behind but they don't really pay attention to it. Theyʼre only focused on each other now, which happens fairly often when they get carried away with the flirting. Recently, it got even more shameless—and, god, they love to tease each other and make innuendos. Eddie loves how easy and natural it is—he was never a cocky playboy type and flirting wasnʼt his best skills. But with Buck... He just canʼt help himself. Not if his best friend responds the way he does.

“So...”, Eddie says and his eyes travel to Buckʼs lips who wets them unintentionally. He fights the urge to capture them with his mouth because Buckʼs his best friend and he canʼt kiss him in the room full of people. Not that he can kiss him when theyʼre alone.

Someone clears throat loudly and the tension is broken. Eddie blinks and looks around—he feels quite embarrassed because once again he let himself fantasise about Buck—and he meets Maddieʼs very knowing smirk. He hopes he doesnʼt have his feelings written all over his face and she didnʼt pick them up.

“Iʼm going to the bathroom”, announces Buck suddenly and he gets up suspiciously quickly and practically runs away to the place.

Eddie wonders if he should go after him. He wants to; heʼs not sure how it would end. He doesnʼt even have the time to decide because his sisters got up and theyʼre going in his direction.

“Whereʼs your loverboy?”, asks Sophia, nudging him softly to move a little bit to make more room for her and Adriana.

“He, uh, went to the bathroom”, Eddie rubs off his neck; he still feels embarrassed and heʼs sure that if he was pale, his cheeks would have been red as Adrianaʼs dress sheʼs wearing tonight.

“I hope he will come back quickly, I havenʼt got a chance to talk with him yet” says Adriana, “although I think Maddie will be my new favourite Buckley.”

“I wonder why”, Eddie snorts and looks around to find Buckʼs sister but thereʼs no sign of her and he suspects she went off to see her brother. “You three were plotting, werenʼt you?”

“Thatʼs very serious accusation, Eddie. Iʼd be very careful with making any. You donʼt know what can we do in revenge”. Sophiaʼs voice is amused, teasing; almost as usually. But Eddie knows Diaz women too well and he picks up something more, something he canʼt even name yet.

“We were just making friends”, adds Adriana and she shrugs her arms. “I am really glad I got to meet your coworkers. Theyʼre wonderful people. And Buck has an amazing sister.”

“Yeah, Maddieʼs great”, agrees Eddie. He realises, heʼs quite close to both of Buckley siblings—despite what Buck says—because he spends with them most of his free time. Obviously, Buckʼs his favourite but Maddie has slowly become his third sister. And Christopher adores her almost as much as her brother. Buckleys have that effect on people, he thinks with fondness. He seriously has no idea what would he do without them. Theyʼre really making his life better in many ways. He drifted away with his thoughts so he tries to focus on conversation heʼs in. “Although I wish you wouldnʼt try to convince her to join you with your evil plans.”

Both Sophia and Adriana laugh, looking at his brother with very amused, almost identical expression.

“Oh Edmundo, whereʼs your trust? Why are you always assume weʼre plotting?”, asks Sophia very innocently.

“Or that we are the oneʼs to convince Maddie to do the bad things. Have you thought maybe itʼs the other way around?”, adds Adriana.

She has a point, though, but Eddie doesnʼt want to believe them. Maddie has to be less evil than his sisters. He still hasnʼt figured out yet why were they scheming or whoʼs gonna be their next victim but he has a hunch.

Thankfully, he spots Buckʼs coming back which saves him from replying to his sisters. His best friend still looks slightly embarrassed; the tips of his ears are red and it piques Eddieʼs interest. Then, he notices Maddieʼs right behind him and she looks very pleased. Both Buckleys stop by the couch Diaz siblings are sitting at.

“Eddie, would you mind drive Buck to his apartment? Heʼs not feeling that well and I donʼt want him go alone”, Maddie asks. Buck rolls his eyes and he looks mildly irritated now.

“I donʼt feel bad”, he scoffs. “And Iʼm an adult, I can go back to my home alone.”

“Itʼs not a problem”, reassures him Eddie, getting up from the couch. Itʼs true; helping Buck is never a problem. Plus, itʼs very good excuse to talk to him alone. Somewhere when his sisters wouldnʼt eavesdrop. Or their coworkers. “Letʼs go. Addie, Soph, Iʼll come back and take you home too.”

“Oh, no need. Weʼll get an Uber”, Adriana says and Eddie only nods.

He goes to Bobby and Athena to say goodbye and then shoots a look in Buckʼs direction. The blonde follows him quietly and Eddie really wants to know why his mood changed that quickly.

They step outside; itʼs a warm, cloudless night—perfect for romantic dates including stargazing.

“Are you OK?”, asks Eddie when theyʼre in Eddieʼs truck. His voice is filled with concern and he tries to read his friendʼs mind but he doesnʼt even look up.

“Iʼm fine”, Buck mumbles, his eyes still focused on his knees as if there was something more interesting to observe than look into Eddieʼs eyes.

“Youʼre not. Something has happened when you went to the bathroom, I know it. Was it Maddie? Did she tell you something?”, Eddie doesnʼt buy this shit and heʼs determined to find out the truth. “Buck”, he pats his knee gently. “What did she say?”

“Itʼs—uhm—itʼs not really that awful. She...”, Buck bites his tongue but eventually, he decides to go on and he looks at Eddie. “She was just teasing me too much and I got annoyed.”

“My awful sisters probably encouraged her to annoy you a little bit”, admits Eddie and then smiles at his best friend. “At least she has let you go and now you can do whatever you want. You wanna go with me? Christopherʼs probably asleep but I have your favourite beer. And you can crash on my couch.”

Eddieʼs invitation is very spontaneous; he didnʼt plan to spend the rest of evening with Buck but if thereʼs a chance to even just watch movie with him and then go to sleep, heʼll gladly take it.

“Deal.” Buckʼs response is almost immediate and his grin is almost blinding.

—☾—

Buckley-Diaz sisters grand scheme reminds about itself when Eddie gets an invitation to his sisters in El Paso. Heʼs not the only one, though. Buck and Maddie also are invited.

“Why would they invite both me and Maddie? Maddie already said yes, she takes Joy and Chim with us”, complains Buck when theyʼre cleaning firetruck on the shift. “Anyway, are you OK with me and Maddie visiting your family?”

“Why would I be not OK with it? Itʼs not like you donʼt know them already. My parents will be thrilled to see you”, says Eddie. “And Iʼm glad youʼll be here. At least I wonʼt have to face Sophia, Adriana and Maddie alone. You have to suffer with me”, he adds and winks at his best friend.

He knows this invitation has something to do with the party at Grant-Nash house when their sisters have met. And that both Sophia and Adriana have some wicked ideas involving him and Buck probably too but he still wants Buck by his side.

“Great, so Iʼm only there to be traumatised by your sisters instead of you?”, jokes Buck and kicks Eddie in the shin.

“Ow, that hurts, Buckley!”, Eddie hisses and still smiles despite the pain.

“Quit pulling pigtails, dinnerʼs almost ready”, they hear Chimʼs voice from above and they immediately raise their heads.

“Fine, weʼre going”, sighs Eddie and waits until Chimʼs gone to look at Buck. “Seriously, Iʼm glad they invited you too. I mean, we have to be careful but I still think itʼll be nice weekend.”

—☾—

Itʼs nice indeed. Drive to El Paso was long and exhausting but theyʼve managed to survive without serious injuries (although Joy really tried to make them deaf and she only felt asleep in Buckʼs arms). Sophia and Adriana welcomed them with a huge smiles and amazing food. Theyʼve decided to put Maddie with Chim and Joy in Adrianaʼs house to sleep and Buck wouldʼve slept with Eddie and Chris in Sophiaʼs house. And now, theyʼre just hanging out. Itʼs late and all kids are already asleep (Addieʼs husband offered to take care of them, even Joy) so adults can let themselves loosen up a little bit.

“So who wants to play Truth or Dare?”, asks Sophia, nursing bottle of beer in her hands. Sheʼs already slightly drunk, just as the rest of them—minus Maddie whoʼs feeding the baby so she prefers not to have alcohol in her bloodstream.

“Oh, Iʼm definitely in”, says Chimney, raising his hand up as if he wants to make sure everyone heard him.

“And so am I. I used to play it in high school before I met Doug and I kinda forgot how to have proper fun”. Thereʼs hint of nostalgia in Maddieʼa voice but she smiles brightly anyway. Adriana says yes and Buck replies me too without even thinking.

Itʼs Eddie who hesitates. Oh, heʼs definitely having fun and he appreciates that his sisters made it happen. Itʼs just—

He noticed earlier how Maddie disappeared with his sisters and they were back after half of an hour and they kept talking in a hushed voices whenever they saw him or Buck. Which is very suspicious; not to mention that Sophia and Adriana have been teasing him about his feelings for Buck even more in the past weeks. He hasnʼt told them but theyʼre not stupid and he hasnʼt been exactly subtle when it comes to showing affection to Buck. Heʼs afraid that they might say something stupid, something that Buck will figure out. And he doesnʼt want it—heʼs okay with them being only friends—anything that doesnʼt ruin what theyʼve already built.

“Iʼll pass”, he finally says and heʼs met with five disappointed gazes. They can be disappointed now but they will forget about it as soon as they sober up, right?

“Iʼve never pegged you as a coward.”

Of course itʼs Buck who says this sentence. Eddie looks at him and regrets it. Buckʼs smirking and thereʼs challenge in his eyes. Eddie knows this look by now because itʼs not the first time Buck makes him do something stupid and reckless.

“Fine, Iʼm in”, he lets out a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes. He really needs to learn how to not take a bait from Buckley.

“Excellent!”, sings Sophia and the game begins.

—☾—

One hour later theyʼre more drunk and very, very giggly. Questions and tasks get more crazy and hilarious—but they donʼt back off and do everything with a smiles on their faces. Eddieʼs now sure he was completely wrong about the scheme until he decides to take dare instead of truth and itʼs Sophiaʼs turn to come up with the task.

“I dare you to... Kiss Buck!”

Eddie almost drops his bottle of beer. He mustʼve misheard this, right? Thereʼs no way Sophia wouldʼve done this. He looks at her and she doesnʼt shy away. “Should I repeat the dare?”, she asks instead, making very innocent face.

“No” comes out of his mouth and heʼs surprised how hoarse his voice is.

“Soph, I donʼt think this is a good idea”, he hears Buckʼs voice but he doesnʼt register the words. Then Buck turns around to face him and his eyes are filled with worry and concern but thereʼs something else. Maybe hope? Eddie doesnʼt know how to name it. “If youʼre not comfortable with it, then donʼt do it”, Buck says quietly.

“Are you? I mean, not comfortable?”, Eddie manages only to whisper. They donʼt notice that rest of their group is so quiet like theyʼre not even here. Once again theyʼre only focused on each other; somehow theyʼre so close to each other thereʼs barely a free space between them.

“I donʼt think Iʼd ever be uncomfortable with you kissing me”, Buck simply states and itʼs everything Eddie needs to hear. He closes the space between them and kisses him. Firstly, itʼs very tentative—like Eddieʼs still not sure if itʼs the things his best friend wants. But Buck isnʼt the one to chicken out. He grabs him by the collar of his shirt and brings him closer as he deepens the kiss. It quickly becomes more heated—Eddie moans softly when Buck slides his tongue into his mouth. Buck pushes him slightly to be able to straddle him and they accidentally roll over abandoned beer bottle.

They break apart laughing and they finally notice that thereʼs nobody but them in the living room.

“Uh, when did they go out?”, asks Buck and Eddieʼs in awe when he sees his disheveled hair, swollen lips and pink-tinted cheeks. Itʼs amazing look on him, he thinks.

“I donʼt care”, he says and grins mischievously. “Maybe our sisters were right to meddle because Iʼm pretty sure that was their intention.”

“Thank God they did that because you would never kiss, wouldnʼt you?”, mocks Buck but heʼs quickly silenced by another kiss.

Maybe sometimes having sisters isnʼt that bad.

Find it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30619118

#911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #911 fic #lucy writes #lucy's attempt to write #in this house we stan diaz sisters #buckley-diaz sisters grand scheme #i know it's dumb and silly #but hope you like it anyway #chaotic writing

37 notes · View notes

chemicalpink · 4 years ago

Text

Trust Fund Baby ♡ Kim Seokjin

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader

Genre: Fluff + Softcore Smut with a side of Comedy

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: includes softcore porn, mc cries during sex bc too much feelings, fake engagement, Jin’s mum dislikes YN

Summary: Kim Seokjin is the biggest Trust Fund Baby, it is no secret but he’s almost thirty and on the line to inherit his dad’s CEO position, which makes his family set a deadline for his engagement or he loses it all.

The one where Seokjin is no good with buried feelings but Y/N isn’t any better (they kinda hate each other and they have to share a bed okay, thats the cliche here)

A/N: banner made by me, whoa I finally got this bad boy finished that took quite some time, well, I hope you enjoy, these past few days haven’t been nice to me but I’m slowly working on it. Much blessing to all of you reading this first attempt at a slightly longer shot.

Seokjin has always been one to enjoy the finest things in life, traveling around the world at any given time? check. shopping without checking the price tag? check. attending a top tier university? also check.

The thing is, one can only live so long without having to actually work for every single swipe of a black card. He is about to turn 28, youngest child of the most successful tech innovator in Korea and a former second-place Miss Universe, and he has yet to bring a girl home that provides him with some kind of secured future to the family name.

“We are not getting any younger” his mother had said the first few times the topic was brought up during their usual family Sunday brunch, but the words fell on deaf ears.

When his dad started getting involved in the matter, Seokjin knew he was over and done with.

But as much as his dad was headstrong, Jin was one himself too, he entered each blind date knowing that he would make whoever was sitting across from him, absolutely despise him after less than an hour went by, which was quite a hard task in itself, seen as he was pretty good looking and with a heavy amount of money under his name.

See, he would have probably agreed to marry to some of the girls that his dad sent his way, but every time he sat down for dinner with each of them, they were not even trying to fake being interested in him, just his lifestyle, whether it is if his dad was about to name him CEO any time soon or how much money they could blow off in the wedding.

He could do it for the rest of his living days, scaring off his father’s candidates, that is. It was somewhat fun, earning a weirded out look when he mentioned he liked bathing in goats milk religiously, or how he allegedly liked being put to sleep like a baby, he even once went as far as admitting a fake toe kink in the most perverted way possible when one of them just wouldn’t budge.

Then again, his fun could only last so long, as his father called him up to the office to give him a 30-day ultimatum or his trust fund would be taken away for good. Now that had the gears in his head working, how on earth would any sane enough person agree to marry in a month-long time.

“I’m not saying you’re not a keeper, hyung but I honestly don’t think I can take up such a responsibility,” Namjoon laughed as they sat in one of the campus’ lounge chairs while they waited for their class to start, the elder groaned in response.

“Could you imagine having to marry THE Kim Seokjn in less than a month, but also having to meet the standards of tech genius Mr Kim and universal beauty Mrs Kim” Jungkook laughed at his friend as he patted his shoulder in pity “I don’t think anyone is willing to put themselves through it hyung”

“Could you just- I don’t know, help me out a bit? I already know I’m fucked”

“Okay, let’s say… who could pass the scrutinising judgemental eye of the Kims?” the blond one offered, just a bit of teasing in his tone “They would have to be a girl, your father seems adamant on that one” he paused as if in thought “ A nice family name would help too”

“She would have to be good looking too, my mum says Seokjin-hyung’s mum can never be seen without looking like she is about to own a runway”

“Well that’s about it, I will be broke for the rest of my life, I won’t be able to pay my student loans, it was nice knowing you guys, I’ll just have to work at some greasy old diner to pay for a one-bedroom apartment somewhere out of the city and we’ll never hang out again because I’ll be a disgrace of society, this handsome face will just wrinkle and spot without the high maintenance and- ugh” he buried his face in between his hands, resting on the table in an overexaggerated manner after his rant, making the youngers try to stifle a laugh

“Whoa, what is the drama queen crying about now?” Taehyung, another friend of theirs approached the table after hearing the not so subtle commotion “Hyung, if your night cream went out of stock again, you know I can get my mum to ship some to you, we’ve talked about this”

If Seokjin’s dramatic outburst from before had made them laugh, Taehyungs’ confession made them burst in a fit of laughter that had both of them holding onto their sides “You’ve- you’ve had to restock Seokjin-hyung on- on night cream before?”

“And now he’s going to kill me, stop laughing!” he took a seat next to them “What is this about anyway?”

“His dad said he has to marry or they will completely obliterate his spending rights”

“Oh but, how hard can it be? You’re Kim Seokjin, just ask a girl to fake marry you”

“He’s just worried that after having a taste of Worldwide Handsome, they won’t let go ” Seokjin let out an overdramatic groan at that, continuing to fake cry, sound muffled by his arms

“Then just ask someone that doesn’t give two shits about your money or reputation to fake marry you”

“I don’t think such a person exists, hyung”

“Yah, Y/N is a good option, her family is filthy rich too”

“But isn’t Y/N… you know, a bastard child?” Taehyung was known amongst their scene as a social butterfly, not caring about the protocol they were subdued into when they were children, so it made sense that while for them it was almost a rule to never consider an illegitimate child a friend of theirs, Taehyung would just jump over that fact.

“Which is exactly my point, if you show up to your parents’ house, saying you’re ‘oh so in love with this black sheep’ I could bet my life, they’ll let you off the hook”

So maybe Taehyung was right, you were his best shot so far. Contrary to what most people new to the scene of Korea’s high society believe about your social status as an illegitimate child of the car emporium’s CEO and national treasure, he knows you are more of an insider, having grown up with him but… pretty much on the side. It wasn’t like you were alien to his lifestyle, but as you both grew up and he was involved more in the family business, you had grown apart, going as far as rebelling against your father once you were grown up enough to understand what being a bastard child meant for you.

He never stopped seeing you around though, once you started going MIA on business dinners and family trips, he thought enough to see you during classes.

However, you stopped being recognisable after he attended a semester abroad, coming back home to see pigtails and pink puffy dresses long gone, in their place, ripped jeans, which were completely unacceptable for a lady, according to his mum, and driving one of your dad’s self-proclaimed archnemesis designs.

It was a spring semester in high school, he could recall the time as if it were a precious memory, while the rest tried to pretend it had never happened in the first place; at age 27 he doesn’t have to try so hard to recall the way you burst into one of your father’s celebratory cocktails, drunk off your ass, barely managing to get a hold of some mic and screaming into it how he, and everyone else attending the party, had a stick up their asses that didn’t let them see anything but price tags before you were dragged off stage by security. He had giggled at it but his mother had scolded him, asking him to pretend as if you had never existed in the first place.

So of course, the secure way out of an arranged marriage was simple: you.

Now, this promised to be no easy task, he knew you hated his family almost as much as you hated your own father, but he also happened to know his way into negotiating an infallible plan that would get you to rebel against the system you were so adamant on taking down.

“Wait wait wait, so you’re telling me, asking me, to marry you” so perhaps approaching you on your way to class wasn’t the smartest way to do it, seen as you halted your hasty walk to turn to look at him, books in hand and looking like you hadn’t slept in days.

“Yeah, fake marrying me though”

“I would still sign a contract, Jin you do know we would be legally married, right?” he just raised his shoulders as if to dismiss your statement.

“Say, hypothetically I do it, I don’t think your parents would approve of me” you resumed your walk and he found it appropriate to play dumb with a smile on his face.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

You stopped walking again and blinked a few times his way as if debating inside your head if he really was that dense“Jin… I’m a bastard child, you know how it goes around here”

“Hmmm I’m willing to look past that, yeah” you stared at him for a few seconds before smiling in a knowing way, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him, not being able to see past his words to his true intentions on the matter since you two hadn’t really hung out for years “So what do you say?”

“No thank you” you weren’t about to turn around once you started to walk away once again, but out of the corner of your eyes you could see him hanging his mouth open in that drama fashion he was known for.

Days passed and each one seemed to go by faster than the last, by the time two weeks were left, he could practically hear the ticking clock inside his head, reminding him that maybe he should have gone for an easier target, perhaps some girl from the country club that seemed to always try so hard to steal a glance from him. But then again, he wouldn’t get rid of her for all he’s worth.

Seokjin tries, again and again, everytime ending up with a no from you, he starts actually trying as his days run low, peer pressure, you’d call it as he set up a huge booth full of roses just outside your dorm building, a mic held in his hand as everyone around him took videos of THE Kim Seokjin making a fool of himself for a girl, your cheeks blazing red as you walked up to him, finally fed up with him as you angrily whispered to him “You’re asking me because you don’t think I am on your level, you honestly think less of me, why? because I didn’t grow up in a golden cradle like you and your friends? because I actually have to work for what I have? You’re an asshole Kim Seokjin, but I will prove you, I can absolutely charm both of your parents, I’ll do it” Seokjin’s grin taking over his features.

The first time you officially posed as Seokjin’s girlfriend, you wouldn’t have thought it would be one of the most nerve wrecking experiences in your life, having grown in a wealthy family, after your mother decided to leave you with your biological dad and his rightful heirs, you were no stranger to their roundabouts, their lifestyle and everything in between.

“Well you cleaned up nicely, Y/N” Seokjin said in a mocking tone, body resting against his black car just outside your dorm building as he watched you close the glass door, ready to drive both of you to his family’s vacation house all the way in Jeju Island

“Why aren’t you a gentleman and help me with my stuff?” you groaned as, once again, your suitcase betrays you and tries to slip away from your grasp.

“Nah, not really my thing” he adjusted his sunglasses perched on his nose as he mockingly added “...darling”

“Kim Seokjin, I am the one doing you a favour by going with you!” you shouted back at him, in a futile attempt to get him to help you as he was already buckling himself up inside the driver’s seat.

In all wealthy family fashion, as soon as Seokjin phoned back home to let his parents know that he was ‘finally ready to bring his girlfriend over’ his mum had gone all out and invited most of the inner Kim family for a weekend get together in one of their houses in Jeju, with just a text the night before having to leave campus as a heads up for you to get ready, currently on your way to catch a plane.

“Wait so let me just get this straight” you said, surprised at Seokjin’s story of how the conversation with his mum went down, turning in your seat to face him more clearly “just after month of your parents trying to set you up, you just went ahead and straight up lied to your mother by saying that you’re bringing your long time girlfriend that you just somehow never mentioned before?”

“Yeah, Y/N, didn’t you hear me out the first time?”

You let out something between a laugh and a scoff as you melted into your seat “We’re so screwed”

Two hours and a lot of bickering later, you are still pushing your own suitcase forward as you and Seokjin made your way to a rented car just outside the airport.

“Listen so- these family things are kinda..”

“Stuck up?”

“I was gonna say etiquette-driven, but yeah, stuck up probably fits best” he said as you buckled your seatbelt on, him beginning to drive away and towards his family address, somewhere from the side of your eye you could see his hand trembling lightly on the steering wheel. Could it be that Kim Seokjin was nervous? The Kim Seokjin?

“Relax Jin, I know exactly how to handle it. We grew up together, remember?” you said smiling at him as he turned your way for a second; to calm him down, but honestly it was more a thing to try and calm yourself down, having ran away from such a lifestyle, stirring things up in your family, only to end up somehow at the center of it all was sure a wild ride to be on.

“Yeah, I sometimes kinda forget you used to be so much better at this stuff than your sisters” his eyes lingered on you a second too long as you stopped at a red light, a small smile taking over his lips and the car behind you being quick to make it known that Seokjin was taking up too long to start the car going again when the light changed.

The ride was pretty much silent and kinda awkward but soon over with as the car pulled up to a familiar villa, white houses with fancy front gardens and over the top luxury cars lining up together as Jin parked on the third house on the right, just beside the one that used to be your father’s, and probably still was.

A woman was waiting by the entrance door, which you soon recognised to be Seokjin’s mum, looking just a tad older than how you remembered her from all those years ago, a bright smile on her face as she rushed to the driver’s side to greet her son.

“Ah Seokjinnie! You never visit anymore, look at you! Are you eating well? You look so thin!” she said as she placed two sonorous kisses on her son, one on each cheek.

“Yah, eomma, we talk on the phone a lot though”

“Wait so who’s the lucky lady you’ve brought home?” you stood kind of awkwardly on the front of the car to greet her with a small bow and a faltering smile, your heart speeding up at the memories of what your life used to be, fingers gripping your bag tighter in an attempt to not run away as soon as her eyes landed on you and her smile fell “Y/N? Seokjinnie, is Y/N really the girl you brought home?”

“Surprise?” Jin said from behind her as she not so subtly let out a huff and entered the house as you tried not to notice how your heart sinked at the sight, surely, you had always known deep down that you were quite the talk of the town amongst the families, with you being a bastard child and all, which was exactly why Seokjin had asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend, so his parents would drop the topic, very much preferring to see his son single rather than married to an out of marriage offspring, which not only made you realise that what you had promised yourself to make Seokjin down his words would never be true, you could never in a million years make his parents love you, and you didn’t calculate just how much it would hurt yourself as you tried.

“You can take the room upstairs, I’ll call you when your sister’s back so we can have dinner together” his mother said as she made her way inside without another word

“So I don’t think your mother likes me” you blurted out as soon as you closed the door to the room “Which I guess, goes exactly as you planned, after this I don’t think they’ll be pestering you to marry”

“Y/N that’s the least of our problems”

“What are you talking about?”

His eyes opened up to emphasize along with his hands dramatically pointing towards the bed “There’s only one bed and I have a bad back so I’m not about to sleep on the floor”

“Well that’s the least you could do Kim, I’m not about to share a bed with you”

“Take the couch?” he said as he pointed to a small couch that faced the window

“Kim Seokjin I’m doing this much for your sorry ass, so unless you want me to go down and tell your mother that all of this is a set up, you take the damn couch”

“Well I never knew you looked that hot while yelling at me, Y/N”

“You’re insufferable”

“Y/N come on, I don’t fit in that couch” he whined at you as you walked towards the bathroom to freshen up

“Do as you please Seokjin, but you’re not sleeping with me”

As if dealing with Seokjin’s mum wasn’t enough, his sister was about to burst your head either from all the questioning or out of spite from the looks she was giving you as you sat across from her on the dinner table

“So Y/N, your sisters never mentioned you dating our Seokjin”

“Oh yeah- it was more of a very private matter, we dated for awhile just to see how it went, right Jinnie?” you said the nickname in a honey dripping voice that fitted the fake scenario you had going on

“Ahh yeah, yeah, Y/N and I, we uh- we like keeping to ourselves”

“And I haven’t seen you at your dad’s company dinners after- well, the incident”

“Seung” their oldest brother said sternly, catching up with her intentions “We’re just glad to see you again, Y/N”

“Thanks”

After dinner, Jin and you walked upstairs saying your goodbyes to the rest of his family to enter the bedroom, separately doing your night routines, you lied on one side of the bed as Seokjin prepped a few blankets and pillows in order to lie on the floor “I was just joking, you know? You could sleep on the other side of the bed” you said, feeling somewhat guilty at how he had taken your past statement as a rule

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable” he was quick to say, already tossing at being uncomfortable lying on the floor.

“Oh so now you’re being considerate?” you scoffed- sure, Seokjin was kind of a dick, most of the time, but he wasn't half as bad as most people his age and social status, but honestly speaking, if he was so preoccupied on making you uncomfortable, he wouldn’t have even proposed to make you go through this whole ordeal “After what I just had to go through with your sister?”

“Well you kind of accepted to come” he retorted in a soft voice, one you hadn’t listened to him use before, as if over the course of the short dinner time, something had changed in your relationship “A friend doing me a favour, you know?”

“Seokjin…” you trailed off, however as far as you two went back, after news broke that you were somewhat cut off from your father’s heirship, and everyone started treating you cold as ever, you would have thought Jin had gotten the clue “We stopped being friends a long time ago”

“What are you talking about” the night was filled with silence apart from your two whispering voices in the dark as both of you laid there

“Yeah after… that time, we hadn’t talked to each other until now” Describing your relationship with Seokjin was one of the most difficult things to do, while you were still part of the official lineage of your father’s, the Kims had actually even rooted for you to marry Seokjin, whomst you were head over heels at the time, both of you were, but Jin being the good son and heir to a tech emporium, had always disliked the way you stood up against your father and the whole elite thing your families had going on; needles to say, you both completely cut off any strings attached after you proclaimed your despise to the whole wealthy ordeal and you were vanished from your dad’s will.

“I fail to see your point” and for a second you would have loved to believe his soothing voice in the dark, to still be in friendly terms at least, with him, after all this time.

“Nevermind just- goodnight” you said as you turned on your side to cuddle the pillow in between your arms, his soft voice reaching your ears once more and for the last time in the night.

“Goodnight Y/N”

“I’m just going straight to the point here, Y/N what exactly do you plan on achieving by marrying my son?” Jin’s mother said as soon as you came down the stairs, Seokjin having left the room a while back

“Nothing ma’am, we’re just really in love” something inside you twisting at the lie that could have been truth if things were just a tiny bit different than how they were evolving at the time, the words leaving your lips sounding as the mere truth to your ears nonetheless

“I don’t buy that lovebirds facade, Y/N drop the act now” she turned to look directly at you, trying to sound menacing, which, would have worked, had it not been for you handling her for quite some time now, so you just tried your sweetest smile at her “Whatever you and Seokjin had when you were teens, your father and Seokjin’s father called it off”

“I know” you tried to conceal just how much the reminder hurted, the memories flooding into your mind, of you and Jin being engaged even before meeting each other, the good times you both spent together as friends, a few months as something more, then the lonely nights when it was all over and it had seemed like a dream that just wouldn’t ever come true.

“Just so you know, I’m keeping a close eye on you two” were her last words before leaving the kitchen, off to some other place in the house.

“Yes ma’am”

“Hey, Y/N, we’re heading to the beach you coming?” Seokjin asked as he laid his elbow on the counter, you pull him towards you, taking his hand in your smaller one as you watched his mother closing in on you two from the distance before she set her eyes elsewhere

He leaned in to you, whispering “What was that for?”

“Your mother knows something’s up” you shortly answered

“Y/N, I didn’t know you were coming” Seokjin’s father looked just as he did the last time you saw him years ago, his face contorting into an incredule one as he saw you descend from one of the cars that took you to the beach “Are you and your father on a better place now?”

“Oh no sir, I’m accompanying Seokjin” if he hadn’t believed your presence at first, he surely wasn’t believing the words leaving your mouth; Seokjin’s father had always had a soft spot for you, my hardest working tobe daughter-in-law, he had once said, and even after you and Seokjin’s engagement was called off, mainly by your father even when Jin’s mum said otherwise, his dad had offered you a place in his company’s headboard after you graduated, which you politely denied, knowing that someday, Seokjin would be CEO and you would have to work under his name directly.

“Seokjin? my son?” you nodded “What has Seokjin ever done to deserve you as his fiancee?”

“The same thing I keep repeating myself” you mutter more to yourself than for him to hear

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing!”

The weekend with Jin’s family was as monotonous as you remembered them to be, with family dinner after a day at the beach, plus the constant scrutinising eye of his mother on you two, which made you both hold hands more than the normal amount a real couple should, only to have to spend the night at a lonely bed.

“Jin, I’m cold”

“Well you sure aren’t planning on also taking my blanket from me, you’ve taken my bed already” he joked from his made up bed on the floor, which in hindsight, was probably even colder for him than for you

“Jin”

“No can’t do”

“Come cuddle me then” the words had left your mouth before your brain could even complete to process them, the situation all too familiar from years before, like muscle memory, your brain had just dwelled into a common relationship between the two, too easy to slip away from.

“Ohhh you’re already falling for worldwide handsome” he joked, only you knowing the truth his words hid behind them and you felt your face heat up, somehow deciding against backing up.

“Shut up just-” torn between spilling your “new found” feeling for him that were remains from a past love or keeping it the bare minimum “I’m cold”

“Fine, I’ll be there” he paused, and you knew him all too well to know that he was wearing a stuid grin on his face, wondering if by any chance the innocent banter had a deeper meaning for him too as he added “Almost fiancee”

You could hear a shuffling of blankets and him throwing his pillows on the bed before he literally jumped on it, whole body hovering over yours, his eyes glistening as they bore into yours as he kept his body weight on his extended hands, a familiar twist in your heart at the distance, his lips on yours in the blink of an eye for less than a second before he rolled off to the empty side of the bed

“What was that for?!” you panicked, not loud enough for anyone to hear but him

“I don’t know it felt right”

As you turned to confront him, the air suddenly didn’t feel as cold as before, a warmth enveloping you both that felt like home, like this place and time was exactly where you were supposed to be all along, your hands coming up to caress the side of his face as his larger ones tugged you closer to him effortlessly without breaking eye contact; both of your faces coming closer to each other, noses brushing against each other before your lips found his, an all too familiar setting for the both of you, everything feeling as if both of your lives had been a movie that had been unwillingly paused and someone had pressed play just as you were close like this, feeling as if all those years apart were nothing when together, his hot tongue lapping your lower lip as you granted him entrance, tongues dancing with one another as time seemed to slow down, a gasp escaping your lips as his cold hand found its way into your pajama pants “sorry, is this okay?” he whispered against your lips, to which you agreed, your own hands scurrying under his top to caress his torso, his lips finding your sweet spot under your ear all too easily, as if he had never forgotten about it, his pants straining by each passing second as you felt him grow harder against your thigh, hand going under the covers to palm him over the fabric, which made him exhale a moan in your ear, feeling yourself grow wetter at the display, all too familiar, yet not enough, you lunged yourself over him to straddle his hips, clothed core rubbing against his covered length in a futile attempt to ease the tension “ah- you’re sure about this, Y/N?” he found himself checking in with you before you both lost yourselves to pleasure “a hundred percent, Jin”.

Seokjin was quick to rid you both of your clothing, both of you grimacing at the cold and giggling about it for a second before you resumed your ways with one another, Jin’s tongue working its way down your body until he reached your folds, eating you out like a man starved, his hand finding yours to grip tight as he went down to business, lapping up your juices and working you to your first quieted orgasm of the night with a questionable experience, were you two to have never broken up in the first place; you quick to turn you both over so you were on top and ready to ride his apparently aching length as soon as he disctrated himself by kissing you post-bliss tasting yourself on his tongue, a smirk forming in his features as he reached on the bed side table to roll a condom on himself, your hands teasing him already as you muttered a “Your parents are in the next room” that was soon answered with a cocky “We shouldn’t let them hear then” before you lined him up with your entrance and slided down on him, hands gripping each other’s as you started working a pleasurable deep pace, moans tangling with the other’s, eyes fluttering shut and a lonely tear rolling down you cheek at all the emotions that you had pent up and were slowly releasing by each thrust as you buried your face on his neck, startling Jin and making you look down on him to check on you as he noticed you crying “Y/N, are you okay?” he muttered sweetly before kissing your lips in the sweetest form, hips stilling as he was buried deep inside you, him tossing you underneath him, angling his hips better and taking over a more passionate pace, plump lips kissing away your falling tears, as if knowing that they were caused by something bigger than the both of you “God you’re so beautiful” he said as his pace became erratic “Come with me please, Y/N” whether his words or the newly found position as he pulled a leg over his shoulder, hitting all the right spots, worked you to your second orgasm, followed by him spilling in the condom, would remain a mystery as he was quick to dispose the used condom and clean both of you as you edged on sleep, his naked torso colliding with your bare back as he cuddled you.

“What are they doing here?” You muttered under your breath as Jin leaned into your frame, your right arm intertwined with his as you both rounded the corner to greet the guests that Jin’s mother had so carefully selected for the engagement party

“What? Who?” his eyes scanned the room rapidly

“My father and- Seoyun and Junghee” his free hand rested on top of yours in an attempt to let you know he was there for you, having witnessed first hand all the history between you and your family and mentally cursing his mother for playing you so dirty

“Shit”

“Seokjin I can’t keep doing this” you turned to him, eyes panicked and wide on the verge of tears, his mind racing a hundred miles per second in search for the right words that would make you stay, he had already lost you before, and even though things didn’t quite turned out the way he had planned, he wasn’t about to let you slip away again “I can’t face them again, after all they’ve put me through, Seokjin, they took away my dreams just because I wouldn’t pace around like the rest of them, this is your life, not mine I’m so sorry” you had ran out of his grip and out the door before his brain could even begin to process it, blinking a few too many times before he called out to you

“Seokjinnie! What’s taking you so long?” his mother had gathered the guests in the garden for the grand entrance of the newly announced engagement, tired of being kept waiting, walking up to him

“I’m so sorry eomma, I’ll- I just- I have to go” in his mind he was already out the door looking for you, had it not been for his mother’s hand on his bicep keeping him on place and turning him to look at her

“Kim Seokjin, we get it. Your father and I will wait until you find a girl to marry, one that suits you well” Seokjin’s mother was sure a woman that could not be fooled, but this one time perhaps it was Jin that had been fooled by himself on letting himself get close to you and fall in love all over again, just the way it happened all those years ago, just the way it was supposed to be

“That’s what you don’t get mum, I’ve already found the one”

“Y/N? Jinnie, Y/N is not part of our world, you know it”

“Then I want to be part of hers. I don’t care if you take my trust fund, take everything, I’ll build myself up, just like she did all those years ago and all of us, we all turned our backs on her, I want to be there for her, like it should have been from the start” he would have loved to record the incredulity in his mother’s eyes as she let her arms fall to her sides defeated, the first time Kim Seokjin had fail to complied with his mother was about none other than in an engagement matter.

Truth be told, you couldn't go far, there was no possible way you could just run home all the way from Jeju Island, but somehow seeing your tear stained face as you slumped over an old set of swings that he now recalled, you two used to go to back in the day, had his heart filling up, butterflies roaming his tummy

“...Jin” you exhaled his name, his mind quickly recalling the night before, how your eyes spilled love all over, how the past days watching you go on your daily routine alongside him, had him imploding with the purest kind of love

“Y/N? Listen I-” he began, a thousand words tangled in his mind waiting to be released

“I don’t think I made it”

“Made what?”

“Your parents to like me” a smirk appeared in his features as his hand came up to caress the side of your face lovingly

“Well you certainly made me like you” he said, close enough to your lips that you could have sworn both of your breaths mixed into one

“I don’t think you ever stopped liking me” a mirroring grin traced your lips before you leaned in to kiss him, whatever the path you two were once destined to walk, it was all different now, whatever turns it may take the only sure thing was that you two would walk it down together after all those years apart.

Plus, technically speaking, Jin’s trust fund should remain intact since he found a wife in less than a month’s time, and you could always ask his dad for that place in the company he was always talking about.

#hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #kim seokjin smut #seokjin smut #seokjin imagine #seokjin oneshot #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfic #seokjin imagines #seokjin headcanon #seokjin fic #bts imagine #bts smut

355 notes · View notes

geeks-universe · 4 years ago

Text

Bound By Blood: Where Worry Wakes

Future Gabriel x Winchester!Reader

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

A/N: Some answers, but more questions.

Your father was gone. Again.

You felt a little more at peace with it than you had before. The first time you’d left your father behind had been after a fight, one that still hadn’t been fully resolved. You were glad you could say that this wasn’t nearly as drastic, but you still did feel like you needed him there.

You were going through something and you weren’t sure what it was, but you needed somebody. Your father had always been someone who could shelter you from the supernatural, so it only felt right that you take this matter to him. He was far too busy at the moment. You could talk to him about it after you killed the demon.

Until then, you’d just have to deal with the sympathetic smiles Sam kept sending your way and the worried looks Dean kept giving you.

Speak of the devil, you thought bitterly.

Dean kept flicking his eyes in your direction. It was getting pretty late, but the three of you hadn’t turned in for the night quite yet. Sam had already picked out your next case from some website that claimed to know all about the supernatural. You highly doubted it, but you’d take anything that would get your mind off of whatever was happening to you.

“You should get some sleep,” Dean suggested lowly, casting you a long, meaningful look.

You sighed.

“Someone needs to stay up with you,” you argued weakly, your eyelids already far too heavy to offer any real company for Dean.

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m a grown man, I think I can handle it,” he grumbled, adjusting his position in the seat so he would be a little more alert, if only for a few minutes.

“Only if you promise to pull over soon. We’re all exhausted, we could use a real night of sleep.”

He nodded.

“Deal,” he stated, looking back at Sam, who was currently cuddled up along the backseat of the Impala, resting as peacefully as one can whilst on a hunt for a demon and lying on a bench that’s two sizes too small.

“Dean?”

Your voice gave him pause. It was meek, quiet, unlike the sarcastic drawl or bubbly tone he was used to. You sounded vulnerable, and that scared the hell out of him, because out of everyone in this family, he knew without a doubt that you were the strongest emotionally.

“Yeah?”

His mouth was suddenly dry, eyes unable to focus on driving. His finger was nervously tapping against the wheel while he awaited your response. You were struggling to form your words, looking around for something that might remind you of what, exactly, you were trying to say.

“Forget it,” you muttered, not bothering to ask him for advice on what was going on. He wouldn’t know anyways.

Dean was about to argue, about to inquire about what seemed so imperative you ask him just a moment ago. But one look into your eyes deterred him. They were lost, distant, and so very tired. Your knuckles were white from the pressure of pressing them so hard against your palms, droplets of blood seeping from the place your nails met the smooth skin of your hands.

“Like I said,” Dean offered, “Get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

The lull into a fitful sleep wasn’t an easy one, especially with Dean keeping such a close eye on you. Eventually, though, your exhaustion trumped the thoughts running rampant in your mind, and you found yourself fading into a golden dreamworld.

You were aware that you were dreaming, but you didn’t fight it. Instead, you allowed the calm land of the world around you to help you relax.

“(Y/N).”

The voice wasn’t the lyrical tone you expected. It was harsh, a flaming red in a field of gold.

You reached forward, dragging your fingers along the golden blades of grass, as you tried to ground yourself in the dreamworld.

“You are unexpected.”

It was a man. You could just begin to make out features, the slope of his nose and the purse of his lips. He was staring at you like you were an enigma, one he could manipulate and forge into a warrior for his own cause.

Unconsciously, you took a step back, trying to put distance between you and him.

“Who are you?” You asked, your words uncharacteristically weak.

Just his presence in the sanctuary your mind had built for you felt wrong. It was tearing at the fabric of your consciousness, unwinding the golden symphony that had been protecting you.

Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

The scene before you shifted, the aureate world shattering into darkness. Your father was there, bleeding, his words venom as he spoke, though you couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. Lightning flashed, pulling your gaze to the dark sky as veins of light crackled across the heavens.

Sam was there now.

His body was in tremors, a force pulling him down and down, further into the dark abyss. Whispers of madness curled around his form, solidifying to blood. Fear gave way to strength, as his eyes darkened to a black, and the Sam you knew was gone, replaced by a demonic beast.

You were rooted to the spot as he advanced on you, far faster than what any human would be able to do. A cold hand shoved you backwards, and you fell.

You struggled to grasp onto something, anything that could stop you. There was nothing. You kept falling, accelerating as the swirling in your stomach became a pit. Air was torn from your lungs as your limbs flailed, your head spinning at the weightlessness suddenly thrust upon you.

Then you landed.

It wasn’t painful, like the fall might suggest, but rather filled with a dread you couldn’t acknowledge.

This time, Dean was there.

His eyes were wide open, mouth twisted in a scream he couldn’t release. Blue tinged at the edges of his fingers, where he reached for you, and you rushed to his side. His heart was still in his chest, his body cold. Tears gathered in your eyes as you realized he was dead.

Your voice was silenced as you tried to cry out, begging yourself to wake up from the nightmare. Reprieve was offered by a hand on your shoulder.

It was filled with a warmth you’d never felt before. Dean gasped, life festering in his eyes as he smiled at you, like he hadn’t been dead just a moment before.

“What-”

“Nightmares,” the owner of the hand on your shoulder provided. “Or the future, I can’t tell anymore.”

You wanted to look at him, to understand who it was, but you couldn’t. Your whole body was frozen, caught in the position of mourning, while you tried desperately to make sense of everything around you.

“Now, I’d really like to know who you are, because you keep interrupting my dreams, sugar.”

A light shake was enough to have you bolting upright, reaching instinctively to your hip, where your gun typically sat. You hadn’t even been able to process the world in front of you, hopping into action before another strange dream left you immobile.

“Woah, hey,” Sam held his hands up in surrender, the bright sun blinding you from behind his tall stature.

You released a breath, dropping your gun to the floor of the Impala, where you’d fallen asleep. It took a few seconds to compose yourself, your eyes slipping shut as a wave of dizziness passed.

“Look, if you’re not okay…”

“I’m fine,” you told him, shrugging off his help as you got to your feet. He still remained close by, vigilant, just in case you were to keel over. “Where are we?”

“Richardson,” he answered, grabbing both his and your bag from the trunk.

You fought a smile. Whenever Dean was worried about you, everyone in the vicinity knew about it. When Sam was worried though, he kept his actions a little more subtle. He’d take your bag in, or let you have the shower first. While being constantly worried about was a little smothering, you knew it was their way of expressing their love.

“Alright, where to first?”

There wasn’t a lot about the case you really knew, but Sam had done a decent bit of research to at least give you a place to start.

“For you? Here.” His tone brokered no argument, yet you found yourself disputing it anyways.

“You can’t keep me cooped up, you know.” You reminded him, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the Impala. “I’ve been hunting longer than you have.”

“Yes, but he hasn’t been… whatever the hell you’ve been lately.” Dean interjected, walking up to the driver’s side. He nodded his head in the direction of the motel room you would be staying in.

“We don’t really know what we’re walking into,” Sam reasoned, “I could use the extra help on the research front.”

Sam’s voice was much softer than Dean’s. He was trying to get you comfortable with the idea, rather than force it. You still frowned at being benched. Hunting was your escape more often than not, and without it you didn’t really know who you were.

“Just for this case,” you conceded, huffing while you did so.

Sam shot you a smile, but Dean kept a grim expression. You knew the two of you would definitely be clashing in the foreseeable future on whether you were prepared to hunt or not.

The two of them left shortly after without instructing you on anything about the case. Deciding it was better than being deadweight, you began the long and arduous journey of researching a hunting case. You really would’ve preferred being out in the field, but you didn’t have the energy of fighting both brothers right now.

A full day came and went of you doing little outside of research. You’d even called Bobby at one point, not because you needed anything, but because you were dreadfully bored.

You slept as little as possible, hoping to stay away from whatever was plaguing your dreams for the moment. It worked for the most part, but you knew it was only a temporary solution. After this case, you promised yourself you would divert more of your attention into understanding what was happening.

Between the three of you, you had discovered the haunting was little more than a farce- an urban legend turned real because of one pesky symbol and a whole lot of believing.

“We need your help,” Dean admitted, after having a long discussion with Sam.

You looked up from the book you were reading with interest.

“Nothing dangerous,” he reaffirmed, meeting you with a grimace.

You visibly deflated at his disregard for your capabilities again.

“Their names are Ed and Harry,” Dean continued, blatantly ignoring your annoyance at him, “We just need you to feed them a little story, help us take down the whole thing.”

“And why would they listen to me?” You inquired, raising a brow.

“You’re a girl,” Sam deadpanned from his place in the doorway. “I don’t know about this, maybe-”

“Relax, Samwise,” you waved off his concern, reminding him of the nickname you so lovingly gave him years ago, “Nothing dangerous, like Dean said.”

Your smile was too sweet, and your eyes too filled with mischief, but the brother’s didn’t argue.

This was your opportunity to remind them of how much of an asset you were. You weren’t about to disappoint, but you also weren’t about to miss out on having a little fun, especially at their expense.

#sam winchester x sister reader #dean winchester x sister reader #future gabriel x reader #gabriel imagine #supernatural imagine #ope we saw gabe #briefly #yes that was a confirmed gabe sighting #also can you guess who the real bad dude was?#ill give you one chance #you already know ed and harry are gonna be absolutely blown away #theyre meeting like a real life buffy #but even cooler #because i made the reader hella bad ass in this oops #bbb

64 notes · View notes