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ddaengtae · 4 years ago

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see you around || jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college, strangers (idiots) to lovers, fitness instructor! jungkook, fluff, smut

word count: 13.9k

summary: you know those beautiful strangers that you admire from afar and obsess over with your friends, but know there’s about a one percent chance they’ll ever talk to you or even know who you are? that’s precisely what jeon jungkook was to you; a piece of delicious eye candy that you could daydream about all you wanted, but had to accept that it was too unrealistic to ever happen. or so you thought. after an embarrassing accident at the gym that makes your worlds collide, maybe you had been wrong about your chances all along.

a/n: when i came up with this idea in my head, i guessed it would be around 5k words. guess my hands slipped. this is only my second bts fic, but after getting good feedback for my first one, i decided to give it another try and this is what happened. i tried to edit closely, but there may be a few types so i’m sorry! thanks for reading & pls lmk what you think. :)

Another week, another million reasons to be stressed. It really seemed like that was the never-ending pattern of the college lifestyle. The weekend was never long enough to truly allow yourself to unwind. Sure, those two days were great, but how was two days enough to destress from the agony of multiple all-nighters to keep up with the shitload of work that all of your professors always deemed it acceptable to assign? There was no way for you to prove it, but you believed in a conspiracy theory that all of the professors would meet up at the beginning of each semester and choose to make all of their huge assignments due on the same days just to fuck all of their students over. There could be no other explanation for the hell that was midterms season.

While during your first two years of college you would barely be hanging on by a thread during the busiest weeks of the semester, you were now a junior and had at last adopted a regime that helped you burn off some steam when the tension became all too much. Somewhere along the way, you started to realize that inhaling mozzarella sticks and Red Bull at two in the morning the night before an exam did very little to make you feel better and that it would probably be a better idea to take up a healthy lifestyle and better time management skills sooner rather than later. In the process of getting your life together, one Tuesday evening in the spring of your sophomore year, one of your roommates had convinced you to accompany her to a group fitness class at the gym on campus. To your surprise, you fell in love with it and the feeling of adrenaline and accomplishment that came along with making it through the hour. From that day on, you vowed to yourself to make it to the gym most days of the week.

There was something about group fitness classes that made you feel much more comfortable than going to the gym and working out on your own. Perhaps most glaringly, the classes were dominated with like-minded girls who just wanted some peace of mind for an hour. Most of the instructors were girls too, except for a few guys who seemed to understand why a lot of women chose to avoid the rest of the gym. It was quite unsettling to work out by yourself on the main floor and be surrounded by conceited guys who always seemed to either be undressing you with their eyes or judging you because, god forbid, you couldn’t squat three-hundred pounds like they could. The whole place just always reeked of toxic masculinity, or so that was what you had thought until you found out about the group fitness classes that the facility also held. They seemed to be a sort of heavenly escape from the rest of the place that resembled a fraternity initiation ceremony.

That was precisely where you found yourself this Monday evening. In dire need of a break from studying, you found yourself sitting on the floor of the group classroom surrounded by your equipment and waiting for your favorite instructor to arrive. The concept of a high-intensity circuit training class had initially terrified you when you first decided to try it out last semester, but it had quickly become your favorite class and one that you attended every week without fail. It was incredibly satisfying to track your progress and watch your body evolve as you adapted to be able to lift heavier weights and make it through the cardio outbreaks without feeling like you were going to drop dead every second.

Taking a long sip of your water, your eyes remained down on your phone as you heard the door of the room open and close again. As it was still ten minutes before class, you didn’t think much of it and assumed it was probably just more people piling into the room and rushing to get their equipment ready.

“Uh, hi guys! The usual instructor for the class is unfortunately sick so I’m filling in for her tonight,” an unfamiliar-- but yet also eerily recognizable-- male voice echoed through the room. “I was just recently certified so this is actually the first class I’ll be teaching here. I promise I’ll try to live up to her hype.” The unknown source let out an awkward laugh, which was met with relative silence from the rest of the room.

The moment your eyes moved up to fall upon the new instructor, your breath hitched in your throat, causing the water you had been attempting to drink to flow down the wrong pipe. This wasn’t just any unmemorable college boy filling in to instruct the class. There at the front of the room stood none other than Jeon Jungkook. The breathtaking Jeon Jungkook was going to be leading the class and you were supposed to be able perform-- let alone breathe-- properly? Oh no.

You and Jungkook were not friends by any means. Hell, it was highly likely that the boy didn’t even know who you were. You know those beautiful strangers that you admire from afar, yet know there’s about a one percent chance that they will ever know who you are or ever speak to you? The ones you tell all of your friends about and you go out of your way to use your FBI-level stalking skills to find their social media in hopes of finding out more about them so you can daydream about your nonexistent, fantasy future together? The ones you’re always hoping you’ll cross paths with while walking to class because even a glance of them will make your day a little more exciting and give you something to talk about with your friends? That was what Jungkook was to you.

Jungkook had become known as ‘hot coffee shop boy’ amongst your friend group after you had noticed him studying in the same coffee shop as you one day in the fall of your sophomore year. As you always chose to study at the least favorite and therefore least populated coffee shop on campus, it was shocking the first time someone as beautiful as Jungkook sat down at one of the tables across from yours and settled in to do his homework as well. His presence offered you a paradox; while seeing him looking like a model wearing his oversized clothes and sighing at his laptop screen was certainly a distraction at times, it also served as a form of motivation to force you to focus because you didn’t want him thinking you were slacking off. He seemed to enjoy the quiet ambience of the specific shop because after that first day, he began to frequent it almost as often as you, always sitting at the same table by the third window. On some occasions, one of his friends who always seemed to be changing hair colors would accompany him. After some research completed by your enamored friend Jennie who sometimes accompanied you, she discovered his name was Park Jimin. He quickly became known as ‘iced chai’ after that seemed to be his regular coffee order.

It was an exciting day amongst your friends on the first day of classes in the spring of your sophomore year when Jungkook happened to enroll in the same Earth Science lecture as you to satisfy the science gen-ed requirement at your university. Rocks and rivers weren’t exactly interesting, but the back of Jungkook’s head from the row in front of you certainly was. The group chat really blew up the day he spun around in his chair and asked you if he could borrow a pen. They were right that it would’ve been easier for him to just ask one of the people next to him, but you were smart enough to not think into it too much. Maybe you just seemed like the type of person to carry around an abundance of stationery materials (you weren’t, and you ended up not taking any notes that day after giving him the only pen you had).

So here you were, practically choking on your water as Jungkook started to set up his own equipment at the front of the room. How dare he invade your safe space? You suddenly felt as if you barely remembered how to do a jumping jack, let alone have the facilities to pick up a weight.

After organizing his weights at the front of the room, Jungkook’s eyes began to scan the participants in the room, likely counting how many people had shown up. The moment his eyes met yours, your whole body froze in place. Oddly enough, his seemed to do the same. His doe eyes became wide and his mouth fell into an ‘o’ as he looked at you for a few seconds too long, and you swore there was an expression of recognition on his face. Before you could convince yourself that anything of the sort had truly happened, Jungkook was blinking rapidly and shaking his head at himself before his eyes darted away to scan and count the rest of the room.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to get started in a minute here,” Jungkook announced a minute later, looking down at his phone as he connected his music and began blasting it through the speakers. “Just remember to follow my lead and please don’t hesitate to wave me over if you have any questions or are struggling with form. I’ll try to keep an eye on all of you and come over to help you out anyway.” His eyes crinkled into crescent moons as he offered the class a big bunny smile. Oh god, you were going to pass out. “We’re going to be starting with a pretty intense cardio circuit here to bring those heart rates right up and set the tone for the rest of class.” Great. Your heart rate was already accelerating through the roof just at the sight of him. “Try to keep up, but if you need to grab some water or take a break at any point, please don’t hesitate to do so. We’re going to get started in 3… 2… 1… Go!”

To your surprise, you were able to make it through the first couple of circuits without too much trouble. You made it your mission to zone in on each of the exercises you were doing, and that every time you were forced to face forward you would fixate your gaze on the back of the girl in front of you. It was shockingly easy to forget about the beautiful man in front of the room while you were gasping for breath after numerous rounds of burpees and mountain climbers. The goal was to look calm and fit without calling attention to yourself. Outside of your heavy breathing that was likely being drowned out by Jungkook’s loud music, you could say you were succeeding.

About twenty minutes into the class, Jungkook signaled a transition into an upper body circuit. While you were delighted to get a break from cardio and to allow your heart rate to calm down for a bit, following the exercises now required you to face forward and watch for his cues. This would be fine as long as you didn’t focus on his gorgeous face that was currently glistening with sweat in the most pleasing way possible, right?

“Alright, we’re going to start off here with some overhead shoulder presses for the first minute. I’d recommend something on the lighter side, but make sure you’re challenging yourself.” With a slight nod of his head, Jungkook picked up his own weights and counted down the class to begin the first exercise of the circuit.

Shoulder presses weren’t bad. You could do this. Inhaling a deep breath, you made an attempt to wipe your sweaty palms off on your leggings before picking up your dumbbells and getting in position to begin your shoulder presses. After the first few reps, you quickly fell into a rhythm that was both comfortable yet challenging, feeling that delicious burn in your shoulder muscles. At the halfway mark through the minute, your eyes had remained glued to the same girl in front of you. You finally felt a sense of peace. One look at Jungkook couldn’t hurt, right?

Wrong.

Against your better judgement, you decided to shift your eyes to the front of the room and take a good luck at a combination of both Jungkook’s back and the reflection of the front of his body through the mirror before him.

The string of events that occurred immediately after that moment was a blur. As Jungkook pressed his set of dumbbells above his head, his baggy shirt slid up his body, exposing his sweaty, toned abs that looked as though they were sculpted by the gods themselves. What was likely an audible gasp escaped from your lips as your eyes remained frozen on the sight in front of you. It was unclear if it was your mesmerized state, your sweaty hands, or a combination of both, but seconds later, the dumbbell in your right hand slipped out of your grasp and quickly went crashing downward.

“Oh my... Fuck!”

There was a moment of dissociation before you realized that the loud cry had, in fact, come out of your mouth, and that the dumbbell that had glided out of your hand had, in fact, come crashing down onto the big toe of your right foot. Your head was spinning as you began to process the throbbing feeling radiating throughout your entire foot, as well as the weight of what had just occurred. Within moments, the eyes of all of the participants were on you, as well as the eyes of the one person whose attention you really did not want in such an embarrassing moment. No, no, no.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Jungkook’s panicked voice echoed throughout the room as he spoke into his headset and he quickly dropped his weights on the ground. “Um, okay, the rest of you can keep going! I’m going to get someone else to come in within a few minutes so I can help her.” Within moments, he was shoving his way through the room until he was right in front of you and pulling the microphone away from his mouth so the rest of the class wouldn’t hear your interaction. “Are you alright? Oh my god, you shouldn’t be putting pressure on it. Let’s get you out of here and get some ice.”

You genuinely thought you were going to pass out. It had little to do with your toe, and a whole lot to do with Jungkook’s sudden closeness. His concerned face was just inches away from yours as his eyes scanned yours for any sort of explanation for what had just unfolded. His presence was intoxicating. You could smell the combination of his cologne and sweat, and you had yet to tear the image of his gleaming six-pack out of your mind. Oh my god. That had really just happened. The first impression you made on Jungkook, AKA hot coffee shop boy, was you making an absolute fool out of yourself and possibly breaking your toe while doing a simple exercise. You were never going to live this one down. You were going to throw up.

When you hadn’t responded to Jungkook within a few seconds, he took it upon himself to drape an arm over your shoulders and pull your body against his side. “Here, lean against me so you’re not putting weight on it. I’m going to bring you to the first-aid room and get you some ice… At the very least.”

It was quite possible that your brain had chosen it was better to black out the memory as Jungkook began to pull you out of the room, yelling to one of the workers at the front desk to quickly find someone else to take over the class. Your legs felt like jelly as they moved beside his, only functioning out of muscle memory rather than true volition. Here you were, body pressed against that of the guy you had admired from afar for over a year. In any other circumstance, this would have been like a dream come true. Instead, you wished the ground would swallow you up and put you out of your misery.

It wasn’t long until you were pulled into what was likely the first-aid room and instructed to sit on top of the counter by a very stressed Jungkook. The more you thought about it, the more horrible you felt. Not only was this the Jeon Jungkook of your fantasies, but it was also the Jeon Jungkook who had informed the class before it had started that this was the first class he had ever led. You had quite literally ruined his first class, and had set an appalling example of what he would expect going forward. If your toe hadn’t been throbbing, you would have seriously considered running right out the door.

“Okay, if you don’t mind, just take off your shoe and sock while I try to find an ice pack,” Jungkook commanded as he nervously raked a hand through his already-messy hair, frantically rifling through the cabinets. Your eyes watched his back as you followed his instructions, guilt filling your entire body. He seemed stressed. Nervous, even. It made sense, if you thought about it. Your foolish accident had just become his responsibility, and he was a new employee. You would be nervous too.

“Found one,” he breathed out, hitting it against the counter a couple of times to activate the coldness. As he turned around to face you, his eyes wandered down to your exposed toe. “Oh no, that looks pretty swollen. Does it hurt really badly? Are you okay?”

“It doesn’t feel great, but I’m okay.” No, no you were not okay, but you needed this to be over. Meeting his eyes, you realized those were the first words you had spoken to him since this whole debacle had unraveled. He probably thought you were crazy. Taking the ice pack from him, you chewed on your lower lip. “I’m… I’m really sorry.”

Jungkook furrowed his brow as he looked up from your foot to meet your gaze, tilting his head to the side. “Huh? You have no reason to be sorry. Accidents happen. I get it… I’m pretty clumsy too sometimes and have hurt myself much worse than this for much stupider reasons. Really, don’t worry.” He was rambling, and if you hadn’t been so distraught, you would have perhaps realized just how nervous he really seemed. Offering you a shy smile, his eyes averted away from yours as his cheeks flushed a shade of bright red. Redder than they should have been from just working out.

Looking down at your foot, you placed the ice pack on top of it and shook your head. It was difficult to form words with him so close, but you knew you had to if you wanted to redeem yourself at all. You already had created a mental plan to avoid him at all costs and hide from him whenever that wasn’t possible, but this was the least you could do. “No, I’m really sorry. You said at the beginning that this was your first class and I… I kind of ruined it for you. I’m sure you were really excited about it.”

Jungkook remained occupied with your toe as he moved the ice pack to the side, feeling around the bones and moving it gently in various directions to see how bad the pain was. “I don’t think it’s broken. Definitely pretty swollen, but not broken. However, I’m clearly not a doctor so you might want to get a second opinion.” Standing up straight, he offered you a warm smile. “But seriously, don’t worry about it. There’s always going to be more classes for me to teach and I wasn’t just going to let you suffer there. I’m happy to help.”

God, not only was he gorgeous, but he was also this friendly? It was possible that he was just being nice to keep you calm and keep his job, but regardless, he just seemed so perfect. So perfect that you feared being so close to him, for your endless flaws felt as if though they were being magnified. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to return the smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.” You needed to escape. You needed to get out of there so you could cry to your friends about just how mortified you were and how you now really never stood a chance with hot coffee shop boy. “I should probably get going. Don’t want to hold you up any longer.”

“You’re not holding me up at all, I promise,” Jungkook responded a bit too quickly, but yet again, you were too focused on your own embarrassment to notice. Crossing his arms over his chest, the tall man tilted his head to the side. “How are you going to get back to your dorm? Do you have a ride? You definitely shouldn’t be walking on your toe.”

Fuck. He had a good point. Regardless of the pain flowing through your foot, you were willing to walk on it just to escape this situation. However, you knew you couldn’t tell him that. “I, uh, one of my roommates has a car and I was going to call her to pick me up.”

“I have my car here. I could drive you.”

Wait, what? Had he really just offered you a ride? If you had met his gaze, you would’ve seen that he looked just as surprised that such an offer had slipped out of his lips so casually. Instead, you stared down at your lap as you attempted to process his suggestion. If the situation had been even slightly less humiliating, a car ride with the Jeon Jungkook would have sounded like one of your fantasies come to life. However, at the current moment all you could imagine was the intense awkward silence that would likely fill the car as you contemplated how to successfully fling yourself out of the window. That would not do right now. You were not in the right headspace to muster up any coherent form of small talk. The offer was likely just extended out of pity anyway. He was a good guy and deemed that that would be the righteous thing to do. No need to burden him and actually make him follow through with it.

“No, no. I wouldn’t make you do that. I’m going to text my friend right now,” you assured him, weakly smiling as you moved the ice pack to the side to retrieve your removed sock and shoe. “You have a workout to finish anyway.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” Jungkook insisted, watching intently as you carefully put your sneaker back on and tied it up at lightning speed. When he realized you had no plans of speaking again, a defeated sigh pressed through his lips. Why was he so set on helping you? “Okay, okay. As long as your friend is coming soon, that’ll work. I can walk you to the lobby though.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to let you just run out of the room alone, you forced yourself to nod your head in agreement. You were being dramatic. You could handle one more minute in his presence before you imploded. “Sure, thanks.” The response came off a bit snappier than you had intended, but did that really matter at this point? You weren’t going to be able to show your face around him ever again to begin with.

Once you pushed yourself off of the counter, Jungkook encouraged you to lean most of your weight against him as he led you out the door. As you were already on the first floor of the facility, the walk to the lobby luckily didn’t take too long. Upon arrival, you plopped down in one of the plush chairs by the door, fishing your phone out of the pocket of your hoodie and pretending to draft a text. In all honesty, the moment Jungkook disappeared, you intended to wobble your way back to your dorm by twisting your foot to the side to avoid putting pressure on the big toe. You were well aware that you were going to look ridiculous, but nothing could be more mortifying than what you had already experienced.

Jungkook stood over your chair, rubbing the back of his neck as he rocked from side to side on his feet. Something about him just exuded nervous energy, and it was making you feel even more on edge. “You’re sure your friend is able to come soon, right?”

Nodding your head in response, you lifted your hand into a thumbs-up that you regretted the second your hand formed it. God, you might as well have hit him with some finger guns. Could you be any cringier? “Yes, don’t worry. She’s on her way. Really, thank you though.”

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his athletic shorts, Jungkook’s eyes scanned your face one last time. It was almost as if he was searching for any hint of a lie, but if he had been, he wasn’t able to find it. “Okay, okay… If you insist. I’m sorry this had to happen to you. I hope it heals quickly.” His lips stretched into that signature bunny smile you had witnessed so many times while seeing him with his friends in public, but it almost looked a little more… Bashful. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

No, no he would not. You weren’t even sure that he had recognized you from being at the same coffee shop so often, but regardless, you had already planned to avoid the location at all costs. You couldn’t stand the thought of him possibly approaching you out of pity to check and see if you were okay.

Instead of expressing any of these concerns, you twisted your lips into a small smile and nodded your head at him. “Mhmm. See you around.”

After lifting his hand in a wave, Jungkook smiled at you once more before turning on his heel and slowly starting to make his way back toward the main area of the gym. You watched as he began to disappear, as you planned on rushing out the door the moment he was out of sight. Right before he rounded the corner, his body twisted to face you once more. If you hadn’t been so fixated on your own embarrassment, maybe you would’ve noticed the way his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red before he nervously laughed to himself and rounded the corner quickly so he was out of your line of vision.

The moment he disappeared, you gathered your belongings and rose to your feet a bit too quickly, immediately noticing how you forgot to avoid putting pressure on your toe. Fighting through the pain and fighting to maintain any sense of pride you had left, you began your walk-- or rather, wobble-- home.

God, you needed some wine.

The rest of the week passed by without much trouble, but maybe that was due to your advanced avoiding skills. Due to having three midterms throughout the week, most of your time was spent holed up alone studying. While you usually would do most of your studying in your favorite quiet coffee shop, you made it a point to steer clear of it at all costs. You were well aware that Jungkook also spent a lot of his time in that specific location, and you weren’t ready to show your face to him if it could be prevented. He had been right; your toe wasn’t broken, but instead just badly bruised. While your toe may have been fine, your ego certainly wasn’t. After stumbling home after the incident on that Monday evening, your roommates had a laughing fest at your expense over a few too many bottles of wine. They attempted to convince you that what had happened really wasn’t that embarrassing, that Jungkook seemed to be really sweet about it, and that such a chaotic event would be ‘the most epic story to tell people about the start of your relationship at your wedding.’ Although you indulged in their pipe dreams for the time being, you were going to stick to your plan: avoid Jungkook at all times possible until enough time had passed that he likely forgot about your humiliating catastrophe.

After a week of cramming for exams and perfecting your evading abilities, you were beyond ready to take a night to unwind and destress. That was precisely why you found yourself out at one of popular college bars by your campus with your friend Jennie on Friday night. The pair of you weren’t exactly the type to go out and let loose very often as you tried your best to prioritize your studies, but once you allowed yourself to get dressed up and had a few vodka-crans running through your veins, you understood why a lot of college students went out so often and remembered why you used to so much during your freshman year. The sensation of being tipsy and laughing with your friends was truly therapeutic and a much-needed antidote to counteract the toxic environment of never-ending stress.

Having been at the bar for over an hour, it started to get quite crowded. As you twirled your straw around in your half-empty drink, you watched as Jennie began to look around at all of the new faces in the bar before freezing and pursing her lips. “Okay, not to make you freak out or anything… But hot coffee shop boy AKA sexy fitness instructor boy AKA Jeon Jungkook is here,” she whisper-yelled at you as she leaned toward your ear. “He seems drunk… Like really drunk.”

Blinking rapidly as you tried to process this new information, you pulled back from her and began to shake your head. This certainly was not what you needed to hear right now, but the alcohol in your system calmed you down at least a little bit so you didn’t immediately book it out of the place. “So what you’re telling me is that I need to hide in the bathroom for the rest of the night?” Despite your fears, you really wanted to get a glance of him. Although the bar was quite large, you told yourself it would be too risky. If experience had taught you anything, it was that even one glance at him could be fatal for you.

“Stop being ridiculous,” Jennie scoffed, shoving your shoulder before taking a long sip of her drink. Her gaze remained set on the area of the crowded bar that you refused to look toward. “He’s…” She paused for a moment before her eyes widened. “Okay, I might be a little drunk, but I’m almost positive he keeps looking over here.”

“Maybe because you’re staring at him and drawing attention to us,” you scolded, narrowing your eyes at her. “Please stop before I jump over the actual bar and hide behind it.”

Jennie laughed at your dramatic suggestion, eyeing your nervous persona up and down. “Relax, relax.” She looked over your shoulder yet again. “Oh, wait. He’s on the move now so I don’t think you have to worry.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you took an extra long sip of your drink. “Thank god. I don’t need to relive my earlier trauma on a night out.”

“Wait, fuck. I think--”

“Ah, is that toe girl?!”

Your whole body froze as you heard the close proximity of a very familiar male voice behind you. You wanted to believe that your initial guess of what was occurring wasn’t true, but the mixture of shock and amusement on Jennie’s face as she looked over your shoulder at the sight behind you confirmed that your worst nightmare was, in fact, true.

Sucking in a deep breath and downing the rest of your drink before placing it down on the bar, you gave yourself a mental pep talk before slowly turning on your heel to face the source of the voice. If there hadn’t been a decent amount of alcohol in your system, you were quite certain that you would’ve passed out right then and there.

There before you stood Jungkook with a cheeky grin spread across his lips and arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at, unfortunately, you. He was sporting a pair of tight, ripped black jeans and a matching black t-shirt. The clasping of a beer bottle in one hand and the way his arms were folded made his bicep muscles protrude in a manner that had you ready to start drooling. Jennie had been right; his face was glowing a bright shade of red, likely due to a great deal of alcohol consumption.

Clearing your throat, you forced your lips into a shy smile as you folded your hands together in front of you. You wished you hadn’t finished your drink so you had something more natural to do with your hands. It felt as if though your heart was going to explode through your chest, but he was here now and there was no escaping. “God, is that really what I’m known as now?”

“I mean, kind of.” Jungkook let out a loud laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. How was he so fucking gorgeous? And why the fuck was this beautiful man going out of his way to talk to you on a night out? “But I won’t call you that anymore. It’s Y/N, right?”

Your brow furrowed as your mouth opened in surprise. Wait, what? Jungkook knew your name? It felt like your mind was moving at a million miles a minute trying to process just how that could be possible.

A hand reached out from behind you to squeeze your shoulder, Jennie stepping forward and revealing herself after you had forgotten about her existence for a minute. Her lips were twisted upward into a mischievous smile. “I see a couple of my friends from one of my classes. Gonna go say hi to them. I’ll meet up with you later.” After not-so-discreetly wiggling her eyebrows at you, she mouthed what appeared to be “good luck” before sauntering off.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now.” Jungkook chuckled quietly as he watched Jennie walk away before setting his eyes back on you and smiling warmly. You were convinced that his smile was going to be the death of you. “Hopefully you won’t try to run off as quickly as you did the other day.”

“I did not run off!” you scoffed immediately, crossing your own arms over your chest as you feigned offense. Once again, thank god for alcohol, for you were well aware that this conversation would not be happening without it. He was right, but you hadn’t realized he had noticed your urgency in escaping that day. ‘I… I wasn’t even aware that you knew my name.”

“Suuure you didn’t. You couldn’t get away from me fast enough,” Jungkook teased, leaning forward a bit to nudge his shoulder against yours. The area of skin he touched immediately felt like it was on fire, as did your cheeks. “But of course I know your name. We had Earth Science together last year and you’re always studying at the same coffee shop by North campus that I do. You’re kind of hard to miss.”

You? Hard to miss? Not to mention, the Earth Science class was a lecture with over one hundred students in it, and the professor hardly ever took any form of attendance. Sure you could say the same thing about you knowing his name, but that was only because you had gone out of your way to find out who he was after becoming captivated by him upon seeing him at the coffee shop. This didn’t make any sense. Were you dreaming? Hallucinating?

Raising an eyebrow at him, you decided to keep your response simple. “You’ve never talked to me, though…”

“I know, I know.” Jungkook unfolded his arms and clasped both of his hands around his beer bottle, staring down at his fingers as he tapped them against the glass. Maybe it was the dim lighting in the bar, but you could’ve sworn his cheeks darkened as he avoided your eyes. The aroma of cologne and beer coming off of him at the close proximity had you feeling light-headed. “I’ve always wanted to. Planned to talk to you at the coffee shop this week, but you were nowhere to be seen. You just… I… You’re really pretty and you’re always smiling and I kind of freaked out when I saw you taking that class on Monday. I’m pretty shy and not exactly the most confident person so I have no idea why I’m saying this right now… Definitely all of the beer I’ve drank… But I probably shouldn’t be overstepping or saying any of this anyway since I’m starting to realize that you’ve probably been avoiding me or think I’m weird or something. Sorry for offering to drive you home the other day… I realized after that that probably seemed creepy coming from a total stranger.” He looked to the side as he began to nervously tap his foot against the floor. Something that sounded like a nervous laugh pressed through his lips. “Fuck. This is why I barely ever drink.”

Your body remained frozen as you stared at the side of his face, fully aware of the fact that your jaw had dropped and you were visibly gaping at him. No. There was absolutely no way that those words came out of his mouth and he meant them. It had to be the excessive amount of alcohol in his system, right? Or maybe he was just sweet talking you to try to get laid. That had to be it, right? You weren’t sure if you were going to throw up, pass out, or do both at the same time. The vodka taking over your own system was preventing you from being able to form any sort of coherent thought. Still, he deserved a response.

“What? I don’t think you’re weird at all,” you reassured, chewing on your lower lip as you tried to read the expression on his face. God, you really could have come up with something better than that.

Jungkook’s doe eyes at last met yours again, a disbelieving look in his eyes. “Then why’d you lie and say your friend was picking you up and end up walking home on a possibly broken toe instead of letting me drive you home?”

Oh my god, he had seen you do that? You were certain he was completely out of sight when you had dragged yourself out of the building. To be fair, you hadn’t taken into account the fact that the place was covered with windows that would have given anyone access to see outside the front of the building, but why would he have been looking anyway? Just as you thought that day couldn’t have gotten any more embarrassing, it did.

The mix of alcohol in your system and your heart pounding in your chest was quickly becoming too much to handle and making you lose control over your faculties. Maybe that was why you blurted out, “I-I don't know… You make me nervous.”

“You make me nervous too!”

Before you could even begin to comprehend the weight of his words, another male figure popped up beside Jungkook and draped an arm over his shoulders. His bright pink hair made him easily identifiable. It was iced chai, also known as Park Jimin. If Jennie had noticed he was there, she certainly would have been freaking out.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you. You just disappeared on me,” Jimin informed Jungkook, his gaze quickly moving to set on your distraught form. If you hadn’t been so out of sorts, perhaps you would’ve noticed the look of recognition in his eyes as they set on you. “I’m sorry, is he bothering you? He never usually goes out with us and gets drunk like this, so I’m sorry if he’s a little chaotic.”

Shaking your head at Jimin, you offered him a comforting smiling. You could feel Jungkook’s concerned eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. “No, no. He’s not bothering me at all, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thank god. I was worried he might do something stupid.” Jimin let out a sigh of relief, looking between the pair of you. Could that ‘something stupid’ be what had just occurred? At last, he gave Jungkook a firm pat on the shoulder. “We have to get going right now. Hoseok thought it’d be a good idea to down five tequila shots in a row after all of the beer we drank back at the dorm. He has his head down on the bar with his eyes closed and I want to get him out of here before he starts puking everywhere. Afraid you might end up in the same state if you keep drinking at this pace too, dude.”

“I’m fiiine,” Jungkook snapped back at him, rolling his eyes as he shrugged Jimin’s arm off of his shoulder. He peered at you for a quick second before his eyes averted downward, the nerves that had been there before refusing to go away. After taking a few moments to ponder what his friend had just told him, he let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. We can go. Only because it’s Hoseok though.”

“I’ve already requested the Uber so we should head outside now,” Jimin urged, glancing over toward where Hoseok likely was sitting at the bar.

“Um.” Jungkook at last forced himself to look at you, his lips curving upward into the slightest smile. It seemed forced though, and you knew it was because you didn’t have the opportunity to elaborate on and finish the conversation you were having before Jimin butted in. You also felt as if though you were about to self-implode and needed some time to comprehend what had just unfolded. “Sorry. I have to get going, I guess. I’ll see you around though, okay?”

Nodding your head in agreement, you allowed yourself to return a reassuring smile. “Okay. I’ll see you around.” This time, it was possible that you meant it.

After he gave you one last anxious look, he turned on his heel and followed Jimin’s lead, disappearing out of your sight.

Where the fuck was Jennie?

After scoping out Jennie in the corner of the bar, you had convinced her that it was absolutely necessary to immediately take an Uber home to debrief on what had occurred. Within half an hour, you had managed to arrive back safely to your dorm and had replaced your uncomfortable clothes with pajamas and your vodka crans with a bottle of wine. Although your mind felt quite foggy from trying to piece together everything that Jungkook had said, you were able to provide Jennie with at least the majority of the details.

“Wait, hold on. Let me think about this.” Jennie threw herself back against your bed, staring up at the ceiling after her head hit the pillows. “So basically what you’re telling me is that you are to Jungkook what Jungkook is to you? Like he pretty much admitted to admiring you from afar and being too afraid to talk to you all of this time?” she questioned, eyes wide in amazement. “God damn, why can’t shit like this happen to me? This is like some fairytale shit. You’re so fucking lucky.”

Taking a big swig directly out of the bottle of cheap rosé, you let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know. It seems too good to be true. Like, what if he was just really drunk and didn’t know what he was saying? You even said he seemed really drunk. Or like, what if he was just being nice because he was trying to get laid?”

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous. I know this all seems so unreal because we never thought something like this was possible, but the things he said to you were way too specific to just be a fluke.” Jennie sat up straight again and pulled the bottle of wine out of your hands, taking a sip herself. “Besides, I was watching you guys from across the bar. He looked absolutely smitten with you and ridiculously nervous, drunk or not.”

“Fuck, I’m so much better at just daydreaming about guys than actually knowing how to talk to them and attempting to form actual relationships,” you groaned out, closing your eyes and resting your head on Jennie’s shoulder. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I hate to break it to you since I know this is very out of character for you, but you’re going to have to make the next move. He laid his cards on the table, and now the ball is in your court.” Jennie allowed her head to fall on top of yours and passed the bottle of wine back to you. “Based on what you explained to me, you didn’t really provide him with a whole lot of reassurance that the feeling was mutual and he’s probably feeling super embarrassed right now… Like, definitely more embarrassed than you felt after the whole gym incident. You have to let him know that you’re interested in him too.”

Letting out a huff, you tapped your fingers against the glass of the bottle of wine. Jennie did have a valid point, as much as you hated to admit it. Regardless of Jungkook’s intentions and just how drunk he may have been, he had seemed incredibly flustered after rambling on and exposing what he had to you. As much as there was still a part of you that was convinced that he hadn’t meant what he said, there was a bigger part of you that was excited about what this could possibly lead to if you followed through with it. You would have to throw away your nerves and muster up the tiny bit of confidence you had if this was ever going to happen.

“Okay, so what’s the game plan?”

The plan you and Jennie had concocted ended up being a lot more difficult to follow through with than you had initially imagined. The original scheme involved you approaching him at the coffee shop you both always studied at, but despite the numerous occasions you dropped by and spent hours studying there over the next week, he was nowhere to be found. It was almost as if he had adopted the same avoiding technique you had the week prior after being embarrassed at what unfolded at the gym. You weren’t exactly surprised, but it was making this whole thing a lot more complicated for you. Furthermore, the longer it dragged out, the more anxious you got that maybe this was all a bad idea and that you had misunderstood what he said at the bar.

After a week with no luck, Jennie had convinced you that maybe it would be a better idea to try to track him down at the gym. Despite going almost every day and keeping your eyes peeled for him, he was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until a few days later that it dawned on you that the group fitness class schedule was posted online, and that it was possible that he now had some classes that were officially assigned to him. Sure enough, upon checking the recreation website, you quickly discovered that he did have a couple classes that he was set to teach. While this information certainly was helpful, it was quite unfortunate that every class he led happened to be at the ass-crack of dawn. God, were you really interested in the type of guy who gets up extra early to work out? Apparently so.

So that was precisely how you found yourself rolling up to the gym at 6:45am on a Tuesday morning, eyes heavy with exhaustion as you searched for the room the class was being held in. Your heart was pounding and your palm was sweaty against your water bottle, but you were too dedicated to turn around at this point. You had spent over a week trying to track him down, and you at last had.

When you entered the room, Jungkook had not arrived yet. There were already quite a few girls in the room setting up their equipment, so you followed suit. As most participants were often too intimidated to take the spots up front and center in front of where the instructor stood, you took it upon yourself to do the honors. Of course you knew this would make Jungkook want to run the other way, but the thrill of making him as nervous as you were that last time was too exciting to turn down.

The door of the room opened and closed once more, and you didn’t even have to look up to feel his presence. Here we go. “Hi, everyone! Welcome to class. My name is Jungkook and I’ll be your instructor toda--” His voice cut off at the end of his statement, and when you finally allowed your eyes to set on him, he was already looking at you with wide eyes and tinted cheeks. Within a millisecond, his eyes found the ground and he apprehensively took his spot directly in front of you. The poor guy didn’t have a choice. “U-Um, if you guys have any questions before we get started, please don’t hesitate to wave me over!” You had a very strong feeling he was praying you wouldn’t wave him over.

The plan you had created before arriving was to wait until after class was over to ask him if he could talk for a few minutes. You knew it wouldn’t be fair to put him on the spot before class, and you didn’t exactly feel comfortable confessing your feelings for him in front of twenty other girls who were probably drooling over him as well either.

You managed to follow through with the plan, not communicating with Jungkook at all before and throughout the class except for a few soft smiles and some attempted eye contact. The eye contact thing didn’t go over so well though, for whenever you did manage to get Jungkook to lock eyes with you, he’d immediately turn bright red and force himself to look everywhere but at you. His nervous stammering through the microphone when giving instructions was almost too cute to handle.

When the class finally did come to an end and you were a sweaty mess, you sucked in a deep breath as you watched the rest of the participants start to put away their equipment. Setting your eyes on Jungkook, you smiled slightly. “Hey, can we talk?”

Jungkook looked up from his phone, eyes wide and clearly panicked. He scanned your face carefully, almost as if he was trying to guess what your intentions were. At last, he swallowed the lump in his throat and shoved his phone into his pocket. “U-Um, sure, I guess. Let’s just wait until everyone clears out.”

Nodding in agreement, you sat back and watched as the rest of the participants put their materials back in the closet and slowly began to file out of the room. With each person that left, you could sense Jungkook getting more and more anxious. He seemed to be mindlessly checking things around the room, his eyes darting back and forth between the door and any part of you that wasn’t your eyes. By the time the last girl exited, your heart was pounding in your chest as well.

Clearing your throat, you watched as Jungkook walked to the front of the room to shut the door, seeming to take as long as humanly possible to pull it closed. Just as you were about to speak the pitch you had practiced in your head and to Jennie numerous times over the past week, he opened his mouth.

“Look, I’m not sure exactly what’s going on here and I know that I might have been a bit overbearing when I was drunk last week, but if you’re just here to make me nervous and make fun of me and my awkward self for having a crush on you, you can just leave.” He at last whipped around to face you, a sad expression taking over his features as he began to pace back and forth, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He resembled something like a wounded puppy, and the longer you stared at him, the more you noticed just how exhausted and agitated he looked.

That definitely was not what you had expected and you felt awful that he had spent over a week thinking that you were probably teasing him with your friends for what he had said to you at the bar. Furrowing your brow, you pushed yourself up to your feet and crossed your arms over your chest. The planned speech was not going to do in these circumstances. You would have to cut straight to point.

“I dropped that weight on my foot because I’ve been ridiculously attracted to you for over a year and got embarrassingly flustered at the sight of your shirt riding up during class.”

Jungkook stopped dead in his tracks, clasping both of his hands behind his head as he at last allowed himself to look at you. His eyes were wide in shock, his head tilted just slightly to the left. “Wait, what?”

“I didn’t want you to drive me home because I was already so embarrassed and was so nervous that I would’ve only embarrassed myself more trying to talk to you without making a complete fool out of myself.”

As you spoke again, Jungkook hesitantly took a couple of steps in your direction. It seemed as if though his expression was slowly softening, and what almost appeared to be a small smile was fighting to form on the corners of his lips. “I asked you to borrow a pen that one time in Earth Science with plans to work up the nerve to talk to you at the end of class when I had to give it back, but instead I just kept it and ran out of the room because I got too nervous.”

Unable to hide your own smile now, you allowed yourself to take a step toward him. The closer you got to each other, the more the tension in the room built. “I lied and said that I had an extra pen that day, but really I gave you my only one and just didn’t take notes that whole class.”

At last, that familiar bunny smile stretched across Jungkook’s whole face, his chest bubbling in laughter as he threw his head back. “I once tried to ‘accidentally’ drop a book near you at the coffee shop in hopes that you’d pick it up and talk to me, but instead I just dropped it and tripped over it.” Another step forward.

Giggling quietly, you chewed on your lower lip as you advanced forward. “My friends and I have collectively referred to you by the code name ‘hot coffee shop boy’ ever since the first time I saw you there. Also, ‘sexy gym instructor boy’ since last week.”

Jungkook’s eyes were boring into yours at this point, his body inching forward just slightly as his toes finally bumped against yours. The tension-- not just from what was happening at the moment, but also from a year of pining after each other-- was so close to bubbling over. “My friends and I know you as ‘hot coffee shop girl.’ Also, ‘toe girl’ since last week.” The warm smile on his lips had twisted into a sort of mischievous smirk.

Leaning your head forward the slightest bit, your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. “If I haven’t made it clear yet, I’m extremely into you.”

Jungkook’s eyes-- which had darkened quite a bit over the last minute-- flickered down to your lips, his own head leaning forward an inch. With this movement, the tip of his nose brushed against yours. “And if I haven’t made it obvious yet, I’m extremely into you too.”

Before you could utter another word, Jungkook closed the minimal space remaining between the two of you by crashing his plump lips into yours. His hands moved up to cup your cheeks, one moving along the back of your head to tangle into your hair. Your own hands gripped to the front of his shirt as you stumbled back a bit due to the impact, your back bumping against the mirror in the front of the room. The tension that had previously been building had popped the moment his lips met yours, but as his fingers tugged on your hair and his tongue found its way between your lips, you felt it resurfacing, this time between your legs. You felt a bit flustered getting turned on this quickly by him, but when you put it into perspective, you had been waiting for this moment to unravel for over a year. As your hands slid up the front of his shirt to rest on his defined core, you were certain you could feel his length getting hard against your thigh.

Pulling away after a minute, Jungkook rested his forehead against yours and stared deeply into your eyes as he breathed heavily. There was a playful smirk on his lips as he dropped the hand from your face and rested it on your hip. It was nice to see that he had finally let his guard down. “So, I have to ask. Are you more for sex first or a fancy date first? I’m happily offering both, but we’re both kind of coming off a bit impatient here.”

Biting your tongue to hold in your laughter, you couldn’t ignore the way that the heat in the pit of your stomach was quickly sinking down lower between your legs. “You know, if you hadn’t been so difficult to track down this past week, I may have taken you up on that fancy date first.” You ghosted your fingers over his stomach, eliciting a surprised jolt out of him. “But after you made me wait so long, I think you just might have to fuck me first.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise at your lewd words before he smirked and pressed his body against yours a bit harder, leaning forward to kiss a trail of wet kisses down your jawline. “I’m happy to be at your service, but we’re kind of out in the open here. I could drive us back to my room, that is if you’ll actually get in the car with me this time.”

Rolling your eyes at his teasing comment, you shoved at his chest. Regardless, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were feeling incredibly impatient and weren’t sure you would be able to handle the wait while he transported you across campus. Chewing on your lower lip, your eyes scanned the room. “Equipment closet. It’s spacious enough, it locks, and there’s no windows.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, eyes searching your face for any hint of a lie. When he didn’t find any, he smirked and pulled back, grabbing your hand in his. “You know, I had planned on doing a lot of things today, but fucking in an equipment closet at the ripe hour of eight in the morning certainly wasn’t one of them.”

“Get used to it, hot coffee shop boy.” Smirking to yourself, you allowed him to drag you towards the closet, pressing your back against the door after he closed and locked it behind you. “Are you complaining?”

Rapidly shaking his head, Jungkook leaned forward and peppered kisses along your neck and collarbone, only pulling back to tug your shirt and sports bra over your head. “No, no. Just concerned you’re going to be the death of me before I even get started with you.” Taking a step back, he pulled his own shirt over his head before allowing his eyes to rake up and down your body. A combination of lust and admiration filled his eyes as he stepped toward you again. “God, you really are so beautiful.”

Despite the fact that you had both been completely open with each other and the current situation being far from romantic, you felt your cheeks heating up at his compliment. Shaking your head, you poked him in the stomach. “Speak for yourself. That’s the reason why I almost broke my toe.”

Throwing back his head in laughter, Jungkook stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting your body up and placing you down on top of a few stacked crates full of equipment. “Mmm, I can make it up to you right now.”

Leaning forward, you pressed a few kisses along the corners of his lips and his jaw. “And how are you going to do that?”

“Shhh, patience.” Jungkook grinned as he bent down, slowly kissing a trail down your neck and collarbones. When he reached your breasts, he slowed down his pace, carefully taking one of your nipples between his lips and softly sucking at the skin. Once he established a rhythm that he was satisfied with, he lifted a hand and latched it around your other breast, kneading the skin between his fingers.

Letting out a soft moan, you threw your head back in pleasure and closed your eyes. Your hands fastened around his neck, gently tugging at the hair on the back of his head. The longer his lips and hands worked at your breasts, the more the heat between your legs throbbed. “How am I supposed to be patient when I’ve waited so long for this?”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his lips making a popping noise as he removed them from your breast. “You make a fair point.” Kissing down your stomach, he urged you to lift your hips as he tugged your leggings and panties down your legs and allowed them to fall into a pile on the floor. Kneeling down on the floor, his lips trailed their way up the inside of your thigh. “Mmm, so wet already and I’ve barely even touched you.”

Whimpering softly at the feeling of his lips so close to where you needed them, you bucked your hips upward in an attempt to feel any sort of friction. “P-Please.”

Chuckling quietly, Jungkook’s dark eyes remained on yours as he ghosted his lips over your dripping pussy. The shy, insecure boy that he claimed to be earlier was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was now indulging in the power he held over you. “Who made you this wet? Tell me.”

“You, J-Jungkook. You did,” you whined out, attempting to push down on the back of his head.

Jungkook flashed you a satisfied smirk, nodding his head. “That’s all I needed to hear, babe.” Without another word, he gripped his hands around your thighs roughly and lifted your legs to drape over his shoulders. Leaning forward, he closed the remaining space and attached his lips to your pussy. Rather than making you wait any longer to have the tension relieved, he immediately went to work on your throbbing clit, gently sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Once he was pleased by the moans leaving your lips and the clenching of your thighs, he pulled his lips off and replaced it with his tongue. Expertly circling his tongue on your clit, he reached one hand down and, without warning, began to pump one of his fingers in and out of your pussy.

“F-Fuck, oh my god, Jungkook,” you moaned out loudly, pulling harshly at his hair with one hand and reaching the other up to pinch at one of your nipples. “R-Right there.”

“Mmm, need to get you stretched out and ready for my cock,” he murmured against your heat, quickly inserting another finger and curving them at the perfect angle to hit your g-spot with every pulse. After circling your clit with his tongue a few more times, he encircled the bud with his lips yet again, this time humming against it to add an extra feeling of friction.

The sensation of his tongue and fingers working on your pussy and the sight of his glistening face was quickly becoming too much to handle. With every movement, the bundle of nerves in your core was getting closer and closer to snapping and sending you into that blissful state you so longed for. Biting down on your lower lip roughly, you closed your eyes tightly. “I-I’m close.”

“Open your eyes. I want you looking at me while you cum all over my tongue,” he rasped out after pulling back slightly, only leaning back down once you obeyed his command. After a moment, he wet two of his fingers on his tongue before quickly beginning to circle them on your clit, moving his tongue in and out of your cunt at the same speed.

“F-Fuck, Jungkook!” you yelled out, forcing your eyes to remain open and fixed on his as you were quickly sent over the edge and into a state of ecstasy. Your walls spasmed around his tongue as your vision became blurry and filled with stars. The feeling was only prolonged as Jungkook kept moving his tongue until you couldn’t take it anymore and reached forward to push his head back slightly, left completely breathless as you stared at him.

Getting off his knees and onto his feet, Jungkook stared down at you in awe, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. The sight of your release on his lips that he refused to wipe off had your core already begging for more. “God, that was so fucking hot. You’re so fucking beautiful.” Letting out a deep breath, he pecked your lips a couple times.

“How are you so fucking good at that?” you muttered against his lips, blindly reaching forward in search of the tie on his sweatpants. Once you found it, you tugged roughly at it, sitting up straighter to urge both his pants and boxers down his thighs.

Chuckling to himself, Jungkook assisted you and pulled the articles of clothing down the length of his legs, stepping out of them once they reached the floor. “I’d like to think that I’m a gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets…” His eyes wandered around the room for a moment. “Or in the gym equipment room, apparently.”

Rolling your eyes and giggling at his joke, you pulled him forward again to peck his lips. “You know, if you moved to the side and let me get up, I’d happily return the favor.” Your eyes wandered down the front of his body until they set on his hardened cock resting against his stomach, the sight of it causing you to clench your thighs together.

Shaking his head in response, Jungkook flashed you a shy smile. God, how could he be so sexual yet so cute at the same time? “As enticing as that sounds and as much as I would never turn that down on any other occasion, I’m afraid I’m not going to last if I don’t fuck you right now.” Stepping forward, he looked down before cursing under his breath. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me. We don’t have fuck to if you’re not comfortable.”

“Wow, you didn’t bring a condom with you to your 7am fitness class? How irresponsible of you,” you joked, shoving his shoulder before pulling him closer to you. “I’m on the pill and I’m clean, so as long as you’re clean it’s fine with me.”

“You know, you’re going to regret teasing me,” he warned, laughing softly as he nudged his nose against yours. “But yes, I’m clean too.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you raised a mocking eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah? And why am I going to regret it?”

Without another word, Jungkook reached down and grabbed his cock with one of his hands. Rather than pushing it right inside of you, he instead slowly started to rub its angry red tip up and down your folds. His eyes remained on yours, a teasing smirk tugging at the edges of his lips.

Biting on your tongue to suppress your whimpers, your eyes wandered down to the area between your thighs. “W-What are you doing?”

Pressing his lips against your jawline, he let out an amused chuckle. “Nothing until you tell me what you need. Use your words, sweetheart.”

Reaching around him, you dug your nails into the skin on his upper back. It wasn’t in your character to beg during sex, but the sight of the tip of his cock glistening in your juices from your first orgasm was enough to make you give in. “P-Please fuck me, Jungkook.” You forced yourself to lock eyes with him, hoping that the desperation you were exuding would be enough to make him cave.

Grinning in amusement against the skin of your neck, he nodded his head. “Good girl.” Sliding his cock down your folds one last time, he slowly slid it inside of your entrance once he reached it, a loud groan escaping his lips as he pushed all the way inside of you. “F-Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Moaning out in pleasure at the feeling of fullness, you whimpered as you watched the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you. The spectacle alone was enough to make the heat in your core reemerge, and your body was pleading for him to do more. “M-Move. F-Faster, please.”

Grabbing one of your legs, he extended it upward and propped it over his shoulder. After getting a good grip on it, he quickly began to thrust in and out of you. “Yeah? You like that, babe?” he breathed out, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure before he buried his face into your neck again.

Dragging your nails down his sweaty back, you were sure you were going to leave some marks behind. It only took a few moments for the feeling of overstimulation to wash away, and a new, deeper pleasure to replace it. With your leg hanging over his shoulder, his cock managed to hit you at just the right angle with every thrust. Using your grip on his back to press your body closer to his, you took the opportunity to wrap your free leg tightly around his waist. The new position made it so his cock brushed against your clit every time he pulled it out of you, the feeling nearly having your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “O-Oh my god, right there.”

Jungkook’s half-lidded eyes remained fixed on yours as he lifted one hand off of your thigh, pressing his index and middle finger together and moving them toward your mouth. “Open.” Once you complied, he inserted his fingers into your mouth. His teeth dug into his lower lip as he watched the way you closed your lips, swirling your tongue around his digits a couple of times before sliding your lips back up and releasing them with a loud ‘pop.’ There was a mesmerized look in Jungkook’s eyes as his thrusts slowed for a moment. “J-Jesus fuck, that was hot.”

A cocky smirk initially tried to spread across your lips, but it was washed away the moment he began to circle his lubricated fingers over your clit, his cock pounding in and out of your pussy at a pace that had you ready to unravel at any second. “I-I’m close.”

Letting out what sounded like a combination of a groan and a whimper, Jungkook leaned forward and brushed his lips over yours. “Cum all over my cock for me, babe.”

“J-Jungkook, f-fuck!” The sound of his raspy command and the feeling of his cock inside of you was all it took to push you over the edge again. Your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first, a sensation of rapturous bliss overtaking your senses as your toes curled and your thighs were left convulsing around his body. While your mind went foggy for a few seconds, the strain that was left in the back of your throat suggested that you had yelled out in pleasure quite loudly. The euphoria was dragged out even longer as Jungkook had yet to reach his own high, his thrusts becoming sloppier as you stared up at him with hazy vision, gasping for breath.

“I-I’m close too,” Jungkook whimpered out, eyes screwing shut as your walls continued to twitch around his cock in the aftershock of your orgasm. “W-Where do you want me to cum, babe?”

Coming back to your senses, you blinked a few times until your vision returned back to normal. Finally processing his request, you used quite a bit of your strength to push him back a bit, ignoring the confused look on his face. Using the space in front of you, you pushed yourself off of the elevated surface before getting down on your knees. “My mouth.” Reaching forward, you grasped his shaft in one hand, pumping his length a few times before leaning down and capturing his tip between your lips. After circling your tongue around it a few times, you hollowed out your cheeks and began to bob your head up and down.

“O-Oh my… F-Fuck, Y/N.” Jungkook quickly adapted to the new sensation, his hands reaching around your head to tangle into your hair and urge your head down his cock further. He locked eyes with you from above, his legs trembling around your head. Taking notice of just how close he was, you forced your mouth down further to accommodate the rest of his cock in your mouth, swallowing around his length at the bottom. The motion and the feeling of the tip of his length hitting the back of your throat was enough to make you gag, and that was all it took to push Jungkook to his climax.

Jungkook was a groaning mess above you as he released his load down your throat, unconsciously thrusting into your mouth further a couple of times to ride out of high. After a few more spurts of his hot cum filled your mouth, you worked your mouth back up his length. Once your lips popped off of the tip of his cock, you pulled back and swallowed thickly, the salty taste of his release lingering in your throat.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath, Jungkook reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you up onto your feet in front of him. Despite the crude nature of what had just occurred, the smile stretched across his lips seemed so… Innocent. “Well… That happened.” He reached up and pushed the sweaty hair that was sticking to his forehead out of his face.

Laughing softly at his words, you bit your lip and crossed your arms over your chest. “I mean, that’s certainly one way to work out at the gym.”

Jungkook’s whole body shook as he erupted into laughter, leaning down and beginning to grab all of your discarded clothing articles off of the ground. He sorted through them and handed you back yours, beginning to redress himself after. Once he was dressed, he grabbed a towel out of one of the crates and made sure the area was clean. “Don’t forget we worked out before too. That’s two whole workouts. We’re going to need to fuel up with some electrolytes or coffee or something.”

Forcing your damp leggings back onto your sweaty body wasn’t exactly the easiest or most enjoyable thing to do, but you managed. Once your shirt was back on, you looked back over at him and feigned an exaggerated amount of excitement. “Oh my god, am I going to be able to get coffee with hot coffee shop boy?”

“Only if hot coffee shop girl would be so willing to accompany him,” Jungkook jived, nudging your shoulder with his before unlocking and pulling open the door of the closet. To your relief, the room was still empty and there seemed to be no one lurking outside of it. Grabbing his backpack at the front of the room, he slung it over his shoulder. “It might be a good idea for us to shower first, though. I have a strong suspicion that we probably smell prettttty bad.”

Grabbing your own bag and water bottle, you laughed in amusement as you followed him out the door of the classroom and into the main area of the gym. “I have a feeling you’re right. Should we shower and plan to meet up after?”

Walking through the lobby, Jungkook held open the main door for you before following you outside. It was much brighter out now than when you had arrived at the facility almost two hours prior. Time really does fly by when you’re having fun. “I feel like we can’t really be trusted with the whole ‘see you around’ thing and going our separate ways just yet after the shit we both pulled avoiding each other the past couple weeks. Plus, I’m not quite done with you just yet.”

Snickering at the reminder of your past dramatic behavior, you nodded your head in agreement. “So what did you have in mind?”

Stopping in his tracks, Jungkook turned to face you. “So first, I was thinking you could come back to my place and we could both shower there. I could provide you with some clothes for the time being, but if you need to change later, I can bring you back to your place.” The corners of his lips began to twitch upward. “However, that would require you getting into my car with me, and history suggests that doing so ‘makes you nervous,’ or something like that.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure I remember something about me making you nervous too. I think some weird drunk guy told me that.” Scoffing at his flirtatious teasing, you playfully shoved his chest. “Anything else planned?”

“Hey, that ‘weird drunk guy’ is the reason we’re here today,” he scoffed, grabbing one of your hands off of his chest and lacing his fingers with yours. “Then I was thinking we could go to our favorite coffee shop. But… And I know this is kind of a wild idea... I’m thinking we sit at the same table for the first time instead of dropping pens and books to try to get each other’s attention from across the room.”

Squeezing his hand, you began to follow him as he led the way to what you assumed was going to be his car. “A bold suggestion, but I’m into it. Might have you drop a book at my feet and I’ll stare at you across the room longingly just for old time’s sake.” When you reached a shiny black SUV, Jungkook unlocked it and walked around the passenger side, opening the door for you. “So I’m guessing these plans involve us skipping classes today?”

“Well, obviously.” Jungkook flashed you a bright grin as you climbed into the car, shutting the door gently once you were in the seat. He ran around the front of it and quickly hopped into the driver’s seat, leaning over to look at you once inside. “And then once the evening comes, as I suggested earlier, I would still love to take you out to dinner, if you’d let me.” Despite everything that had just unfolded and all of the confessions you both had shared, there still appeared to be a glimmer of nervousness and hesitation in his eyes.

Leaning to the side, you reached over and placed your hand on top of his. Your lips formed into a reassuring smile. “I would love to.”

Jungkook lifted your hand that was over his to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against your fingers. “Good.” Turning to face forward, he started the car and began to back out of the space. As he looked at the pathway in front of the gym, he directed a mischievous smirk at you. “Remember that time you walked back to your room on a swollen toe to avoid getting into my car with me? Good times.”

Letting out a groan, you covered your flushed face with both of your hands. “If you don’t shut up, I’m about to hit you with a ‘see you around’ and roll right out of the side of your car while it’s moving.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorrrry,” Jungkook laughed to himself, grabbing the wrist closest to him to pull your hand off of your face. “As compensation for your shame, I will make another embarrassing confession.” He knitted his brow together as he thought for a few moments before chuckling to himself as a memory came to mind. “I once accidentally liked one of your Instagram pictures that was like… 72 weeks old and almost considered moving to another country and changing my identity. I unliked it right away and you probably didn’t even notice, but I was stressed. There. Does that make you feel better?”

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek to hide your smile, you glanced at the side of his face. “Mmm, a little bit. I think I’m going to need you to keep going.”

Jungkook scoffed as he placed your hand that he was holding down on his thigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “How is that fair? I think I deserve some form of payment if I’m going to keep exposing myself too.”

“Fine, fine.” You gently squeezed his thigh, your mind sifting through all of the embarrassing things you had done in the past due to your embarrassing infatuation of the boy who was now sitting beside you. “I tried to order you, like, a sort of secret admirer coffee on Valentine’s Day, but the barista ended up giving it to the wrong guy and I ended up leaving the shop because I was so mortified.”

“Aw, I’ve always wanted to have a secret admirer,” Jungkook teased, parking the car in front of his building. “God, we really could go on forever with these embarrassing stories, huh?”

Nodding your head, you reached your hand up and playfully poked at his dimple. “It sure seems that way. We’re kind of the worst.”

Unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of the car, he met you at the front of it and draped an arm over your shoulders. “Good. Just gives me another reason to keep you around longer.”

And while ‘see you around’ hadn’t been a promise that either of you kept before, keeping you around from then on certainly was one that he fulfilled.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook fic #college au #bts college au #jeongguk fic #ddaengtae #shamelesslyimagining

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may-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Don't Take My Sunshine

summary: love like yours was forbidden in the time period, afraid of ridicule that you both could face, you and wanda remain a secret.

warnings: mentions of old fashion punishment

word count: 2,330

masterlist

a/n: thank you for 500 followers! I've had such bad writer's block for the past couple of days but I hope you all enjoy this story.

((feel free to send in any request you may have 💕))

------

She was the sun, bright and warm whenever she wasn't around; your life felt dark and dull. You cherished moments spent with her, even if they weren't long. You knew she was constantly busy; even a second of her time was precious. When Wanda announced in a letter that she'd be around much longer this go around, you were excited when her letter read that she wanted to enjoy every wakening second with you.

Wanda showed you that she loved you in many ways; although the girl never spoke a word of it, you knew the feeling was there. It was too hard to ignore the chemistry that poured out over the two of you when you were around; it was impossible to ignore the pound and burn of your hearts when near each other. Love was a simple thing when it came to Wanda; she showed it in the way she looked at you, held you, and even sent gifts to ensure that you'd known that you were in her thoughts. Even when she was away, Wanda was determined to make sure you understood and remembered the inevitable feelings that you both had for each other.

Wanda often feared that if she had not been around long enough, your feelings would disappear during all the lonely days you'd have to spend without her, so she always went out of her way to make sure you knew how she felt. Words were never enough for her; she could never imagine the words that would seep past her lips could give her feelings justice, so she never tried. She never dared to let her feelings mutter past her lips in fear that you'd think she was being foolish.

You were the only one who truly understood her; she was only herself around you; god forbid anyone found out about her secret, she'd be burned at the stake, but you swore to keep her secret buried deep inside you till the end of time. She trusted with everything she had that you would keep that promise.

When the carriage arrived, you could feel your heart thump against your chest, all the time you spent longing for the woman, and now she had only been a few feet away. You hoped she meant every word she wrote in the letters; the purest form of hope was set upon your shoulders as you waited anxiously by your family's door. You anticipated for her to step out of that damn carriage, nibbling on your lip. You were excited to spend every moment you two had left together, hand in hand as she promised.

But, when Wanda stepped out, she was arm and arm with a man; he looked important enough, he looked expensive. The dress Wanda wore must've cost a fortune; you had never seen such luxury up close. Wanda's lips were painted red; they held a smile until she watched the way yours dropped. You felt like a fool at that moment, staring back at the young couple who stood tall. You couldn't understand the meaning behind all this, so you turned back into your family's home, leaving Wanda and your family to greet each other as you raced to your bedroom.

You were alone, drowning in your thoughts for a moment before a soft knock sounded by your door. You yelled for the person to go away, but they had not listened; instead, they pushed open the door. Your breathing was sharp when you met her gaze, your frown deepening.

"My love, what's troubling you?" she questioned, her voice sweet and gentle. There was a moment when all your anger melted away, and all you could see was her, dressed up all lovely. "what's troubling me?" you scoffed, your eyes watering and your lips quivering as you took a step towards her. "that man!" your voice raised as bitter tears leaked from your eyes.

"darling," she hummed quietly, her hands coming up to hold your cheeks. "It's not like that with him." she smiled down at you, her hands caressing your reddened cheeks, wiping away the droplets that pooled over and damped your cheeks. "He's like us," she reassured, causing the pound in your heart to subside. "oh." you breathed out; a soft giggle burst past her lips.

"I can't exactly travel alone." you knew that women couldn't take a trip without the assistance of a man; you hated that it never crossed your mind; you should've never assumed the worst. "I could never cherish another," she whispered before you could utter out anything else; the woman leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It silenced all the nagging thoughts that made your head spin; all you could feel and focus on was her.

Wanda relentlessly broke the kiss, her hands caressing your face for a moment longer before she ultimately moved away, a tender smile taking over her kiss bruised lips. "We can't stay long; the others would wonder." you stood tall on your tippy-toes, catching her lips in a shorter kiss. It was almost painful to break away from such pleasures, but you knew deep down, wanda was right. You feared the idea of your family finding the two of you; you knew you'd be ridiculed for committing such acts.

----

Your mother was determined to find you a suitable man to marry you off. No matter the number of times you fuzzed and yelled at her that you weren't ready, she never listened. She was prepared to find you anyone to pass you off to, which is why the meetings and dinners occurred. You figured with Wanda as a guest, she'd push aside the thoughts of marrying you, but the idea that wanda found herself a man only encouraged her to find you someone quicker. It'd be a shame to the family name if she were unable to find you a partner.

The man was sweet enough; he was charming even. You knew deep down that he wasn't the problem, but you felt emptiness as you looked at him. It felt like nothing, unlike the swirling fits of emotion you felt for Wanda.

"I would like to marry you." he reminded, a grin taking over his pink lips; you cringed at the thoughts of being his wife, the mother to his children. You recoiled at the idea of having to spend every night of your life sleeping next to him. "I wouldn't." you spat out, giving him a sarcastic smile before taking a sip of your piping hot tea. It burned the tip of your tongue, and as you swallowed down the flavorful liquid, it stung your throat. It brought some form of comfort, the remainder that you could still feel despite the void you felt engulfed you like the black hole.

"Why not? I could give you the life women could only dream of." you could roll your eyes, he had nothing to offer you, and no amount of fortune could ever fulfill you. "I'm in love with another," you stated bluntly, shrugging when you watched the smirk on his lips disappear in the blink of an eye. He could be a devilish shapeshifter with how quickly his emotions alternated.

"So why am I wasting my time then?" you did not have any words for him as you showed him out, grinning to yourself when you were alone. The silence was so pleasing, you could finally hear your thoughts, and they screamed so loud for Wanda. She was all you could think about; you dreamt of her every night, the concept of running off to live with her somewhere filled you with euphoria.

Your mother's nagging soon followed the silence, but you drowned her out, your mind so far away that you could hardly snap back into reality; you were happy in your head. There were no troubles in the paradise that lived within your thoughts.

------

Laughs filled the crisp wind as the two of you walked hand in hand around the field of wildflowers. Nothing could disturb the sanctuary that had been built around you and Wanda. The town was nosy; anyone could spread the news that you found love in a woman, but at that moment, you couldn't care. Wanda turned to you abruptly, her hands laced with yours. You leaned up against your favorite tree, one your great-granddad built in honor of your birth, and smiled up at the woman.

"I could die today and feel so complete knowing I have you." her words filled your ears like music, all too rich. You squeezed her hands, staring up at Wanda with adoration. "I love you." the words seeped past your lips; you had written it out to her so much before, but you never spoke of it.

"I love you a million times more." her words left her lips almost as a promise, a commitment for eternally. You reeled the woman closer until she was only a breath away, catching her lips in a passionate kiss that would undoubtedly leave you both gasping for air. Your jaw would ache, and your lungs would burn, but your heart would fill so full.

A gasp sounded, causing the both of you to break apart abruptly, your heart pounding against your chest, your eyes wide, and your breathing uneven. "Your mother told me to fetch you." the stranger stated, his gaze moving between you and wanda. "I was not expecting to see such heinous things; your folks will be hearing about this," he swore with a look of disgust; you could feel your heart in your stomach when he turned away and began storming back in the direction of your home. You called out for him, moving to chase after him to stop him in his act, but wanda caught your hand, preventing you from leaving.

"It's no use, my darling." she frowned, her hands lacing with yours. "We must try something." you cried for her to figure something out, fix this for the both of you somehow, but by the look on her face, she could not think of anything. The truth was out, and now you'd have to face the consequences of it all.

You dreaded the idea of having to walk into your home and face your family; you knew it would end so terribly. You swallowed hard; your hands shook; it was fear that washed over you; you were bound to face your certainty. You knew you would be told that your freedom to see Wanda was revoked, and they'd force you to marry a man of their choosing, or worse, the two of you would be burned for expressing your love for each other in public, none of this would end well.

The house was quiet, and for a moment, you could've been fooled into thinking the man had never returned to your home and spoke a word of your affair with Wanda. "It'll be okay, dear," she whispered into your ear, but then your father stern voice boomed through the quiet residence.

"What is this nonsense I've heard?"

"Father, I can explain." you tried, dropping the woman's hand and entering the home completely. You felt small under his gaze; you wish you could melt away into the floor and disappear from your father's glare, but you couldn't; you could only stand there in horror. "Wanda, you must leave," he uttered, you snapped your gaze over to look at wanda from over your shoulder.

"I'm not leaving without my beloved." she crossed her arms, standing tall and bold. She had not been afraid of the man; she was not frightened of anything. She'd never let anything stand in the way of her loving you.

"She's not yours to love," he growled; the woman huffed, taking steps forward to grip your wrist. "She's all mine, sir."

"If you do not leave this instant, I will notify the authorities." she scoffed.

"Call who you want; it won't change the fact that I'm in love with your daughter, and I will be until the end of time," she argued, her hand tightening with yours before she pulled you closer to almost protect you from him. "You can't,"

"I can, and I do," she stated bluntly, rolling her eyes when he turned and left the both of you, giving her one more warning to leave. You knew she wouldn't go, but you needed her to leave; she couldn't be here. She could be hurt or killed, and you'd never be able to live with yourself if something happened to Wanda.

"You must go!" you shouted, ripping your hand from hers, watching as pain washed over her expressions. "I will not,"

"He'll kill you," you yelled, causing her frown to deepen. "I'll be happy to die for your honor."

"Go, Wanda! Gather your things and go!" her eyes clouded with tears, and her plump lips quivered. Nothing could ever pain her more than leaving you behind with such troubles.

"But I love you."

"And I do you, but you must go." you reached up, your hands cupping her cheeks softly. "Go for me, my dear." The powers that Wanda tried so hard to conceal had been bubbling up inside her veins, but then you leaned up and left her with a chaste goodbye kiss, and it soothed her long enough to prevent anything from escaping.

"I'll write to you every day," you reassured, wiping away the stray tears that escaped her bright eyes. "That will never be enough."

"It has to be for now."

Watching Wanda leave stung, it felt like a part of your soul and heart had been ripped from you, and now you felt nothing but emptiness; you were alone. Wanda was the sun, and you were a flower; you could never survive without the comforting warmth and brightness that the girl provided; you were nothing without her, and every day until you could see her again, you'd feel as if you were already dead.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x you #wanda #marvel #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff angst #wanda x reader #wanda mcu #scarlet witch x you

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thejacketandthehook · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Pretending

Title: The Art of Pretending 1/?

Author: thejacketandthehook (aka everystareverywhere)

Summary: Killian Jones needs a family and needs one now. In order to impress his boss, Killian hires a single mother and her son to pretend to be his wife and son for the weekend. Nothing can go wrong, right?

Author’s Notes: Hello all! Here is my submission for the @captainswanmoviemarathon!This is based off of the Lifetime movie, "Borrowed Hearts," starring Eric McCormack and Roma Downey. The movie came out in 1997, and I consider it to be one of the first made-for-tv Christmas movies.

A couple of years ago I was watching it and thought this would be a fantastic scenario for our favorite Captain and Savior. I wrote it and then stopped, and then started it again, only to stop again. When I saw this movie marathon, I knew instantly this was the movie I wanted to do and I wanted to make sure that I finished it this time.

I hope you enjoy it!

Rating: Teen (for language mostly)

Word Count: 3534

A3O

Henry Swan looked up at the night sky and closed his eyes. If anything in his eight years of life has taught him, it was the first star you saw was the one you always made a wish on. And so he did. He closed his eyes so tightly, his little fists clutched, and his mind could only focus on one thing.

A house.

Not necessarily a home, because at eight he really didn't understand the difference between a house and a home. To him, they kind of meant the same thing. And he did have a home, with his mother, Emma, and their landlord, a fiery older woman she insisted that everyone call "Granny." But it was Thanksgiving, and he knew that he should be giving thanks for the fact that he has a roof over his head, friends and family to eat with, and food on the table - even if his mother does make him eat vegetables.

But they lived in a small apartment where you can hear every sound all the tenants make. You couldn't have the air conditioner on at the same time as the oven, and God forbid you try to take a bath without the neighbors below complaining of a leak. Henry's room was also the size of a closet, which could only contain his bed, a small dresser, and an even smaller toy box. He was getting too big for the room, honestly. The rest of the apartment was rundown, and he knew that his mother was doing the best that she could. She worked really long hours as a waitress in a local diner.

But no matter how hard she worked, it never seemed to be enough. The only thing he asked for for his birthday this year was a fairy tale book he saw at a secondhand book store. The book is amazing, but it also cost upwards of fifty dollars. He felt bad, because he knew that his mom was getting a bill after bill after bill. She tried to hid it from him, but he knew was "LAST NOTICE" meant.

(He looked it up online, honestly.)

So while he was wishing for a house, a smaller part of him was hoping his mother could get a better job or something to help get more money. They needed it.

Henry also needed a bigger room.

"Henry!" his mother called from the dining room. "Food's ready!"

Walking away from his window, Henry took a deep breath before bouncing into the room. "Smells delicious, Mom!"

"Oh, thanks kid. But Granny's the one who cooked everything," she said, gesturing to the older woman who walked in carrying the turkey.

"Hey, I made the dessert!" Granny's only grandchild, and fellow waitress at the diner that Granny owned and Emma worked at, Ruby piped up. "It's apple pie." She winked at Henry. "Your favorite."

"It's supposed to be pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving," Emma said, coming into the room wearing oven mitts as she carried a casserole dish filled with mashed potatoes.

"We have that too," Mary Margaret Nolan chimed. She was Emma's best friend, and Henry's godmother. Henry looked at her as more like a family member than a friend, along with her husband, David, who was putting ice in the cups. "David made a fresh pie this morning."

"Only the best for my nephew," he said, grinning at Henry.

The table that was only supposed to seat four sat the six of them somewhat snuggly. Henry was squished between his mother and aunt, and he smiled as he looked around. After everyone sat down, Granny insisted that they should say grace, and though Henry only went to church for Easter and Christmas (and the occasionally Sunday when Emma feels that they should go), he bowed his head too.

He might have said his only little prayer, because when you're desperate for a change, you'll pray (or wish) to anything.

"Let's eat!" Granny announced as she got up to cut the turkey. There was a lot of chatter and music playing softly in the background. Emma filled Henry's plate with turkey, mashed potatoes, and corn, and he thought that maybe the house wasn't big, but his heart certainly was.

~*~

Three weeks before Christmas. God, did he hate this time of year. Everyone was so fake, pretending to be in the Christmas spirit when really they were just looking for a way to buy their mother a gift that was way too expensive because they're not actually sure what she would want.

Killian Jones sighed as he entered his place of work and walked past the receptionists who might have said hello to him, but he wasn't sure. Because right now, he had big news. Huge, really. And he really needed to get to the thirty fourth floor to find his business partner (and perhaps closet friend) David Nolan.

Killian began working for the Woodman Corporation right out of college. He started as everyone does, an intern before just working his way up. Now he's the manager of this branch in New York, and overseas hundreds of workers. Not bad for a boy who came over to America when he was fifteen with his brother and barely any money in their pockets.

The Woodman Corporation was the company you wanted to hire when you wanted a building made. "We make dreams come true!" had always been the slogan. And though Killian wasn't exactly sure about the dreams part, they certainly did make wonderful buildings. And the owner, Marco Woodman, was just the kindest soul one could meet. Killian had the occasion to meet him once before, which was when Mr. Woodman came to visit his New York office, and Killian had just started getting paid for his work at that time. There was another branch in Boston, one in Chicago, and one in Los Angeles. Rumor was that Marco wanted to go overseas, and back to his home, London. Killian would almost kill for the position. Killian too was from London, and would love to go back. Nothing was really keeping him here in New York anyway.

Killian got on the elevator, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had to see David and tell him the news. Now. He was going to burst if he didn't tell his partner the news in the next minute.

Killian has known David for only the last number of years, but it certainly feels longer than that. While Killian had already been working here when he arrived, David had an air about them that screamed “Royalty” and walked around like he had a stick up his butt. In actuality, Killian and David hadn’t really become that close until two summers ago when they were accidently stuck in an elevator together. Though it was only forty-five minutes, the two men realized that they had quite a bit in common and after that moment became fast friends. David is the first person that Killian runs to with news, and vice versa. So it’s no wonder that not only would Killian practically run to his friend’s office, but that he knew David would share the same excitement with him.

Finally, the elevator dinged and he got off, quickly making his way to David's office. Barely greeting David's secretary, Killian burst open the door to David's office before proclaiming, "He's coming here."

David looks exactly how you picture Prince Charming from those fairy tale stories you probably heard about years ago. Tall, masculine, with blue eyes and sandy-brown hair, he was definitely the typical “boy-next-door” that every daughter wants to bring home to show their momma. Fortunately for David, and unfortunately for all the women who work at this branch, David met his soulmate when he was in high school and married her straight after college. Killian thought he was foolish to marry the one and only girl he ever truly loved, but David told him that she was “the one who he made sure would never get away.” Killian scoffed at that, and called him a blind-loving fool in his mind.

When Killian came bursting through the door, David looked up from his desk. "Who? Jesus? Has the second coming come so close to Christmas?"

"No, you ninny. Marco is coming here."

David stood up slowly, a look of astonishment and awe on his face. "Are you serious? Dude, this is huge. If he's coming here that means..."

Killian started to grin. "I know."

"Maybe the rumors are true. Maybe he is going to make a branch in London."

"Oh, how I hope they are."

"That might be why he's coming. Maybe he's here to offer you the job."

Killian crossed two fingers. "I do sure hope you're right."

David pretended to be hurt. "And you would consider leaving me and Mary Margaret in this our hour of need?"

"Our of need? Mate, she's pregnant, not dying. And she's got another three months to go. I can come back from London by then."

"Would you really go?" David asked, sitting back down behind his desk.

Killian shrugged. "Probably. I mean, Liam is back there, you know, with Elsa and my nephew. And I do love New York, but...I don't know. Maybe I should go back. Besides you, I have nothing really tying me here, you know."

"I'm touched that you would consider staying for me."

Killian smirked. "You know I love our bromance. Is that what Mary Margaret called it?"

"Yeah, apparently, that's what her students call it nowadays. A friendship between two men."

"They're ten. They don't know what's hip any more than we do."

"They're closer to understanding it."

Killian sighed as he sat down. "Isn't that true? But back to the matter at hand – Mr. Woodman coming here. Now. I wonder if Regina knows about this.”

“Probably,” David sighed as he sat back down behind his desk. “She’s the head of P.R. here, if anyone should know about Mr. Woodman’s return, it –”

“Men,” Regina Mills, said sternly as she threw open the office door. With her dark black hair and dark brown eyes, Regina was beautiful, but she was by no means a warm woman. However, she had a sort of soft spot for Killian and David, which is why they only gave a small jump when she walked into the room, and didn’t scream or nearly jump out of their chairs (which Killian would be ashamed to admit may have happened once. May have.) “Did you hear the news?”

“About Mr. Woodman?” David asked, as Regina walked further into the room and nodded. “Yeah, we did. We were just discussing why he might be coming here.”

“Well, isn’t it obvious? He wants someone to take over the London section.”

“And what, you want the job?” Killian asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Please,” she scoffed, as though the thought alone was ridiculous. Killian has known Regina long enough to know that she was being serious with her answer. “The last thing I would want is to move to London. All that rain and eating fish?” She shuttered, and Killian and David gave a small grin to each other before looking back at her. “No thank you. No, I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Woodman, and….”

Just then, David’s assistant, Ariel, popped her head into the office and said, “Mr. Jones – sorry to interrupt, but your assistant called. He said that you have Mr. Woodman on the phone.”

Killian, David, and Regina all looked at each other. Killian was so excited, he barely noticed Regina’s face pale as he replied, “Send the call through to here.” Ariel nodded before closing the door behind her.

“Killian, before you take that call—” Regina started, but Killian waved her off.

“Whatever it is, it can wait, Regina. This might the moment my life changes,” he grinned at his friend, who grinned back at him.

“Yeah, about life changing…” But before Regina could get another word in, the phone on David’s desk rang.

Killian smiled before he leaned over, picked up the phone, and pressed the button to except the call. “Mr. Woodman, sir, what a wonderful surprise.”

“Mr. Jones? How are you doing?” Marco asked in his old Italian voice.

“I’m fine, sir, just fine. And how are you?”

“Bene, fine. I needed to talk to you, Mr. Jones—”

“Please, call me Killian.”

Marco chuckled. “Killian, eh? Killian, I needed to talk to you. I would love to come to New York to visit, yes? I want to see how we are doing there.”

“Oh, you’re coming here?” Killian asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice, even though he looked at David and both pumped the air. “Oh, sir, that’s wonderful. In fact, I insist that you stay at my house, as my guest.”

“Killian, that is very kind, very kind. I would love to stay with you and your family.”

He smiled and was about to respond when Marco’s words registered. Smile fading, he shook his head as he asked, “Stay with my family—?”

Before he could ask what exactly Mr. Woodman meant by that, Regina took the phone out of Killian’s hand and said, “Mr. Woodman? Regina Mills here, how are you?” She paused as he answered. “Oh, I’m fine, just fine. Yes, Killian is fine, he just got into a coughing fit, poor thing.” She lied, looking at him and then glancing away when he mouthed, Regina, what the hell? “Oh, yes, Killian would love to have you come and meet his family, I’m sure.” She paused again before, “Yes, Mrs. Jones and their child are anxious to meet you too.” Killian’s eyes almost bugged out of their head, his mouth dropping before he looked over at David, who was just as stunned as Killian was. “Yes, I will pass along the message. Yes, Killian is fine now. We can’t wait to see you either, Mr. Woodman. Ciao.”

As soon as the phone was back in the receiver, Killian all but screamed, “Regina, what the bloody hell is he talking about?! What family does he want to meet?!”

Regina leaned on David’s desk, and though her shoulders were back and her back was straight, she kept looking down at her shoes. She muttered something under her breath.

“What was that?” David asked.

She cleared her throat. “I may have touched up your image a bit.”

Killian raised his eyebrows even higher and leaned forward. “Wait. What?”

“Well, it’s just,” she paused before continuing. “I know you’re a hard-working man, but…Marco has certain expectations, and Killian….”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you just…don’t meet them.”

“What do you mean? You just said I’m a hard-working man.”

Now she looked at him. “You are! And you completely deserve that London promotion. But Marco is a family man, and he expects his employees to also be family…people.”

“You’re not a family person,” David muttered before sinking further into his seat when Regina gave him a glare over her shoulder.

“That may be true,” she added softly as she looked down before flicking her hair over her shoulder. “But I’m not the one who needs to impress Marco for a job.”

“What are you saying, Regina, that you ‘spruced’ up my image?” Killian asked, his stomach going somewhere near the floor.

Looking him straight into the eye, she proclaimed, “That’s exactly what I did.”

Killian shook his head and began pacing behind the chairs that were facing David’s desk. “Wait, you told Marco that I have a family? What kind of family?”

She shrugged. “The normal kind. A wife and kid.”

“Regina, why would you do such a thing?” David asked. “Killian’s not a bad guy.”

“No, I know that,” she insisted. “But I mean…you may have a bit of a reputation.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Killian, don’t play stupid, it’s not a good look on you,” she snapped at him. “You know how it looks that at every Christmas party or celebration we have in the office, you either show up with a woman no one has seen before or sees again, or you come alone. And Marco is a well-established business man, who prides himself on a having a good family.”

“Didn’t he adopt?” Killian asked.

“Does it matter?” Regina replied. “He has a kid. He loved his wife until her passing. He prides himself on hiring people who are loyal and respectable, and who know that family is above all else.”

“How in hell do you know so much about this?” David asked.

“I’m the P.R. person, of course I need to know almost everything about our C.E.O.” She rolled her eyes.

“There’s just one problem with your plan, darling,” Killian said, clutching his hands on the chair and leaning forward. “I don’t have a bloody family!” Taking a deep breath, he said as calmly as he could, “You know that I only have my brother who is in London right now.”

“Yes, yes, I know that,” Regina nodded. For once in her life, Regina paused to think about what she should say next. "I might have come up with a hypothetically family for you, yes. In all honestly, I just said it so he would meet with you."

"We have met!"

"Yes, years ago. Killian, you were barely out of college when you two met. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say he doesn't even remember you."

"Well, gee, thanks," Killian replied sarcastically.

"So," David interrupted, finally. "Let me get this straight. When Mr. Woodman comes, Killian - who just invited him to stay at his house - is going to showcase his family, which he doesn't have?"

Regina nodded. "Yes, that's pretty much the story."

David looked Killian sympathetically. "You're screwed, man."

Killian gave him a look before he replied sarcastically, "Thanks mate."

"Listen, we'll fix this." Regina stated.

"How? Are you going to tell Mr. Woodman that my "family" died tragically in a car accident? Because I don't see how we can fix this?"

"We'll give you a family, dumbass!"

Killian raised an eyebrow before looking at David and commenting, "She's the one who invented a family for me, but I'm the dumbass?"

"I was trying to make you look better!" Regina argued. "I don't think Mr. Woodman- once more remind you, a family man - would want to hear stories about how you have dated every woman in New York."

"That's not true," Killian scoffed. "I haven't dated you."

"Thank Heavens for that," David commented.

"Can we focus on the problem at hand? Where the hell are we going to find a family that will suit our needs?"

David suggested, "Craigslist?"

"We call acting companies," Regina replied, already taking out her phone and, knowing her as he did, started looking up nearby acting organizations. "I'm sure for the right price, anyone will pretend to be married to you for two days."

"Hey!" Killian shouted, feeling the slightest bit insulted.

"Wait, I think..." David started to say, his eyes wide in thought. But just as quickly, he shut his eyes and quickly shook his head. "Nah. Never mind."

"What mate?"

"Well, it's just...I actually know a single mom with a young boy. And she could really use the cash."

Killian looked at David like he was an angel from up above. "Are you being serious right now?"

"Completely. She's a single mom living in an apartment that is basically the size of your living room. I think she's trying to save money for something bigger, so you would totally be helping her out."

Killian scratched the back of his neck as he looked at Regina. "What do you think?"

She shrugged. "No harm in asking. It would work perfectly in all honestly." She looked over at David. "This woman is trustworthy?"

"Emma? Oh, completely," he replied without a bit of hesitation.

"What about her son? How old is he?"

David thought about it for a moment before replying, "I believe eight, and he's got a wonderful imagination. He'll have no trouble selling the family part, I promise."

Killian still looked unsure. "I don't like this. Faking a family for a business deal?"

Regina took him by the shoulders as she whispered, "Killian Jones. This is not just a business deal. This business deal could help our company go global, if we sell to London. Who knows, Paris could be next, then Germany, you don't know! But this is the deal that you worked day and night for."

"The one that she was willing to lie for, to make you look better," David added. Regina gave him a look with a raised eyebrow.

Killian shrugged off Regina's hands as he said, "I know, I know. I just...I don't like the idea of being dishonest."

"I know it's not ideal, mate, but it's a hell of a deal."

“Do you think she would go for it,” Killian asked David. “This…Emily?”

“Emma. And…honestly…I don’t know. She’s the only person I’ve ever met who is more stubborn than you are. But I can ask.”

Killian took a deep breath before replying, “My fate lies in your hands.”

#captain swan #captain swan movie marathon #fanfiction #CSMM #CSMM2020 #cs ff

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parkerparts · 4 years ago

Text

you tell me ‘bout your past (thinking your future was me)

Mary and Peter Parker Realize What It Means to Fall in Love: It Begins and Ends with a Dance (AO3 here)

They say you can’t find love on the streets of New York City, but Mary Fitzpatrick has spent her entire life defying the odds. She meets Richard Parker on the sidewalk of a college campus neither of them attends.

Their son will attend that university. He’ll major in Dance at first, but then he’ll decide on Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering. Then he will fall in love again, or maybe it will be for the first time. He will end up majoring in both, and it might take him five years, but he’ll be proud. They’ll all be so proud of him.

Summer is hot in New York City. Richard still wears a leather jacket. Mary still wears closed-toed shoes.

“You’re that dancer,” he says. “My brother loves the ballet. Mary Fitzpatrick, right?”

“Just Mary,” she replies. “Fitzpatrick isn’t much of a stage name.” “Mary Parker has a nice ring to it.”

Mary thinks for a moment. It’s a moment neither of them should share on a busy New York City street, but they share it anyway. “You know what? You’re kind of right.”

Richard flashes her a smile, and it’s the type of smile you fall in love with. “I’m always right.”

They’ll find out later that he’s wrong. He’s a good man, and he tries to be right, but it will still be a lie when he tells his baby boy years later that he’ll be there for him when he first steps foot in a dance studio or first slides around on a baby skateboard. It’s an entirely human flaw, that sort of hope.

Mary goes to her studio two weeks later and tells them she’s changing her name. She starts her second season as principal dancer with the name Mary Parker, and it’s a name that doesn’t really belong to her -- not quite yet -- but she makes it hers anyway.

They let Richard, Ben, and May Parker backstage after the show because they tell security they’re family.

“Your last name is Parker?” she exclaims when she meets them. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“You don’t really think I pulled the name ‘Parker’ for you out of my ass, did you? I was flirting.”

Ben steps forward and holds out a bouquet of orange roses. “I’m sorry my brother’s an idiot. You did good out there, Parker.”

Mary takes the flowers. “You’re the brother who likes ballet? I’m glad to share the name Parker with a man of some sense.”

“Hey!” Richard cries out, and Mary lets out a laugh. She thinks she has an ugly laugh. It’s the same laugh she gives to her baby boy, but it’s beautiful on him.

“You’ll keep the name, then?” May asks over the lighthearted bickering that broke out between the brothers. “It’ll be good to have another one of us to balance out all the trouble these two get into.”

“I’ll keep the name,” Mary replies, “but you might find that I’m just as much of a troublemaker myself.”

May grins. “Good. You’ll fit right in.”

They say you can’t find love on the streets of New York City, they’re right. As much as Spider-Man frequents those very streets, Peter Parker finds love on a rooftop just outside the city. He meets Harley Keener on the rooftop of the Compound on the first night he spends there.

“You’re that dancer,” he says. “Spider-Man, right?”

“Just Peter,” he replies. “And yeah, I’m Spider-Man. Guess nothing really stays a secret around here.”

Harley smiles, and it’s the kind of smile you fall in love with. Like mother, like son. Peter and Mary Parker have always been suckers for a beautiful smile. “There’s plenty of secrets to go around. Nah, Tony just can’t keep his mouth shut about you. Besides, he has everyone’s measurements on file, and Peter Parker and Spider-Man had very similar -- exactly the same, actually -- leg to body ratios.”

“Could just be a weird coincidence.”

“I live in a building with most of America’s Mightiest Heroes. I’ll take my chances that the things that catch my eye aren’t just weird coincidences.”

Peter smiles because, weirdly, Harley reminds him of Aunt May in that moment. Two normal people in an abnormal world, doing their absolute best and succeeding. “You’re smart. I see why Mr. Stark likes you.”

Harley barks a laugh that echoes in the relative quiet of the lands around them. “I’ve been pissing Tony off since I was twelve. He tolerates me, maybe.”

“You know him, better than I do, probably. You know that’s not true.”

Harley is still for a moment, and Peter starts to worry he overstepped. Then he sighs and sinks down until his back is against the rooftop, still warm from the just-set sun. “Yeah,” he says to the emerging stars. “I know.”

When Mary first invites Richard over to her apartment, he spends a solid minute laughing when he sees her set-up. She’s twenty-two and she lives alone. Her living room consists of two beanbags, two panels of marley, and a barre. “Don’t you get priority time at your studio as a principal of whatever?”

“I’m twenty-two and insecure,” she tells him. “Besides, everyone starts somewhere.”

She feels vindicated by the sheepish look on his face.

They eat corn dogs on the fire escape, and Mary makes fun of Richard for liking mustard. The sounds of the city unfurl around them as they talk. Mary says she never thought she’d be a star. Richard says he never thought he’d make it past twenty-one. Mary says she doesn’t quite believe it sometimes. Richard says he doesn’t either.

Mary opens a bottle of wine. She says, “My father always liked this kind.”

Richard says, “My grandmother did too.”

At midnight, Mary says, “My father was a secret agent. My mother was in the business too, but she didn’t do field work. She got injured anyway. She didn’t want me to follow in her footsteps or my father’s. She wanted me to be a god.”

Richard asks her, “Aren’t you?”

Mary takes a sip directly from the bottle of wine. “No,” she says eventually. “I’m just Mary Parker.”

“Formally Fitzgerald.”

Mary pauses with the bottle half-raised to her lips. She lets a smile slip onto her face. “Perhaps,” she tells him. “But no one needs to know about that.”

Natasha takes Peter to Varna one winter to see the International Ballet Competition, and Tony and Harley tag along. She spends the Quinjet ride trying to teach Peter a little bit of Bulgarian. Tony and Harley don’t help.

“Teach him some swear words,” Harley says, not even looking up from where he and Tony are huddled over the computer system.

“Don’t teach him the swear words,” Tony says, in a similar fashion. “Harley swears at me enough in English. I don’t need another one coming at me in a language I can’t understand.”

Peter pipes up, “I’d never swear at you, Mr. Stark.”

“Момчета,” Natasha says, snapping a finger in Peter’s face. “Focus.”

Peter gets a decent foundation in Bulgarian by the time they land, and as a treat, Natasha teaches Peter чекиджия. “It means wanker,” she tells him.

Peter keeps his promise. He doesn’t swear at Tony, but he swears at Harley when he pushes him into the hotel pool. Tony glares at Natasha, and she just winks at him from above the rim of her glass of pina colada.

Later that night, Peter finds himself on the balcony of his room, murmuring Bulgarian phrases to himself in an attempt to remember what Natasha taught him. She’ll quiz him on his Bulgarian in the morning.She’s tough on him like that, and she’s a great teacher because of it.

“So Natasha did teach you some swear words.” Peter looks up, and there’s Harley on the balcony of the room next to his, looking at him with a grin.

“Just one,” Peter admits. “I called you a wanker earlier.”

Harley lets out a laugh. “I deserved it.”

“You did.”

They’re silent for another minute or two.

Eventually, Harley says in a voice barely above a whisper, “Abbie used to come up with the most ridiculous names to call me when I annoyed her. Her favorite was boxhead.”

“You miss her,” Peter points out.

“More than anything.”

Peter climbs up on the hotel’s wall and skittles over to Harley’s balcony, dropping next to the boy silently. “It’s okay to miss her. It’s okay to be sad.”

“She wants to be a journalist,” Harley says. “She’s going to graduate high school and go to journalism school and make our mama proud.”

“You don’t think you’ve made your mom proud?”

“Do you?”

Peter loses his breath for a moment. In the darkness, he feels Harley lean into him slightly, like an apology. He lets out a breath. “Touche. I’ll drink to that.”

“There’s whiskey and vodka in the mini fridge. Think Tony will notice if we drink any?”

“He will. I accidentally bought porn on the hotel TV in Germany, and Happy found out.”

Harley chokes on a laugh, and Peter’s kind of proud of that. “Diet Coke and Sprite it is, then.”

They bring their drinks out to the balcony again because nights like these are always too beautiful to miss. Peter asks, “What are we drinking to?”

“To making no one but ourselves proud.”

Peter smiles and drinks to that. Their conversation lightens up, and they gossip like grandmothers going out to tea. It’s easier to talk about other people than to talk about themselves. Peter’s head slips onto Harley’s shoulder as he tells Peter a story, and within a minute, he’s asleep.

Harley doesn’t move. They fall asleep like that, on a balcony in Bulgaria on a beautiful night.

Mary’s Tuesday nights are reserved for the weekly Parker women meeting (which will one day be called the Parker wives meeting). After dinner, they meet at a coffee shop near May and Ben’s apartment and talk over countless cups of tea until closing.

“So you and Richard,” May begins one night. “How’s it going.”

Mary takes a sip of her tea and a shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m twenty-two, and I know absolutely nothing about love. I started thinking about it the other day, and I sort of panicked? I’ve already named myself Mary Parker. Does that mean I have to be a Parker forever? Do I have to date Richard forever or, god forbid, marry him?” May takes Mary’s hand. “Would it be so awful?”

Mary waits a very long time before answering. Yes, she thinks at first. She spent her whole life making it alone in this world, and she was fully prepared to do it forever. Now, she’s twenty-two, and she’s basically married to this man and his family. She doesn’t even know if she loves him. She doesn’t really know what love is.

But she knows that it’s easy to be around him, almost as easy as it is to breathe. Maybe as easy as it is to dance. It’s like everything dark and nervous in her shuts down, and she just gets to let herself be.

“No,” she says eventually. “I don’t think I’d mind at all.”

“That’s love,” May says with a smile. “Or, at least, it’s the closest thing any of us are ever going to get to it.”

Mary bites her lip. “Isn’t that, I don’t know, sort of settling for second best?”

May shakes her head. “True love is for the fairytales. Us girls, girls grown up too fast, we know a little better than to believe in love like that.”

As much as Mary adores May, she disagrees. Her name is Mary, Mary Parker, and she has always defied the odds.

The next day, Richard proposes to her at his skate park that she visits on Wednesdays for lunch with him. Mary says yes. She cries. She falls in love.

Maybe what she has with Richard’s not true love, but true love is the feeling in her heart when she sees her baby boy for the very first time. She names him Terry, and he dies before the week is over.

May picks Peter up from the Compound after two weeks spent in Varna. She pulls him in for a hug and kisses his forehead, and Peter catches Harley’s eye from over her shoulder. He looks sad. Peter’s seen a glimpse of the depth of loneliness beneath that gaze.

Peter buries his head in May’s shoulder and breathes her in.

Happy drives May and Peter home, and both adults listen as Peter babbles on about the beautiful performances at Varna. May knows more about dance than Happy, so she chimes in every now and then, but they both just let Peter talk until he tires himself out. He falls asleep with his head in May’s lap.

Happy carries Peter into the apartment when they arrive, and Peter wakes up just enough to wrap his arms around Happy’s neck and hold tight. He wonders what he did to deserve being treated like a child. He wants to stay like this forever.

Happy lays Peter down on his bed, and Peter lets go.

Peter wakes up hours later, just as the sun is setting. May makes a box of easy mac, and asks, “So what’s up?”

Peter dodges the question for ten minutes, and then he says, “I spent a lot of time with Harley and swore at him in Bulgarian.”

May ignores that second part. “So you and Harley?”

“Me and Harley nothing, May. We’re friends, or something like that. I don’t know. I think we’re kind of close, and it’s kind of nice. Harley gets me, like really gets me, and he’s not afraid of anything.”

“Do you love him?”

Peter smiles sadly. “I’m seventeen,” he says. “What do I know about love?”

May reaches across the table and takes his hand. “Your mother once said the same thing.”

Peter blinks back a sudden tear. “About my dad?”

“About your dad. And you know what? He was planning to propose to her the next day.”

“So what happened?”

“She said yes.” May runs her thumb against the back of Peter’s hand. “Don’t go getting married any time soon, baby, but don’t be afraid of letting yourself fall in love.”

Richard runs away when Terry dies. Mary goes back to dancing. Despite the months that she took off, her body still remembers. Her body, her body.

It’s a body that betrayed her.

Richard comes back, eventually. He comes to see her first performance since childbirth. He lets her take him home.

“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his head in her body. Mary holds him close.

“We do what we can to cope.” He lifts his head up and wipes away his tears. He wipes away her tears. He lifts her left hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the ring that she never took off.

They get married in the winter, even though Mary had always wanted a summer wedding. People change. Mary falls in love with a wedding gown that has sleeves.

There’s no one by her side as she walks down the aisle. She gives herself away.

May makes a toast and then Ben does. Mary cries a lot. “To the Parkers,” one of the guests yells when the speeches are over. Everyone drinks to that.

The four of them in the wedding party share smiles. Mary was a Parker long before the wedding took place.

Nine months later, Peter Benjamin Parker is born. “We’ll name the next one after you, May,” Mary promises.

May smiles as she rocks the little boy in her arms. “You don’t need to,” she says. “This one right here is the only baby I’ll ever need.”

Months later, Mary will fall asleep on the couch with the baby on her chest, and her husband will carry her to bed. She’ll wake up to an empty bed and the sound of a baby crying. Richard will sing the little boy to sleep, and Mary will watch silently from the doorway wondering what she did to get this lucky in life.

When Harley bursts into the lab at midnight one night, it’s just Peter in there. Bruce had bullied Tony into bed about an hour ago but had given up on Peter. “What’s wrong?”

Harley takes two heaving breaths. “It’s my dad,” he manages to say. “He’s back.”

Peter can’t go with Harley to Rose Hill because they’re gearing up for a performance at the studio. Tony wants to go, but Pepper intervenes, and she brings Natasha along with her.

“It’s for the best,” Tony says, still in his pajamas and even more tired than before, after helping Pepper pack. “Pepper’s good at dealing with people, and Scary Red is, well, she’s good back-up. She’s always worked well with Pepper too. Did I ever tell you about Pepper having the Black Widow as her PA?”

“You did,” Peter says. They watch the Quinjet take off.

“It’s for the best,” Tony repeats, almost as if to himself. “I think I’d just have made the situation much worse.”

Peter sees through the act in an instant. It’s flimsy; he wonders if Tony has let his guard down, or if he’s too tired to pretend. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You sound like Pepper. Or Bruce. He’s even worse. Very zen, despite, you know, the whole green rage monster thing.” Tony sighs and turns around, slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Anyway, I get to spend time with the Spider-Baby, now that Harley’s not hogging you. Midnight snack?”

Peter starts to protest the whole Harley thing. He thinks better of it. Instead, he says, “I want juice pops.”

“You just read my mind, kid.”

They eat juice pops and watch the sunrise. Steve and Sam pass by the window on their early morning run. Tony says, “Cap is going to propose to Metal Man.”

Peter smiles. Tony and Harley are such gossips. “I know. Harley told me.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, and Peter braces himself for his next words. “So you and Tinkerbell, huh?”

“It’s not like that. It’s just-- It’s nice to have a friend.”

“Do you want it to be more?”

“Dunno,” Peter murmurs. “I’m scared of wanting things.”

Tony sighs, and Peter knows he understands. “It gets better, kiddo. That fear. I don’t think it ever really goes away, but you learn to ignore it. You learn that some things, some people, are just stronger and bigger and braver than fear itself.”

Peter smiles sadly. “Is it time for coffee yet?”

“No,” Tony says, snapping immediately into what Harley and Peter like to call his dad-voice. “It’s time for bed.”

“Since when did you become so responsible?”

“I’m old, kid. You and Harley and this whole damn team aged me prematurely.”

Peter is the most beautiful baby the world has ever seen. Mary whispers this into the top of his head as they sway around the living room. Richard’s going through a jazz phase; one of his CDs is playing softly. Mary wonders if Peter will ever know how loved he really is.

Spoiler Alert: he doesn’t. That kind of love is infinite, and it grows with every person he touches. But as Peter grows older, he begins to understand.

The door of the new Parker apartment opens quietly, and Mary smiles, turning away from the window to greet her husband with a kiss. “Hush,” she says, before he can even begin to speak. “Peter’s sleeping.”

Richard nods and presses a kiss to Peter’s head. The baby doesn’t stir. Distantly, Mary hears the shower turn on. She continues swaying to her husband’s jazz and staring out the window at the city she calls home.

Her son will call it home. Her son will dedicate his life to protecting that very city.

Richard joins her in by the window after a moment. He takes the baby from her arms and sways to the music. Mary sits on the couch. It’s been a very long day, and she should go to bed, but she wants to stay in this moment just a little longer.

Eventually, Richard goes to the CD player, and Mary thinks he’s going to turn the music off. She stands up, ready to go to bed, but the music just changes. Richard shifts Peter to one arm and pulls Mary in with the other. They sway together like that to the sound of Ella Fitzgerald’s voice, their baby in between them. Mary lets out a sigh. She lets her forehead rest against Richard’s.

Like always, when her thoughts drift away, they drift to her baby’s future.

Peter will grow up, and every day, he will look more and more like Richard. He will take after his mom, though. He’ll learn how to dance. He will defy all odds. He will fall in love without even knowing what love is.

He will make mistakes. He will live and lose. He’ll forget what it’s like to be loved.

But he will remember. He always does. He is, after all, a Parker.

Pepper, Natasha, and Harley come home after half a week. Peter skips rehearsal and patrol and convinces Happy to drive him to the Compound to meet them. Harley steps off the Quinjet, takes one look at Peter, and falls into his open arms.

“He wanted to take Abbie,” Harley tells him while everyone else crowds into the kitchen to fight over whose turn it is to make dinner. “Mama wouldn’t let him.”

“So what then?”

“He left. Pepper bribed him with a little money and threatened him with a restraining order, so he took the money and left. For good, this time, he says, but I won’t be surprised if he turns up again in the next five years. Pepper says she won’t offer money next time around, just the restraining order.”

“She’s a good person,” Peter says with a smile.

“The best.”

Harley’s phone starts ringing then, so he leaves the room to take it. Peter wanders into the kitchen and watches the commotion of his family until Tony pulls him into a debate with Happy, Steve, and Bucky about motorcycles.

Peter politely reminds Tony that he knows absolutely nothing about motorcycles.

When Harley returns, dinner is ready, so they crowd around the table and pass around massive plates. After dinner, Harley calls Tony, Pepper, Natasha, Happy, Rhodey, and Peter and asks to talk with them.

“There’s a harvest festival in Rose Hill in about a month,” he says. “Mama and Abbie want you all to come.”

A month later, all of them plus May pile into a Quinjet, and they take off for Rose Hill. Harley sits next to Peter and spends the entire ride telling him about his mom and his sister while Peter nods along nervously.

He’s very oddly nervous. All of the adults shoot one of the two a knowing look before the Quinjet has landed.

“Relax,” May whispers to him as they step off the ramp. “Just be yourself. That’s the best way to make a first impression.”

Natasha whispers in his other ear, “Besides, there’s no harm done if Mrs. Keener doesn’t like you. She’ll just hit you over the head with a frying pan or a wrench.”

Peter sometimes wishes his life wasn’t so chock-full of the most intimidating women in the world.

He makes a wonderful first impression, and he thinks to himself that it’s probably because he’s had a lot of practice being around intimidating women.

Later that night, the ten of them claim a campfire at the festival and roast s’mores. Someone offers them slices of leftover apple pie from the baking contest. Peter stuffs his face with peach cobbler.

Up on the platform, the band begins to play some jaunty tune that the whole town knows. Harley sweeps his mother up and they’re some of the first out on the dance floor, a fact which makes Peter’s jaw drop.

Abbie laughs at his expression and goes to find her friends, all of whom run out onto the dance floor and form a circle. Peter thinks violently of school dances. He doesn’t think about homecoming.

Happy gets May on the dance floor, which makes Pepper turn to Tony. “Dance with the kid,” he tells her. “I’m old.”

Peter turns to Pepper, and she takes his hand. “Thank goodness,” Pepper whispers to him with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. “You’re a much better dance partner than Tony.”

Peter laughs and spends the song proving her right. He catches Tony’s eye at one point, and he looks so very proud.

Somehow, at the next song, Peter ends up with Abbie’s hand in his and a challenge dancing in her eyes. Harley winks at him from where he’s dancing with Pepper. “Alright, dancer boy,” Abbie says. “Show me what you got.”

He dips her at the next available chance with absolutely no warning, and she takes it like a champ. “I like you,” Peter tells her.

Abbie lets out a laugh that sounds almost exactly like Harley’s.

Harley comes up to Peter at the end of the song with a smile that’s lighter and wider than Peter has seen in a long time. This is where he belongs, Peter realizes. On a dance floor surrounded by the people he has loved for forever.

Harley taps his shoulder with his. “Could I get a dance with my sister?”

“Sure,” Peter says, and before he can lose his courage, he continues, “if I get one with you right after.”

Harley doesn’t even hesitate. “Deal.”

As Harley whisks Abbie away, Peter goes back to the campfire and shoves a marshmallow in his mouth before May can stop him. “A dance with my favorite aunt, by any chance?”

May rolls her eyes. “Sure thing, my favorite nephew.”

“I have a dance with Harley next,” he tells her. “What do I do?”

May smiles with all the laughter in her soul reflected in her eyes. “Peter, you do what you do best. You dance.”

So Peter does just that.

The band picks it up for the next song, and Peter takes Harley’s hand. They share a grin. They jump and swing their way across and around the entire fun, laughing all the way. Harley’s cheeks are flushed, and his hair is a mess from all their jumping around. Peter realizes he will never see a sight more beautiful than this.

It’s easy, Peter realizes, to fall in love. It happens just like that. He dances with Harley for the rest of the night.

#harley keener #peter parker #spider-man #parkner #mary parker #richard parker #tony stark #marvel #ballet #bella writes

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rather-impertinent · 5 years ago

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I’m sorry for the book spam guys but I just HAD to post these two excerpts from The Miller’s Dance. I had to. Why didn’t Debbie give us more of this content? Ross caring so deeply about Demelza? Worrying about her? Ross and Dwight worrying about her? What happened to all of this loving warmth in the show after S2??? I actually fucking despair. Anyway, enjoy xo

The same evening while the two older children were still away and Isabella-Rose had retired conversationally to bed, Demelza told Ross that she was with child again.

Ross put his pipe carefully down on the mantelshelf. ‘Good God!’

Demelza said: ‘Yes, indeed.’

‘Almighty God, I never supposed . . .’

‘I don’t think we can blame Him.’

Ross got up, looked at the accounts book he had been about to tackle on his desk. Priorities, perspectives had suddenly changed.

‘When?’

‘Oh . . . maybe November. Before Christmas anyhow.’

‘Have you been feeling unwell for some time?’

‘A couple of weeks. It is passing now. I shall feel brave now. I always do.’

He stared at her – this dark-eyed, witty, warmly perceptive, earthy woman who had been his loving companion for twenty-five years, a woman who, at rising forty-two, still attracted straying glances from men whenever she went into company.

‘I didn’t expect this!’

‘The old women say it’s a good thing – to have another baby at my age.’

‘Your age! You’re a mere child yet.’

‘Yes, grandpa. I . . . hope the others won’t mind.’

‘What others?’

‘Jeremy and Clowance, of course. They may think it a little inopportune. Is that the right word?’

‘I’ll knock their heads together if they show the least sign of thinking that. But . . . how will it affect your megrim?’

‘May stop it. Should not anyway do it any harm. Ross, having babies is natural in a woman. It does not have any permanent effect – on their health or on their ordinary ailments.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ he said, thinking of all the women he had known who had died in childbirth. ‘Have you told Dwight?’

‘I haven’t seen him. You are the first one to hear – of course.’

He took up his pipe and began to fill it. It was not done very expertly tonight. Every time this happened with Demelza it got worse. Each time he found he had more to lose. He had hoped it would never occur again.

‘I’m very selfish,’ he said. ‘I think only of you.’

‘That doesn’t sound selfish.’

‘Well it is. Because the older I get, the older we both get, the more I depend on you.’

‘I know that, Ross. At least, I feel it so also. It operates both ways. But in what respect will this alter it?’

He hesitated. ‘Not at all if it is as the others have been.’

‘Well, then. That is how it shall be.’

He held his tongue, not wanting to damp her with his own fears.

Presently she said: ‘I wonder what we shall call him.’

‘Him?’

‘Shouldn’t that be? On average. We’ve had three girls and only one boy.’

‘As God is my judge,’ Ross said, ‘I’ll be well past seventy before the child is of age!’

‘Never mind. You are not so yet. I am – delighted.’

He looked into her eyes. ‘Really?’

‘Yes! Oh yes! It – puts the clock back. One is – young again!’

‘How strange,’ he said. ‘I have never thought of you as anything but young.’

‘We’ll call him,’ she said, ‘Vennor. Or Drake. Or Francis.’

‘Why not Garrick?’ Ross suggested, and dodged the cushion she threw at him.

But he was not amused. There was no laughter in him at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning after she (Clowance) left Demelza fainted in the kitchen and was carried upstairs by John and Jane Gimlett, who were the only people in the house. Dwight was summoned and arrived at the same time as Ross, who had been over at Wheal Grace. Dwight made a thorough examination and came swiftly down.

‘She seems quite restored now and is asking for you. The baby is alive and – kicking. There has been no haemorrhage or discharge of waters. I don’t believe the child is quite due yet. It seems simply a passing faintness, a fainting fit. Fortunately she fell lightly and only bruised her arm.’

‘But what is amiss with her, Dwight? What has gone wrong?’

Dwight hesitated. ‘If medical science were further advanced perhaps I could tell you. There is a toxic condition in the blood which I believe is at the root of all these disquieting symptoms. But the cause of the toxicity and the cure for it are quite unknown to me.’ He looked at Ross, who was scowling and tapping his boot. ‘I think you have to remember that until now Demelza has been the perfect mother. All the children have been born very easily, very quickly, and after the first month or so of pregnancy she has been in the finest health all through. Often she has joked with me and said that it is because she comes of peasant stock. This time – well, generally the more children women have the easier they produce them – except that as they themselves grow older it weighs a little more heavily upon their own constitution. It may be the case here – just that, no more. She is ten years older, and therefore there is just that little more strain on her. God forbid that I should be complacent; but neither should one allow this to become magnified out of its true proportion. Just now, when I left her, she was joking with me as if she had not a care in the world. And wanting to get up.’

‘Wanting to get up!’

‘All the same, I do not think you should discourage her from all exercise, so that it be light. A little walking. She certainly intends to get up to supper.’

‘Do you know what I think of?’ Ross said.

‘No?’

‘Elizabeth.’

Dwight let out a breath. ‘Forget it. Forget Elizabeth. That was quite different.’

‘How different?’

‘It – was. She died . . . well, you know how she died.’

‘I can never forget it. Not as long as I live. So . . .’

‘Yes, but there can never be any similarity between the two conditions.’

‘Why not?’

They stared at each other.

Dwight said: ‘Take my word for it, Ross.’

‘But I want to know why.’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Because you don’t know or because what you know may not be repeated?’

Dwight lowered his eyes. ‘Look, old friend; forget Elizabeth and accept my assurance that there can be no similarity. What do you wish me to do here? Call in Dr Behenna for a second opinion?’

‘God forbid that too!’

‘Or there is a new man in Redruth who has taken Dr Pryce’s place. They say he worked in one of the Plymouth lying-in hospitals and has a good reputation.’

Ross made a dismissive gesture. ‘There is no one in Cornwall and few in England who know more about these things than you do. Do you suppose I’d rather trust her to some self-opinionated surgeon who subordinates all his clinical observations to a pet theory? Who would put her on some outlandish diet of raw meat and snail water . . .’

‘These would not be such ill ideas,’ said Dwight. ‘She needs iron.’

Two days later when Dwight called Demelza was out. He strolled about the house for a few minutes, and then met Ross who had been busy in the library.

‘How is she this morning?’ Dwight asked.

‘Should I not be asking you that?’

‘You should if I could find her.’

‘Well, where in Heaven—’

‘Apparently she told Jane that she would be taking a short walk.’

‘With Jane?’

‘No, no, on her own, I think.’

‘Damn the woman! She ought to know better.’

‘How was she yesterday after I left?’

‘Oh, better than Wednesday. Better spirits. And this morning when she woke.’

‘A little walking will do no harm, provided she feels up to it.’

‘Jeremy!’ Ross called to his son, who was just about to go on the beach with Farquahar at his heels.

Jeremy came back. ‘Hullo, Uncle Dwight. I have a couple of books I must return to you.’

‘Dwight has come to see your mother,’ Ross said, ‘and no one knows where she is.’

‘I think she was going over to see Jud and Prudie.’

‘Oh, God in Heaven!’ Ross exploded. ‘Has she no sense? Did you not try to dissuade her?’

‘Yes, I did. I said “that bug-ridden place”. But you know what Mama is when she takes an idea into her head.’

‘It is much too far,’ said Ross. ‘Is it not too far, Dwight?’

‘Yes,’ said Dwight. ‘Of course had I come direct from home I would have seen her.’

‘Would you like me to go after her?’ Jeremy said. ‘I was off to the mine but that can wait.’

‘Thank you. I think it would be – very acceptable to me. Bring her back.’

Jeremy wrinkled one eyebrow. ‘Only you could be certain to do that, Father. But I’ll use my wiliest persuasions.’

Ross watched him run off whistling up the valley, the spaniel gambolling close behind. He said to Dwight: ‘He’ll do it more tactfully than I could. She gets strangely irritable with me at this time. It has always been a matter of pride between us that we do not get irritable with each other. Her – her personality seems to be changing.’

‘That will pass,’ said Dwight. ‘That at least I can promise you.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeremy laughed again, but more grimly this time. ‘Believe me, Mama, it is not that sort of war we discuss. And anyway the greatest part of it all is hot air.’

‘I hope so.’ They began to walk down the valley. Demelza swayed.

‘Mama, are you ill?’

‘No!’ she said, ‘of course I’m not ill. But I believe this baby must be a little lop-sided within me and weighs me over from time to time. Small wonder with such a family possing around him.’

‘I shall be jealous if it’s another boy,’ Jeremy said. ‘He’ll want those wooden toys I have. Those that I would not let Clowance and Bella get their grubby hands on.’

‘I see Dwight now,’ said Demelza, ‘and your father. How anxious they are looking! Do they not look like two mother hens, Jeremy? Do they not now?’

She was sweating slightly, aware that the fever had come back.

#poldark #poldark spoilers #winston graham #romelza #dwight enys

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ultsoobins · 6 years ago

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Lovely - CYJ

part one of my “playlist of the apocalypse” series

requested:

notes:

(please don’t let this flop) this is just part 1! yes it’s kind of angsty but it won’t always be. mentions of murder, drinking. definitely swearing involved. reader and yeonjun live and lose in a post governmental overthrow, i think this is about 2.4k words, it’s basically an introduction!

summary:

yeonjun finds hope and despair in equal portions in an abandoned ticketing booth

track 1 : lovely - billie eilish, khalid

it’s been years since The Rebuilding began, and yeonjun hasn’t had a moment of reprieve since.

every breath he takes is through lungs charred with smoke, by circumstance or by choice, it’s no matter to him anymore. every step he takes is one step closer to or one step farther from his damnation, and the fact that he doesn’t know soothes him in a way that isn’t tangible to anyone else. scars litter the backs of his hands, knuckles bruised from punching walls and punching people alike.

when he sleeps he remembers the agonized screams of his family. he sees with more clarity than he had even in the moment the mangled messes his parents’ bodies had been once the Officials had been done with them, feels with the shock of a thousand lightning bolts the triumphant, repulsive smirk one of the murderers had given while staring down at the bodies before leaving, with yeonjun’s front door torn off its hinges and his heart torn out of his chest.

yeonjun tries his best not to sleep.

he can’t remember a life before the government fell from the inside to officials who wanted complete power. yeonjun’s thankful for his ability to compartmentalize so, so well that he can blank on memories completely - just recalling how light he had felt before the takeover is enough to send him spiralling. God forbid if he began missing those murdered.

his life had been a far cry from the anger, the pain he only registers now.

happiness has become a wronged lover, one that doesn’t want him no matter how much he chases after her.

yeonjun drops the bottle of soju, hears it shatter against the grimy ground. he licks whatever is left off of his bottom lip, savoring the first sip of alcohol he’s had in weeks. the bottle had barely been a quarter full when he’d found it, and the trail of stale blood that had started at it, ending somewhere beyond the wall that separated the dumpster and the building that once was a school, told him that the previous drinker could be found maimed - likely dead - if he took twelve steps behind him.

he’s seen enough dead people in this lifetime. he’s killed enough in this lifetime. he doesn’t bother finding the body - he’d looted one earlier for money, worthless as it is, a barely filled water bottle, and a razor, anyways. instead he mentally thanks them for never finishing their soju and pushes off of the wall, taking note of the darkening sky.

it’s time for him to find a place to stay for the night. Officials prowl the streets like anything once everything is completely dark, and God forbid if one finds him.

as he walks in the shadows, slower than he ever would in the daylight, yeonjun can’t help but wonder why he keeps living, keeps fighting. there’s no reason to live on - his family is gone. his friends are likely gone. with the New Government’s Rebuilding agenda, he knows that they’ll stop at nothing to kill everyone until only those truly, truly loyal to their Cause remain - it’s all part of their plan to rebuild the nation with only families that support the Cause. considering that the only people who would be left - who, by the New Government, are the only ones supposed to be left - are truly just Officials and their families, it’s only a matter of time before yeonjun becomes a statistic - just another rebelling non-supporter.

so why does he fight so hard against the inevitable?

revenge, he supposes as he rounds another corner. for all the lives he’s seen taken from him. he pushes that thread of thoughts out of his mind, leaving it for tomorrow as he always does, knowing that he’ll reach the same conclusion as he always has.

he reaches what used to be a train station and pulls his hood over his head to conceal more of himself. the world, as always, is silent - it’s been months since yeonjun’s heard, let alone seen, another non-Official.

months since he’s seen someone whose throat he hasn’t had to slit.

he prefers it that way - seeing another unloyal person would make him the unluckiest bastard in the world because he’s sure to get attached. after all, yeonjun’s always been a people person - a part of him that hasn’t died, no matter how much he wants it to. even now, even when he knows that attachment is a synonym for heartbreak and that even meeting other new people would set himself up for more pain than he’s already felt, he craves conversation some days.

he decides that it’s still light out enough that he doesn’t have to look for immediate cover, opting instead to find the nearest bathroom. it’s a women’s, but he doesn’t give a damn. he prays that he’ll find some kind of running water, though he isn’t sure if he’s lucky enough for that.

five sinks, five faucets. it’s the fourth one from the entrance that even budges, and yeonjun watches with bated breath as it begins drip, drip, dripping until, suddenly, a single stream of water shoots out.

yeonjun stares for a moment, too shocked to move. then, as if a switch flips, he pulls out the bottle he’d found earlier and fills it up to the brim before taking a sip, two sips, and refilling what he’s just drank. he plugs the drain and lets the sink fill before turning the faucet off, though not before he prays that it’ll turn back on later. as quickly as possible, yeonjun strips down entirely and begins scooping up handfuls of water. he watches in the dirt-specked mirror as the rivulets run down his body, down his ribs that are easily countable and his thighs that are covered in dust.

he almost cries when he realizes that the hand soap dispenser by the fifth sink still has some left in it. yeonjun takes care not to use too much, leaving some for if he ever comes back here - though he knows that isn’t likely. he lathers the soap over himself and washes that off too before scraping out the dirt from underneath his nails into the remaining water in the sink. he pulls his pants and shoes back on before rummaging around in his backpack for the shirt he’d taken from an abandoned clothing store a few days back.

it’s a soft wine color, and he knows that if he had the luxury of caring about his clothes, he’d love this shirt. he pulls it on without giving it a thought, ignoring that it’s a size too large. he pulls out the razor, shaves with some hand soap into the sink. he’s gotten good at shaving nearly dry and not cutting himself. after all, it would be a shame to waste band-aids on something as silly as a shaving nick. the water is dirty now, but yeonjun still watches as he unplugs the drain and it swirls down, down, down into pipes that lead God-knows-where.

he doesn’t turn the faucet back on.

once back in the main station, yeonjun finds a ticketing booth fairly quickly, wondering why this particular town hadn’t switched over to electronic systems. he has no idea of where he is, and he’s resigned to the fact that he likely never will. the door to the booth is locked, but that means nothing to yeonjun.

lock-picking is just one of many, many skills he’s picked up in the past few years. he pulls out his makeshift picking set, choosing three pins and placing two of them between his teeth while going to work with the thinnest of the bunch. it doesn’t work, and he switches it out for a second one, ignoring the taste of metal against his tongue.

yeonjun allows himself to feel a moment of satisfaction at the click he hears once he figures it out. he pulls the door open, expecting dust and years’ old train schedules.

instead, he gets a knife under his chin.

he’s staring directly into another person’s eyes rather than into an empty room like he’d figured he would find. dressed in dark colors just as he is, the person has a black mask on their face that they pull off hastily with the hand that isn’t gripping the knife.

on the flip side, you’re just as floored as he is. when you’d heard the gears of the lock turning from the outside, you’d expected the worst - a New Government Official (or Roamers, as you’ve nicknamed them) out for your breath and blood. instead, you’re staring up at a boy who can’t be more than a couple years older than you.

“what the fuck,” you whisper, taking a microscopic step closer to the darkness of the booth. “you aren’t a Roamer.”

yeonjun’s throat has gone dry, and he blinks rapidly as you draw your knife away, staring at him with just as much shock in your eyes as he has in his. the tang of the metal pins against his tongue brings him back to the moment, and he spits them both out into his hand. Roamer? do you mean Official?

“what -”

“whatever,” you respond even though he has barely made a sound, moving further back into the booth. “come in now if you’re planning to, otherwise i’m leaving you out for them to find.”

he doesn’t say anything, instead brushing past you as he walks into the cramped space. he hurriedly puts his pins back into their set, shoving it haphazardly into his backpack before zipping it shut. you close the door quickly, locking it as you do so.

“how’d you get the key?” he asks, wincing at how hoarse his voice is after ages of non-use. you ignore how gravelly he sounds, instead turning to rummage through the items on top of the booth’s desk. there might be something of importance, something usable to you on it.

searching for something, anything, is a hard feat in the dark, but neither of you dare to bring out a light source.

“found the ticketer’s body by a school,” you eventually respond. “reeked of alcohol, but he had this and a deck of cards.”

yeonjun realizes that you must’ve run across soju-man. he sends two mental prayers for the ticketer’s soul - one for the alcohol he’d found earlier, and one for the key. he realizes, also, that he doesn’t want the conversation to end before it starts.

“you took a deck of cards when you had nobody to play with?”

“who said i had nobody to play with?”

“did you?”

you look up from the desk, meeting his eyes in the dark. your gaze has adjusted to the lack of light, and you’re sure his has as well. “you ask too many questions,” you say easily before turning back, no true bite behind your words. he almost laughs in response as he moves closer to look at what you’re searching through.

“maybe i ask just the right amount.” his voice is closer, now, coming from somewhere above you and to your right, and you realize suddenly that he’s tall - quite tall. and he’s so, so close. without meaning to, you tense at the proximity. he feels it, taking a step back in response.

you immediately feel bad, even though you have no reason to.

“i’m (name),” you start, just as you find a map of the city you’re in. for a moment you’re too focused on the piece of paper to continue your introduction, though the boy behind you waits for you to keep speaking. once you do, the first thing that falls from your lips is “lewisville,”.

“that’s an… interesting last name to have,” is the response you get, and you shake your head quickly.

“no, i mean i’m- we’re - in lewisville,” you tell him. he moves close to you again, tentatively this time. your muscles don’t contract on instinct like they had before.

“i’m yeonjun,” he mutters before gently taking the map from your grasp. you don’t ask for his last name - it isn’t important. finding out your location has shocked you dumb, and fear permeates your numbed being as it hasn’t in years. as your eyes trace over his concentrated figure, you’re suddenly overcome with the urge to ask a question that you’d sworn yourself to never ask again.

and yet you can’t keep yourself from voicing it aloud.

“can i trust you, yeonjun?” your voice is suddenly small, and seems to shrink even more as you trail off once you get to his name. he turns, stares down at you for what feels like eons, fighting a mental battle that you’ll never know the extent of.

he realizes one thing as he mulls your question over.

you’re a scared kid, just like him. it’s why he pushes his fear of trust, his fear of loss, his fear of attachment down, down, down, locking them up as best he can in this moment.

it’s why, against his better judgment, against the deafening screams in his head to deny you and to run, run as far as he can, he nods his head. it’s slow, and would be imperceptible if you weren’t suddenly hyperfocused on his face, but you are and you see it.

“only if i can trust you, (name),” he eventually whispers, and you nod, too. he hands you back the map before sitting down - slowly, so as to not make a noise - on the ground. you follow him, trying to ignore how your fingers, curled harshly around the fragile piece of paper, are trembling.

“i’m from (hometown),” you whisper, and yeonjun’s eyes widen slightly at how far you’ve travelled before he tells you his hometown. you almost gasp at the extent of his journey, as well. your eyes both travel down to the map in your hands, eyes zeroing in on the town’s name and state written across the top in loud red letters.

“how the fuck,” yeonjun starts, pausing as he makes eye contact with you. you shake your head at the question you know he’s going to ask, just as lost on the answer as he is. your hands shake harder, and he leans in, grabbing your wrists between his two hands to stop you, grounding you even though, minutes before, he hadn’t known of your existence and you hadn’t been aware of his. he continues speaking.

“how the fuck did we accidentally end up in the suburbs of the New Government’s capital?”

#yeonjun #yeonjun imagine #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun scenario #yeonjun scenarios #tomorrow x together #txt scenario #txt #txt scenarios #tomorrow x together scenario #tomorrow x together scenarios #txt imagine #choi yeonjun #txt yeonjun #tomorrow x together imagine #tomorrow x together imagines #billie eilish #khalid

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deez-no-relation · 5 years ago

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As requested, here's the old DT bi tea (well, back then it was gay tea, but time has proven him a versatile man). All courtesy of DataLounge.

1. This was recently provided by a DT fan who read DataLounge back before DT became the Doctor. I quote: "I don't think any names were ever mentioned (that I recall) regarding the potential boyfriend(s), and the person who saw him making out with the other guy didn't know who he was, just that they were sure it was David and that the two of them were really getting into it. All I know is that some people who were apparently in the know (so they said) seemed very certain indeed that there was no way he was 100% straight. Just wanted to add that all of this was before his tenure as the Doctor. The general consensus was that all of this had to hushed up due to the extra attention he'd get because of the role. You know, god forbid anything so sordid be connected to a family show that children watch. :-P"

2. From the few DT threads that are still up: "An ex sub-editor at The Sun newspaper was waxing lyrical over the Christmas period at a private party about the real reason for the break up of Rebekah Wade's marriage to Ross Kemp. Wade was at the time the editor of The Sun and this person's boss. She found Kemp and Tennant in bed. Revenge served cold and all that."

3. Another DataLounger who works in the industry claims that DT made a pass at him at a celebrity wedding. Unfortunately, I didn't save the post and can't find it now.

4. A DataLounger who calls himself Dame Maggie Smith has steadily claimed that he'd gone to drama school with DT and that DT was quietly out during those years.

Now, before anybody gets overexcited, you should know that by DataLounge's own rules of the game, these random rumors don't amount to much. DataLounge is a gay gossip site, so every celebrity discussed there is gay by default, to be proven otherwise. Those boys had the dish on many a famous man years before they came out (Kevin Spacey and Lee Pace, to name just two), but it was the result of painstakingly collected gossip from multiple sources, verified against known facts and dates. The final verdict is reached by consensus, and with DT there isn't one: plenty of other random voices have been piping in about his affairs with women, his kinky relationship with his wife, etc. What I personally find a lot more relevant is how all these new Tumblr fans of DT, who have never heard a whisper of rumor, are coming to the conclusion that he's bi based on the man's own public behavior.

#david tennant tea #hot tea #bi-tea #submission

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camillemontespan · 5 years ago

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the history of us [drake x camille] [part three: 11th July- make it up to her]

Part Two if you want to catch up.

Warnings: NSFW. Feelings.

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @dcbbw @notoriouscs @emceesynonymroll @burnsoslow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @iplaydrake @drakewalkerisreal @moneyfordiamonds @cordoniasmost @gardeningourmet @katedrakeohd @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld @ccolz88-blog

Drake sat on the sofa two hours after opening Camille’s diary. He felt numb; so numb. He hadn’t realised Camille kept a diary and documented everything so religiously. He was seeing himself from her eyes and the view was not pretty. Sure, they had had amazing moments the past four months, but a lot of it had been.. dark.

He was knocked out of his overthinking by Olive. The corgi nudged Drake’s leg, asking for attention. Olive adored Drake. Maybe it because he always fed her more dog treats than he should, or maybe it was because Olive just loved being around humans, but she always followed Drake everywhere.

Cheddar was more of Camille’s dog; Olive was Drake’s.

Drake picked her up and she settled down on his lap, licking his fingers. ‘I’ve fucked up, Olive,’ he whispered, stroking her ears. Olive looked up at him. He swore she had a sad look in her eyes.

‘Let’s watch some TV, huh?’ he suggested. He turned the TV on and as usual, it settled on the news. Drake swiftly turned it over to a chat show. It was a panel of women who were drinking cocktails and cackling.

Well, it was better than the news who always reported on Drake and Camille.

The women sipped their cocktails. ‘So,’ one of them said, ‘the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria. What do we think is going on there ladies?’

A brunette downed her drink and leaned forward. ‘If I speak candidly,’ she said loudly, ‘I think there’s been trouble in paradise for some time. Have you seen those paparazzi pictures whenever they’re out together? They look so withdrawn from each other. Bear in mind, only last year photos always showed them holding hands and smiling at each other. Now, it’s different.’

Drake smirked. What did this bitch know? Sometimes, photos were taken when they weren’t smiling - that was normal. Nobody was happy 24/7.

The blonde panel member spoke up. ‘I know what you mean. It’s like their chemistry is off. Then we have Camille attending royal events alone.’

‘That is the red flag right there,’ another of the witches piped up. ‘She gets all dressed up for these events, sometimes has Lily with her, but never Drake. They used to be inseparable.’

Drake had to turn it off. He couldn’t take any more of their theories and venom. They were discussing his private life on national TV over fucking cocktails. What show was this? He brought up the information screen.

‘Cocktails in Cordonia.’ What trash.

Drake sighed and glanced at Camille’s diary. He needed to read more, as she wanted. He didn’t know what she was hoping to achieve. Make him feel shit?Show him what a bad husband he was?

Camille wasn’t vindictive though. She wasn’t petty and she didn’t bear grudges. She had to have a reason.

He turned to the next page and prepared himself for another trip down memory lane.

11th July 2023

It’s the Summertime Ball tonight. Liam holds the ball every year and it’s become a highlight of the social calendar. I’ve got my gold dress all ready and I bought Lily a beautiful pink chiffon dress with silver stars embroidered on it. She looks like the sugarplum fairy in it and she twirled around the kitchen, asking Drake to tell her she looks pretty.

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

‘Tell me I look pretty, Daddy!’ Lily cried, twirling around the kitchen. Her pink dress blew out around her and she looked so pleased with her outfit. Camille had arranged her dark hair into a ballerina bun and Lily had insisted on having her nails painted a glittery pink.

Drake picked her up and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

‘You are the prettiest girl in the world!’ he told her. Lily beamed and snuggled into his chest, a lazy smile on her face. To her, Drake was her world and that was all that mattered.

Camille was watching them, her eyes shining. This was all she had ever wanted. A family. Her own little family.

Drake placed Lily back down and he grinned at his wife. ‘You look incredible.’

Camille blushed. She was wearing a long gold halterneck dress made of silk. It skimmed her curves and showed off her caramel skin. Camille stepped forward and ran her hands down his chest. Drake was wearing a new suit; Camille loved it when he made an effort.

‘We should get going,’ she told him. ‘Cordonia society awaits!’

She took Lily’s hand and the two of them left the kitchen to the waiting car. As the door opened, Drake heard Geoffrey say, ‘Lily, you look like a fairy princess!’

Drake chuckled but his smile soon faded. Another Cordonian ball. Their first since they had come back from Texas. He knew they would be interrogated by the other nobles. How was Texas? Why were they away so long? How is Valtoria? Is Lily still eating McDonalds?

The thought filled him with dread.

He poured himself a double measure of whiskey and downed it. He needed liquid courage to get him through the evening.

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

Maxwell had descended on Lily as soon as he saw her. ‘You look so pretty!’ he shrieked, picking her up and twirling around. Lily laughed and stopped when she saw Maxwell’s bow tie. It was a squid. She reached out her hand and gently touched it, whispering, ‘wow...’

Bertrand came over to greet Camille and Drake. ‘Camille, you look stunning as always,’ he told her warmly. ‘How was Texas? I’m sorry you had to come back early.’

Camille smiled. ‘Texas was amazing. Just lazy days, lots of family time. We needed it, didn’t we Drake?’

Drake nodded. ‘Definitely. So good to get a break.’

Liam wandered over with Hana, Olivia and Leo in tow. The group were now reunited and Hana pulled Camille in for a hug, excited to see her best friend again.

Maxwell put Lily down and she skipped over to the group. She needed to see her Aunt Olivia. She adored the 5′11 redhead with high cheekbones, straight posture and icy blue eyes. The infatuation had began about a year ago when Lily had cast her eyes on the many ruby rings Olivia wore. Lily was a magpie and loved anything shiny; when Olivia let her wear a ruby ring that was far too big for her small fingers, Lily fell in love.

She fell hard for her Aunt Olivia after that. Olivia found it a little strange at first, not used to being adored, especially by children god forbid, but she soon began to enjoy it whenever Lily asked to see Olivia. It showed the child had taste.

‘Aunt Olivia, do you like my dress?’ she asked shyly. Olivia’s eyes ran over the dress. Drake prayed she would be kind; he knew pink was not Olivia’s favourite colour by a long stretch.

‘I think you look gorgeous, babe,’ Olivia said honestly. ‘I love the stars.’

Lily giggled. Because Olivia loved the dress, she wasn’t planning to take it off for the next week.

The live band began to play a jazz number. Lily looked up at Drake. ‘Daddy, dance with me.’

Camille nudged Drake, who picked up his daughter. ‘Come on, show me your best moves,’ he said, carrying her to the dance floor. He set her down and took her by her hands; his hands were gigantic around hers. Drake had to bend to dance with her, twirling her around.

This was the only time when Drake was really comfortable on the dancefloor. When he danced with Camille, he felt calm, knowing the steps, but he still felt a little out of place no matter how hard she tried to convince him that he was a good dancer. But when he was with Lily, he forgot about everyone around them. It was just him and his little girl, dancing together. They didn’t need to do the moves, why would they? She was four. Instead, he twirled her around, swung her up in the air so her dress flew out, making her a fairy in flight. There were no rules or etiquette needed for dancing with Lily. It was just fun. It was free.

Drake picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he bobbed around in a circle. Camille and Hana watched them together.

‘He’s such a good dad, isn’t he?’ Hana whispered.

Camille nodded, smiling. ‘He really is. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to us.’

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

‘So, Drake, how does it feel being back in Cordonia?’ Lord Stanley asked. Drake plastered an artificial smile on his face. ‘It feels good! It’s nice to get back to normality.’

The lie came out of his mouth so easily.

‘We heard that you’re thinking about sending Lily to a regular school?’ Lady Victoria probed. ‘That’s a different choice. Every other noble child has gone to boarding school.’

Drake fought back the urge to tell her to fuck herself. Instead, he cleared his throat. ‘Well, as myself and Camille were born commoners, we want Lily to have the same sort of childhoods that we had. We want her to make friends with kids who aren’t noble so she can see there’s other ways of living.’

‘Other ways of living..’ Victoria murmured, her eyes wide.

‘Surely though she will inherit the duchy of Valtoria?’ Stanley asked, struggling to keep up with Drake’s modern way of thinking. ‘If she doesn’t go to boarding school with other nobles, she won’t know how to support her people!’

Drake cast his eyes around the room, searching for Camille. He needed his team mate.

‘Well, Lily might not want to inherit the duchy,’ Drake said casually. ‘We want her to see the world, learn other cultures, just be grounded and more openminded.’

The two nobles were staring at Drake as if he had grown three heads.

‘Besides, we can teach her how to support the duchy if needed,’ Drake went on. He was trying to justify his parenting decisions to these people and he had no idea why. What he and Camille chose to do for their daughter wasn’t their business.

‘But it could be good for her to meet other noble children?’ Victoria suggested. Drake ignored her and his eyes found Camille’s.

Camille excused herself from talking to Liam and she came over to help Drake.

‘Ah, Lord Stanley, Lady Victoria! How good to see you both again,’ Camille said.

The lie came out of her mouth so easily.

‘Duchess Camille, you look glowing!’ Victoria said, taking her by the hands. ‘What’s your secret?’

‘Creme de la Mer,’ Camille deadpanned. Victoria blinked.

‘Uh, so Drake was just telling us that next year, you might be sending Lily to a regular school?’ Stanley said.

‘Not might,’ Drake corrected him. ‘We will be.’

Camille looked at Drake and his eyes bore into hers. She knew without speaking that he been getting interrogated. She took Drake’s hand and placed her hand on his chest.

‘Yes, we’re so excited for Lily to go to a school with normal kids. More relaxed, she can meet all kinds of people and think for herself!’

Victoria frowned. ‘Are you saying our children can’t think for themselves?’

‘Welllll..’ Camille shrugged. ‘Anyway, so lovely to see you again. We need to circulate, there’s so many people we haven’t spoken to yet.’ She dragged Drake away.

‘Jesus, they’re horrible,’ she muttered under her breath. Drake smirked. ‘Glad you think so. Who honestly gives a shit about what we do? It’s our life.’

Camille bit her lip. ‘I think because we’re already so different from them, they want to see how we run things. Clearly, sending Lily to boarding school was an expectation that we have yet again not met.’

‘We’re not sending her away,’ Drake ground out. Camille looked up at him and gave his hand a squeeze. They both looked out at the dance floor to see Lily dancing with her Uncle Leo and Uncle Maxwell, who were showing her how to do the robot.

‘I promise that’s not going to happen. She’s ours.’

She kissed him gently. ‘I’m going to continue my conversation with Liam. Want to join?’

‘In a moment,’ he told her. ‘You go ahead.’

She left him to it. Drake went to the bar and ordered a glass of whiskey, double measure. He sank the drink then gestured to the bartender for another.

He studied the nobles around him. Aside from his friends, he hated everyone in the room. The way they spoke to him and Camille so patronisingly grated. They always looked like they felt sorry for them. Like Drake and Camille knew nothing. Like they were going to destroy Valtoria with their inexperience, despite the fact that they had been Duke and Duchess for four years.

Fuck them.

Drake sipped more of his whiskey and watched his wife burst out laughing at something Liam said. She looked at home here. She was certainly more regal than Drake. He sometimes worried he held her back, but he never told her that. He knew she would get upset if she knew the thoughts that went through his mind.

But he knew she hated the nobles too. They would bitch about them while having drinks on their balcony. Camille was just better at hiding it.

Drake signalled for another drink.

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

They got home around midnight. Lily had fallen asleep on Drake’s lap when they had been sat at the table in the ballroom, which called for them to head home. Once Camille set her down in bed, she kissed her forehead and left the bedroom door slightly ajar; Lily was scared of the dark and felt better when she could see the hallway light.

Drake’s head was spinning. Usually, he was a heavy weight but with each drink he had drank tonight, he had asked for double measures. Silly idea.

He fell back onto the bed, still dressed in his suit, and looked up at the spinning ceiling. He heard Camille enter the bedroom and shut the door.

‘You okay there, champ?’ she joked. She hadn’t realised how much Drake had drank, instead thinking he had just drank whiskey on an empty stomach and that was why he was conked out on the bed.

She got on her knees and crawled towards him, suspending her body over his. He smelled of whiskey. Drake looked into her eyes and reached out to twirl a lock of her hair around his finger.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered.

Camille smiled. ‘You’re drunk.’

‘Yeah. You’re still beautiful though.’

Camille leaned down to kiss his neck, enjoying the groan that escaped his lips. She began to peel off his suit jacket and unbutton his shirt, exposing his broad chest. She loved how broad he was; how manly he was.

Kissing down his chest, she stopped when she heard him snore.

Oh well. He would just have to make it up to her tomorrow.

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

Drake did make it up to her the next morning. He had a memory that she had tried to make a move on him last night but he had been so drunk, he’d fallen asleep. His face flamed red when he remembered this.

Her alarm had gone off and she slipped into the bathroom to shower. Drake followed. His head may have been aching but he wanted to make it up to her.

Drake knocked on the shower door. Camille turned to open the door and she looked out at him, her hair slicked back from the water. Drake’s eyes roamed her naked body hungrily.

‘You coming in?’ she asked, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. Drake gave her a wolfish grin and stripped off his clothes. He let himself into the shower.

His hands slid down her wet body, slick from the water and shining. He kissed her neck and moved down to tease her nipple with his tongue. Camille gasped and closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations.

Drake gently pushed her up against the wall and lifted her by the ass. She wound her legs around his waist, crying out when she felt his cock enter her. He wasn’t taking his time; he wanted to make it up to her.

‘Fuck Drake..’ she breathed, digging her fingernails into his back. Drake began to drive into her, keeping her body supported as he did so. His hips bucked against hers, grinding into her deeply, not wanting to stop. Drake wanted to make it up to her.

As he bucked against her, he placed his finger on her clit and began to circle. She let out a groan as he teased her, feeling her core begin to come alive. Their bodies moved together, desperately now, as Drake began to increase the pace. He was relentless. He wanted to make it up to her.

Their mouths found each other and their tongues twisted, dancing. Drake could feel Camille’s fingernails digging into his back, probably scratching his skin but he didn’t care.

He could smell the coconut shampoo she used and he inhaled her scent. She was his own personal paradise.

‘Drake, I’m gonna cum,’ she breathed. Drake continued to drive into her, keeping up momentum.

‘Cum for me,’ he growled in her ear.

She let go, crashing over the wave. Her body jerked against his and she wrapped her legs around him tighter. Drake followed after, crying out her name into the crook of her shoulder.

‘I love you,’ she whispered. Drake kissed her neck, then her cheek, then her lips.

‘I love you too.’

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

Drake stopped reading the diary entry. Camille hadn’t written about the shower sex but she had written about the ball and about the stuffy nobles.

They’re so judgemental, I’m sick of it. But I can’t say anything to them otherwise I’d cause a riot, so instead I plaster a fake smile on my face and act like Duchess Camille. Who even is Duchess Camille? She’s not me. She’s elegant and knows etiquette and how to smile. She can curtsey and knows how to use the correct cutlery at dinner. Her fake laugh is fantastic, it sounds so genuine. But she’s not really me. She is a part I play.

Sometimes I wish I could just be normal Camille. The one who wears denim shorts and oversized sweaters. I’d love to go to a football game with Drake and eat hotdogs and not have to worry about anyone bothering us. I’d love to take Lily out to the park without needing a bodyguard.

But we signed up for this life when we became Duke and Duchess. It was always going to be hard. I just want us to try and be as normal as possible and that includes sending Lily to a normal school. I’m so happy Drake and I share the same values; we’re a good team. As long as we have each other, it’s going to be alright.

Drake swallowed a sob. His breath became haggered and his head began to swim again. His vision began to blur and that was when he realised he was crying.

Drake had only cried three times in his life.

When he was told his father was dead.

When he saw Camille walking up the aisle towards him on their wedding day.

When he held Lily in his arms for the first time.

This was the fourth time in his life Drake cried. How could he have fucked up something so good? Something that made him happy? How could he have pushed away the one person who truly saw him for who he was?

Drake wiped his eyes roughly and looked through the box again. He came across a photo of him, Camille and Lily playing rock paper scissors while sat at a table during one of the palace balls. His memory flashed back and he remembered that Maxwell had taken the photo of the family.

They looked carefree. They didn’t care what people thought of them.

Drake sniffled and put the photo down, picking up the diary again. He needed to keep reading. It was what Camille wanted him to do and he was sick of letting her down.

He turned the page.

#drake walker #trr fanfic #the royal romance

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raendown · 7 years ago

Link

Pairing: none Word count: 3420 Summary: Travelling through time was a complete accident. So was passing on the idea to someone much more dangerous.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Forward And Back (And Leave It There)

Madara squinted his eyes and leaned closed, finger poised at the ready. A quiet voice told him it was a bad idea but there was little that could stop a curious Uchiha and so Madara felt no shame for ignoring the idiot behind him and poking the object which held his fascination. He regretted doing so immediately when he felt the tip of his finger come in to contact with something incredibly hot. Only then did his brain catch up with what he was seeing and rationalize it; whatever advanced jutsu they were using had contained fire itself in to this pale orb so of course it would burn.

“Please stop poking at my lightbulbs,” the same voice asked him tiredly. Madara turned to glare over one shoulder.

“Tell me what jutsu does this,” he demanded.

“It’s not a jutsu, it’s electricity.”

“Brother’s been using that word a lot lately,” Hashirama piped up from where he was excitedly inspecting a funny looking stove across the room. “Is that what it does? And this, does this use elek-i-ticity too?”

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, their accidental host sighed. “Yes.”

“Madara, do you think elek-i-ticity is why we time traveled?”

“Of course not! Obviously it was your insane brother’s fault! Who knows what kind of madness he’s messed around with this time? If he can raise the dead then I certainly wouldn’t put it past him to have been the one behind all of this kerfuffle.”

Still rubbing his nose, although now more slightly more vigor, their host grit his teeth. “I’ve already told you, the time travel was an accident. I haven’t quite gotten the hang of my Mangekyo–”

“And that’s another thing! How dare you! What member of my clan did you steal that from? Don’t look at me like that, young man, it’s obvious just by looking at you that you aren’t an Uchiha. My clan’s bloodlines run strong.”

“Is he always like this, Shodaime-sama?” When Madara squawked in offense the young man turned back to him with a roll of his one visible eye. “I didn’t steal the eye; it was a gift from a friend. And I’m still trying to get the hang of everything – by myself, since no one in your oh-so-auspicious clan is willing to help me learn.” Despite the youth of his body there was an exhaustion in his voice that spoke of more years of pain than he should have experienced. It made Madara wonder if he’d been born with that gray hair or if stress had drained all the color away as parents the world over claimed.

There was something about that exhaustion which gave him pause. Years ago, when he and Hashirama were just young kids dreaming beside a lazy river, the first concept of their dreams for peace had been in honor of their fallen siblings. Together they had dreamed of a place where children would be safe and the adults would stop asking the younger generations to fight their battles for them.

How old, he wondered, had this child been when he saw his first battlefield? At present he could hardly be more than mid-adolescence and yet already the light in his eye was dim.

Madara crossed his arms and looked away with a stubborn expression on his face.

“I still say Tobirama must have had something to do with this,” he insisted. “This isn’t anything I’ve ever heard of the Sharingan being able to accomplish.”

“Cold! Cold!” Hashirama’s voice drew both of their attentions over to where he’d opened the top door of what looked like an upright storage chest only to find the inside coated in ice. Their host dropped his face in to one palm and shook his head.

Unable to resist, Madara sidled across the room to help his old friend inspect the latest marvel. The future was full of such amazing things. Back in his own time he’d heard of the daimyo’s latest expensive luxury purchase called an icebox and he wondered how similar it was to the small frozen cupboard he was shoving his face in to at the moment. Several frozen fish stared back at him from between brightly colored boxes labelled with food items he’d never heard of before. What on earth was a pudding pop?

When Hashirama shoved him out of the way to make a closer inspection for himself, Madara opened the lower door of this strange cupboard. Although it was larger, the lower portion was noticeably less cold. Nothing inside was frozen but rather kept at a delightfully chill temperature that one might expect to find in the evenings of late autumn. Fascinated, he rummaged around and breathed a sigh of relief that he recognized at least most of the foods inside this area. He knew the fruits and the vegetables, the milk and the butter, and although he definitely recognized the teriyaki chicken cutlets near the bottom, he couldn’t say what that thin clear sheet wrapped around the top was. What was the point of cooking the chicken if it wasn’t going to be eaten?

“This is amazing,” he heard Hashirama mutter from above him. Madara was inclined to agree.

“Can you guys close the fridge please? You’ll let all the food spoil and it wastes power to leave the doors open like that, you know? Well, actually, I guess you don’t know.”

“Power?” Madara frowned in confusion.

“Electricity.”

“Why did you call it power if it is called…that?” He certainly wasn’t going to make a fool of himself as Hashirama kept doing by taking a chance on mispronouncing it.

“It means the same thing. Just a slang word. Could you close the door?”

With a shrug Madara stood up and deigned to do so. Hashirama popped the top door shut on the ice cupboard but as soon as he’d let go of that he was back over at the fancy looking stove, poking at buttons.

“Hey! Hey Madara! Let’s light this! Do you think the fire goes in here?”

“Don’t!” The adolescent came flying across the room and shoved himself in between the stove and his two visitors. “It doesn’t need fire. Just – please go sit down in the living room before I have a heart attack or something.”

“My apologies if we’ve touched something we shouldn’t,” Hashirama told him. Instead of answering, the youth only narrowed his eyes and insistently pointed the way to the living room.

Within five minutes it became obvious that it was just as dangerous for them to be in here as both Madara and Hashirama attempted to figure out how the ‘tiny people’ had gotten trapped inside the wooden box against one wall.

“It’s just my television,” their host moaned in despair. He claimed it would take much too long to explain to them how the device worked but without a satisfactory explanation Madara was still much too curious to back off. He continued to bend left and right in an effort to peer at all sides of the box so he could find the hole where the little people entered through. Maybe a door or some kind? There were a lot of weird ropes – apparently called wires although it didn’t look like any wire he’d ever seen – but he didn’t see anything that could be considered an entrance. How the people got shrunk was more important anyway. What a jutsu that would be! Defeating his enemies would be so much easier if he could make them pocket sized and hold them down with the flat of one palm.

“How are these bound?” Hashirama asked from where he now stood next to a squat wooden bookcase. “I can’t even see the stitching.”

“Please put those down, Shodaime-sama!”

“But they’re so pretty! Such a beautiful orange color and the women on the front look very happy.”

“Gah!”

Flushed red from hairline to the top of his half-mask, the adolescent lunged across the room to extract his seemingly precious tome from Hashirama’s grasp. They must have been worth quite a lot if he was unwilling to let someone as auspicious as the God of Shinobi handle them. With a sheepish expression, Hashirama apologized for touching something of such value, slipping both hands behind his back and wandering away to inspect the pictures hung upon the wall.

Abandoning the ‘television’ for a moment, Madara joined the idiot’s inspection. Whoever painted these photographs was a master artist, able to create incredible detail in their work – it was as though they had simply captured a moment in time and hung it upon the wall somehow! The figures depicted in the painting appeared to be staring straight out of the image in to his own eyes. Most of them were smiling but for the young boy to one side who resembled a younger version of their host; he was scowling and turning his head to glare at another young boy on the other side of the painting.

“My word,” Hashirama murmured under his breath. One of his hands came up to stroke the glass covering which protected the amazing art. Probably it was meant to guard it from people like him who failed to smother their urge to fondle things which didn’t belong to them. Entirely ignoring the fact that he also fell in to that category of person at the moment, Madara returned to his perusal of this ‘television’ object, now looking for any seals which might have been powering it.

From the corner of one eye he could see their host bring his hands together and forming seals. Madara’s body tensed automatically until he recognized the summoning jutsu and he relaxed again when the boy placed his hand on the floor and a small pug appeared in a puff of smoke wearing a cute little vest.

“What’s up boss?”

“Can you just…just watch them for a minute, okay? Make sure they don’t break anything or – or leave, kami forbid.”

“Sure thing.” The puff hopped up on to a the arm of a dilapidated looking couch and sat at attention for all of three seconds before his back leg came up to scratch his ear.

With a shake of his head their host popped back in to the kitchen area, where he could be heard rummaging through doors and cupboards. Quiet grumbling drifted out in to the living room as he muttered to himself under his breath.

Madara had only just given up on locating any seals on the surface of the ‘television’ and plopped down in front of it to attempt communication with the people trapped inside when their host came back. He was holding what looked like a small pellet in his hand, dark and round, but before either of them had a chance to ask about it he popped it in to his mouth and crunched down.

“Is that a good idea, boss?” the pug asked gruffly. “Your chakra levels have been wacky enough lately without you taking boosters every time you get a little tired.”

“Trust me, it’s necessary this time. I promise when it happens next I’ll just sleep it off, alright? But I need to replenish my chakra stores if I’m going to get these two back to where they belong; they can’t stay here!”

“Alright, alright.”

“Oh, we can’t stay?” Hashirama turned away from his perusal of more amazing portraits. “I had hoped to have a look around the village that we built.”

The boy gave him a flat look. “It’s very village-like,” he said shortly. Hashirama wilted.

“Oh. Well, ah, thank you. I suppose that covers that.”

“Right. Were either of you doing anything of note just before you were pulling forward in time?”

“Nothing more out of the ordinary than me showing this oaf his own ass,” Madara replied, a suspicious grimace falling over his features as his mind went back to the battle they had been pulled out of. “But kami only knows what that fool Tobirama was up to. I’ve no doubt that whatever dangerous idiocy he was up to this time could have affected us as far away as the other side of the battlefield.”

Groaning, the host rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he had been doing before. “How many times–? It was my–! Never mind. Whatever. Can you both just stand together in the middle of the room so I can try to replicate what I was doing? Hopefully this should send you back to whenever it is that you came from.”

Like the giant puppy he was, Hashirama hopped to immediately. Madara followed with a heavy dose of reluctance and much less speed. Just because they were friends once didn’t mean he had to be excited to stand next to the man. Once they were both standing together in the center of the room as they’d been asked to their host lifted his slanted headband to reveal a transplanted Sharingan. With a spark of chakra Madara activated his own, memorizing the sight before him and recording the proceedings for later consideration. If one of his own clan members could unlock similar abilities it would be his duty to care for their safety as they learned how to wield them; any information at all would be helpful and a practical demonstration even more so.

The boy’s eye melted in to Mangekyo formation, whereupon its ceased spinning as all did when they reached that stage, and he brought his hands together in an ancient seal designed to gather chakra in preparation for a big release.

“Kamui!”

The world melted. It was the only way Madara could think of to describe it. Or perhaps he might have said that reality itself was reduced to the eye of a hurricane. Either way, the room around them disappeared in a spiral of black and Hashirama’s fingers clutched at the sleeve of Madara’s robes, keeping a good grip on him in case they were somehow separated in this emptiness between worlds. Stupid, really, to worry for someone he should have seen as his enemy. For a moment there was a sensation – almost an instinctual feeling – as though they were somewhere other and Madara had the fleeting thought that the two most powerful men to have ever existed had put their full trust in the hands of a boy whose name they never even bothered to learn.

Yet the moment passed quickly and they traveled seamlessly from one reality to the next, appearing back in a half decimated forest clearing as though they’d never left. The two men looked at each other in silence before turning to watch the fighting going on around them, wondering if anyone had even noticed their little trip. It became obvious that at least some people had when they noticed the relieved looks both of them were receiving. Their clan mates were happy to see them back after disappearing so suddenly, though unwilling to disengage from defending themselves just to come over and say so.

Both of their brothers, on the other hand, had no problem rushing over with matching expressions of suspicion. Madara allowed Izuna to lay a hand on his arm for a moment in greeting before he peeled back his lips and snarled at Tobirama, now standing protectively in front of his own older brother like some rabid guard dog.

“You!”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes cocked his head to one side at Madara’s angry shout.

“Can I help you, Uchiha?” he asked.

“I still say this was all your fault somehow! What have you done? What unholy jutsu were you messing with now that sent us through time itself?”

“Sent you through time?” Put off balance by such an unexpected answer, he turned his head to stare his sibling down with a look of vicious intensity. “What is he talking about? Give me details.”

Madara scowled at him and crossed his arms petulantly. “Oh as if you don’t know! Whatever it was that you did sent us in to the future – which, by the way, is incredibly stupid and confusing. Cupboards full of ice and tiny people trapped in boxes and fire contained in tiny glass orbs. And it’s all your fault!”

“Time travel. Hmm.”

“See? Brother didn’t have anything to do with it,” Hashirama chipped in. “Just as that boy said. It was an accident!

“Indeed, time travel is not something that I had previously considered as an area of experimentation. What a fascinating idea. To know that such a thing is possible – I know just where to begin my research!” He seemed to have already forgotten about the bloody sword still held fast in one hand, the other one already curling as though aching for a pen to fit between his fingers.

“Uh, what?” Although it was Hashirama whom he always met in battle and had gotten to know well when they were friends all those years ago, no familiarity was needed to recognize certain warning signs when it came to Tobirama. Worry settled over Madara as he noticed several of them now.

Tobirama refocused on his enemy just to grace him with a dangerous smile. “I must thank you, Uchiha, though it pains me a little to do so. What a fascinating concept you’ve given me. Time travel. Excellent. And it’s all thanks to you.” With that he turned and marched away, either forgetting they were still technically in the middle of battle or dismissing it as unimportant in the face of something more interesting.

“No! Senju get back here! I said no! Are you listening to me!?”

Once his hair had settled in the wake of a harried looking Madara rushing past him, Izuna following after, Hashirama stared blankly in to space for a while, simply allowing his mind a moment to process everything that had happened in such a short amount of time. Their trip to the future had only lasted a little over an hour yet he felt as though his entire perception of life had been altered. Although they hadn’t been able to explore or ask questions, they had still learned a few invaluable secrets which he knew he would keep close to his heart for the rest of his life.

His village, his precious lifelong dream, would someday become a true reality. Not only that but it would thrive and prosper many years after he was gone. Even long in to the future the village he built would stand as a beacon of safety and community, a place for those of different clans to live together in peace with each other. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, feeling as though he’d been granted a boon by the gods themselves; surely no man but him could have such certainty in their own dreams.

Then he turned and hurried after the other three men, if only to prevent Madara and Izuna from following a distracted Tobirama all the back to the Senju compound.

(Blinking tiredly at the now-empty space in his living room, Kakashi sighed and wondered if he should report what had just happened to the Third Hokage. He wondered if there were any official records which should have warned them that this would even occur someday. Although, he reasoned, if there were then they would probably have encouraged someone more important to be present than a scrawny teenager who was too young to have been in ANBU for this many years already.

Some day when he was older Kakashi would meet a man who would call himself Uchiha Madara and threaten the shinobi system as a whole. When that day came Kakashi would be among those inclined to believe that the man might just be who he claimed to be for he would have a knowledge that others did not.

He had met Uchiha Madara, had pulled the man through time himself. Who was he to say that such a thing had not extended that monster’s life somehow? Time was something no human could control and yet the full abilities of Uchiha Madara had never been recorded. It wasn’t impossible.

For now Kakashi remained blissfully unaware of the future which awaited him. His thoughts were on the present day and how his life existed only as a future for those long gone. Deep thoughts indeed for a boy who only came home to escape a certain loud mouthed friend and would have performed a number of underhanded tasks just to get a quick nap. That was how he preferred to spend his time.)

#rae writes #madara #hashirama #kakashi #tobirama #fanfiction #naruto shippuden

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