#but then the idea happened and yeah 7.6k later. . .

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hi, hope you're alright. I came up with a story idea: the reader is married to Gasly's/Daniel's close friend but their marriage is hanging by a thread. The driver invites her to a few races so she can change the environment, they spend some time together and unexpectedly become lovers. And maybe later her husband is trying to fix their marriage but she and the driver can't stop thinking about each other

His Best Man || DR3

A/N: I took some creative liberties with the plot but I think it does this request justice 💕 ps: never condone cheating, it's horrible and this is purely fictional

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, cheating, smut WC: 7.6k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Daniel’s Reaction

Dinner with James was a quiet affair, though it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Why would your anniversary be any different when his indifference was the only constant at this point?

You watched as he smiled at his phone, something you hadn’t been able to elicit from him in months, before he locked the device and placed it facedown on the table. The sigh that wanted to exhale from your flared nostrils barely remained silent as you focused on shifting the food around your plate, your appetite gone like the connection to your husband. 

“Daniel sent us some passes to the race in Melbourne next month. I thought we could go, make a little holiday out of it?” 

There was no excitement in your tone, it was more a question borne out of politeness because he would have seen the paddock passes sitting on the kitchen side if he ever looked away from his phone. The blasted device vibrated again and his fork clattered on his plate in his rush to read the incoming message. 

“Well?” you asked as his thumbs flew across his screen. 

“Can’t. Work project is going to keep me busy until the deadline,” he answered without looking up. “Take one of your friends, have a girls trip.”

Friends…those people you never saw anymore because James hadn’t liked them, though he never outright said it, those friends who had warned you that you were marrying a narcissist. 

“It’s our anniversary,” you reminded him. “You know, falls on the same day each year.”

“Mhmm, yeah,” he nodded, clearly not listening. “Sounds good.”

You propped your elbow onto the glass tabletop and dropped your chin onto your palm as a familiar burn of resentment simmered in your soul. “The mailman gave me a pearl necklace.”

“That’s nice. Put it on my credit card.” He reached into his back pocket and tossed his wallet across the table, narrowly missing the glass of rosé. 

You opened it and saw the polaroid from your wedding day no longer sat in the clear card slot but was stuffed behind his drivers licence. You shouldn’t have felt hurt after months of being ignored but the pain still surprised you, almost as much as the condom that you found with his cash. He hadn’t bought a box of condoms in at least three years, not since the wedding when you started trying for a baby - something that was probably best that it didn't happen.

“He must eat a lot of pineapples because it tasted delicious,” you murmured as you took his cash and the platinum credit card too.

James nodded and pushed his empty plate away. “Yeah, tasted good, thanks. Need to finish this project.” He rose from the table with his phone and started to make his way down the hall to his office. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You had a trip to plan. 

You weren’t going to have a girls weekend but you were going to Melbourne. He may have been James’ friend first, but no one had the ability to turn a bad day (or year) around like Daniel could. 

When you arrived in Perth you hadn’t expected Danny to be the one personally waiting at the airport. It was impossible to miss him with the amount of people that surrounded him, asking for pictures and autographs before he spotted you stepping out of customs. 

You didn’t need to read lips to see him apologising to everyone as he made his way towards you, holding up a large welcome sign for ‘Roo’. You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you after one drunken night that ended with you tangled in a hammock, your head poking out of the material like a joey in a kangaroo pouch. You were only grateful he hadn’t nicknamed you Joey since the name had stuck over the years.

Your greeting turned to a peal of laughter as he dropped the sign and swept you into a hug that lifted your feet off the ground to spin you around. 

“I’ve missed you, you beaut!” Danny’s smile was contagious and even when your feet were securely back on the ground he still kept his arms around you. “A shame James can’t come, but we can totally make his jealous as fuck for ditching us. One week, you, me, road trip to Melbourne.”

Day One - Perth to Kalgoorlie “I hope you know where we are going.”

Daniel laughed and just winked from the driver's seat of his Ford Ranger. It had been three hours of driving on the highway and you had not passed one town in the dusty landscape. 

“It’s not far, just down the road a little more,” Danny said for the third time. “We still have half a tank of gas and a crate of Vitamin B, we’ll be fine if we need to camp.”

You quirked an eyebrow up as you looked in the backseat and saw the green box of Victoria Bitter beer strapped with a seatbelt.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to camp anywhere,” you scoffed, tucking your knee up as the song changed to another country song from his endless playlist. “Spiders, snakes, dingoes, and your snoring. I think not.”

Daniel laughed and indicated to pull off the road despite there not being another soul within what felt like hundreds of kilometres. 

“I’m sorry I said you snore, please don’t leave me here.”

His laugh only intensified as he turned the engine off and turned to face you. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Roo.”

“Then why have you stopped?” You tested the window but it had powered off with the engine. “It’s a freaking sauna in here.”

“Because you haven’t been yourself all day and there’s no cell reception out here so there’s nothing to distract you.” He took the useless device from your hand and tossed it in the glove compartment. “What’s going on with you and James?”

“Nothing,” you muttered as his brown eyes narrowed. “Seriously, there’s nothing going on with him. We hardly speak anymore and he sleeps in his office when he’s not out of town on another ‘business trip’. It’s just…nothing.”

Daniel’s brows pinched together in confusion as he sucked a lungful of air through his teeth. “But…what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” you exclaimed as you threw your hands in the air, just as clueless. “What do you want me to say? That he’s having an affair, or that one day he just stopped caring, or both?”

You turned away as it wasn’t a bead of sweat that rolled down your cheek when you sighed in defeat. Unable to withstand the heat without the air conditioner, you tugged the door handle and checked the dirt for any unwanted animals before jumping down from the running boards. 

Daniel was already getting out his side and circling the bullbars before you could wipe the tears away but the sob you had tried to suppress clawed its way out when he pulled you against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly as he rubbed your back and let your tears soak into his shirt. “He can be a bit of a cunt, but I never thought he could do that to you.”

“He did and it’s done,” you admitted with a raspy voice that was still strained from the emotion choking each word. “I moved my stuff out last week, not that he even noticed. I thought I could have a break to get away from it all and deal with a divorce when I get back.”

“That fucking idiot,” Daniel said as he pulled his shirt up to wipe your tears away. “He just lost the best thing in the world and he doesn’t even know it.”

Day Two - Kalgoorlie to Caiguna It was another long day of driving but after the broken sleep spent tossing and turning you weren’t much of a companion. You had eventually drifted off to sleep to the country music that Daniel loved so much and dreamt of crawling through fields of watermelons but the paddock soon turned to mud and you sank under the suffocating weight with it filling your lungs. 

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Danny soothed as you startled awake, his quick reflexes throwing his arm out to catch you from hitting the window. You could still feel the filthy fluid on your skin and shivered as you changed the song over and took a shuddering breath. “Bad dream?”

You rolled your shoulders and twisted your stiff neck, groaning at the crick that had come from using the seatbelt as a pillow. “Just weird.”

His eyes darted away from the endless road ahead and saw you trying to massage your neck before he brushed your hand aside. There certainly were perks to his strength training because his fingers were a godsend as they erased the knots that had formed.

“Hmmm, thank you,” you sighed deeply and his lips tipped up at the sound.

“Anytime. Hope you got the rest you needed, there’s a stop ahead and these guys know how to throw down.”

You narrowed your eyes at the horizon that was blurred by heatwaves and tried to see what lay beyond but gave up after a few seconds. “Throw down what?”

“Huh?”

“What are they throwing down?”

“Throw down,” he said slowly as if it would somehow make you understand but you were still confused. “Party, drink, dance. Throw down.”

“Oh, throw down, why didn’t you just say that?”

He laughed at your sarcasm and squeezed your knee. “You could definitely do with a drink or two and loosen up. Then I can get my old Roo back.”

“As long as I’m not expected to sleep in a hammock again.”

The motel was a little rough and run down but it had four walls and the bathroom was clean enough to last one night. Daniel had barely given you enough time to get changed into fresh clothes before he was knocking on your door ready to escort you next door to the bar. Coincidentally, the bar was also the restaurant, service station and grocery store all rolled into one.

You and Danny were by far the youngest people in the place but it didn’t stop the warm welcome from everyone. If any of the patrons knew who he was they hid it well because they treated him just like any other stranger passing through.

“Where ya from?”

“Where ya headed?”

“Watch out for ol’ Deloris, she’ll try take a bite out of ya.”

The questions came in quick succession and you looked around the room trying to figure out which of the ladies was Deloris only to find the name on a plaque beneath a huge crocodile head suspended from the rafters.

“Fuck me,” you gasped as you took a step back, bumping into Danny as he laughed along with the bartender.

“Gets ‘em every time,” he chuckled as he placed two large bottles of beer onto the well worn bartop. “Looks like ya sheila could use something a little stronger.”

Daniel’s large hands landed on your shoulders and started to massage the tense muscles. “There’s no crocs ‘round here, isn’t enough water,” he whispered to calm your nerves. “Deloris was probably a pet.”

“Who in their right mind would keep that as a pet?”

“Probably someone not in their right mind.” His warm laugh tickled your ear before he turned you back to the bartender to grab your drink. “Cheers.”

Daniel found a small table in the surprisingly busy restaurant space and it appeared as if most of the locals were keeping the economy running in the place. It was strange to think that the faded walls decorated with old photographs of the glory days gone by felt more homely than the one you had built with James.

You could easily see yourself placing a coin on the pool table to save your place in the queue or ordering the fresh market fish off the menu without questioning how it was fresh so far from the sea. You could see yourself walking in to see the same faces at the end of a long week and the barman would listen to your complaints as he poured your usual without needing to be asked.

You took a generous gulp of beer that Daniel swore was ‘the good stuff’ and hummed at the hoppy flavour as it quenched the thirst that hadn’t stopped since you stepped foot in the country. It was no wonder why they liked their beers so much, they needed whatever they could to cool their bodies down.

“I like this place,” you said with a smile that Danny returned with pride.

“Thought you might, and tomorrow’ll be even better.”

“Where are we going tomorrow?”

Daniel shook his head and occupied his lips with the bottle so he could keep you in the dark a little longer. You didn’t mind this type of surprise, knowing he wanted to make you smile and was planning everything could to make that happen on the road trip.

The doldrum tune that was playing from the corner of the bar was interrupted as a coin was slotted into the jukebox and Josh Turner’s Your Man came on the machine. Couples around the bar and restaurant left their belongings and made their way to the dance floor. Where you came from no one would do that, and if they did their belongings wouldn’t be there when they returned.

Beneath the table you could feel Daniel’s foot tapping in time to the beat and his fingers drummed on the long neck he lifted to his lips. He caught the longing in your eyes as you watched a grey haired man holding his wife, slowly swaying together like you had imagined you would with James in 40 years.

“Come on, Roo,” he invited as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. His palm was cold and damp from the beer bottle but it was refreshing on your skin with the heat that still lingered with the setting sun. Leading you to the edge of the dance floor he pulled you close and curled an arm around your waist as he started to sing along. “I've been thinking 'bout this all day long, never felt a feeling quite this strong, I can't believe how much it turns me on, just to be your man. I know you know the words, don’t be shy.”

It was impossible to feel embarrassed with him, even if you butchered the song he would still smile like he was listening to his favourite artist live. So, you placed your hand in his and the other rested on his shoulder as you started to sway and sing along.

“There's no hurry, don't you worry, we can take our time. Come a little closer, let's go over, what I had in mind.”

Daniel let go of you and your head fell back with a laugh as he spun you away and pulled you back. You could only giggle as you returned out of step and ended with your back to his chest instead of face to face but he adapted quickly and held your waist instead.

“Baby lock the door and turn the lights down low,” his voice was deep and rich in your ear, intimate and full of promise that hit you unexpectedly. “And put some music on that's soft and slow. Baby we ain't got no place to go, I hope you understand.”

You were glad you weren’t facing him as his words affected you in a way you couldn’t remember feeling for over a year. The very air seemed to thicken in your lungs as you felt every inch of his body fitting against yours. You could feel the veins on his hands as you laced your fingers with his and guided them down to your hips.

This was the first time the lines had blurred throughout the years of friendship and you allowed yourself to feel wanted, if only for a song.

Day Three - Caiguna to Yalata The pounding in your head turned out to be banging on your door and you somehow found the strength to answer it. Bright sunlight flooded in through the crack and you groaned as you covered your eyes.

“Good morning sunshine,” Daniel greeted brightly as he stepped inside. “It’s 7am on another stunning day here in Straya.” 

You playfully shoved Danny and he rolled with it to splay across your bed, the blankets still tucked in from collapsing atop them last night. 

“7am is too early,” you complained as you climbed into the small space he left on the twin sized bed, curling onto your side and throwing your arm over your face to block out the light. “Let me sleep.”

“You can sleep in the car.” His fingers danced teasingly over your ribs and you jutted your elbow back into his hard abs before he could properly tickle you. “Ouch, you’re not very nice in the morning.”

“This isn’t morning, this is still night,” you grumbled as his arm draped over your waist instead.

“The sun is up.”

“Tell that to the people of Norway. It can be sunny at midnight there.”

You could feel him silently laughing at you as it shook the bed. “But we aren’t in Norway.”

“Shh,” you murmured as you snuggled closer to him. “Let me go back to sleep.”

“Fine,” he conceded, making some adjustments to the pillow before shoving his arm under your head, “but just because I’m comfortable now.”

The hangover was gone by the time you woke naturally and you felt refreshed as you stretched lazily. Rolling over in Daniel’s arms you found his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly with soft snores. You raised your head a little to see the alarm clock that was probably considered vintage in the 80’s and saw it was well past check out time. Luckily it didn't appear that the No Vacancy sign was ever used, so there was no rush to leave.

The small movement was enough to wake him and your stomach clenched at the smile that brightened your day more than the blistering sun outside when his honey brown eyes opened. 

“I can’t believe this,” you tutted as you let him pull you closer against his chest. “I was ready to go at 7 and you just went back to sleep…so lazy.”

“How rude of me,” he chuckled. “I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Woah,” you whispered breathlessly as the truck bounced to a stop on the hard sand of the tidal line. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it just,” Daniel grinned as he opened his door and looked across at you. “Coming in?”

You bit your lip as your eyes feasted on the picturesque scene. Big barrel waves crashing out in the bay and white sand welcoming bare feet on the shore, it was a sight pretty enough to make angels cry. Hopping out, you rounded the four wheel drive ute and sat on the metal bar running across the front, distracted by the breathtaking view. “What about sharks?”

Daniel’s door shut and you turned to the sound in time to see him pulling his singlet over his head and tossing it through the backseat window before unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans off too. It was impossible not to stare at the hard planes of his chest or the definition of his abs, and then the thick thighs that were barely covered by his boxers. 

“The chances of a shark attack are less than…” His words trailed off as he looked up and caught you blatantly staring, his teeth sparkling as a big smile grew on his face. “The view is spectacular, am I right or am I right?”

“You or the beach?”

“Spectacular is pretty high in the standards of compliments,” he said as he started to flex his arms, “but if you think I’m spectacular then I would accept that.”

You closed your eyes from the harsh sunlight and tipped your head back to feel the rays on your cheeks as you laughed. “You’ve never had to worry about your ego, have you?”

He sent you a playful pout as he walked towards you, his thongs flicking up golden sand behind him with each step. “It would take a hit if you didn’t come swim with me.”

You hadn’t realised quite how many types of heat there was until that moment. There was the heat of the bonnet from hours of driving beneath you, the heat of the sun in the sky above and the heat of his hands that landed on your knees. It was the heat of his hands that seeped into your blood and spread throughout your body, increasing to boiling point as they slowly ran up your thighs.

Your knees unconsciously parted for him and he stepped into the space so you were eye to eye and his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “There’s nets out past the reef, you’ll be safe with me.”

You took a sharp intake of air as his fingers caught the hem of your shirt and his knuckles grazed your skin. “Well?” he asked quietly. “Trust me?”

You swallowed deeply as you nodded and he rewarded you with another of those smiles you had come to love before he lifted your shirt up and left it on the hood of the truck so he could grab you around the waist and haul you over his shoulder.

“Daniel!” you yelped as the world was suddenly upside down and he kicked his thongs off before jogging towards the water. “Don’t you dare dunk me.”

You expected the next sudden shift when the water reached his knees but as quick as he tossed you up off his shoulder he caught you again with a booming laugh. His arms were bound around your thighs and your hands planted on his shoulders as you looked down at his amused face. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” he promised as he eased his grip, your body sliding down his until you were once more eye to eye. “I just want to make you smile.”

Day Four - Yalata to Port Lincoln  As much as you had found yourself enjoying the historical rich motels in the outback, you were just as happy to find the accommodation in Port Lincoln was a five star resort on the waterfront. The sun was just starting to set when you arrived at the hotel and checked into the two bedroom suite with a gorgeous view of the harbour. 

“I never knew driving could be so exhausting,” you said as you dropped into the swing chair on the large balcony. 

“Don’t worry, tomorrow’s a rest day so you can recover from all that driving you didn’t even do,” Daniel pointed out with a smirk, taking the spot beside you and taking over the leg exercise of swinging it back and forth. “We can do whatever you want, just can’t miss the boat to Adelaide tomorrow night.”

It was nice spending so much time alone with Daniel on the road, comfortable conversations rolling like the tires on the highway, but a change of pace would be welcomed. “What is there to do?”

“Hmm,” he frowned and stood up. “Let me go see.”

Daniel disappeared out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a stack of brochures that he had taken from the tourist stands in reception and you met him on the couch inside where the pleasant offshore wind couldn’t whip them away. Together you flicked through them, separating them into three piles of yes, no and maybe. 

“Sure you don’t wanna cage dive?” he teased as you threw that particular brochure across the room. “You could get up close and personal with a Great White. Once in a lifetime opportunity right there.”

You snorted and shook your head. “Once in a lifetime because it would kill me. Not happening.”

“Here, that’s a yes for you.” 

You took the advert for a farm park where you could hand feed the animals and added it to the yes pile. “Maybe next year we can go to your farm…unless James gets you in the divorce.” Your lips turned down at the idea and you realised you had hardly thought of your husband, but now that you had he had disturbed your peace even though he was thousands of miles away.

Daniel reached over the coffee table to the stationary set, grabbing a hotel engraved pen before pulling his shoe off. “It’s just like Toy Story,” he said as he waved the pen in your face. “Put your name on me first.”

You managed a small laugh as you took the pen and clicked the nib out. “Should tattoo it so it doesn’t wash off.”

Daniel squirmed on the couch as the pen tickled his foot and you grabbed his ankle so he couldn’t move too much but he started to giggle uncontrollably as the nib ran over his instep. “How long does it take to write Roo?”

You laughed and kept going before he wretched his foot free and crossed his leg over his knee to see your full first and last name on it - maiden name, not married.

“For legal purposes,” you said as you clicked the pen nib away and tossed it on the table.

“Fair enough.” He grinned at the writing everytime he looked at his crossed leg and draped his arm over the back of the cushion as you returned to the seat. “You can come by the farm anytime, don’t have to wait for next year.”

“Except for shearing season,” you smirked as you remembered that mistake where you were roped into helping the jackaroos round the sheep up and shave them. “I have no interest in losing all feeling in my arms again.”

“Earned that beer though,” he said with a chuckle as he started to massage your neck. “I was so proud, you weren’t afraid to get stuck in and help. I kinda thought you were a bit of a princess ‘til then.”

Your nose crinkled at the endearment James used to call you. “Well I’m glad I got rid of that image. But, out of curiosity, what do you think I am now?”

The smile could only be described as devilish as his hand spread across your nape and guided you closer to him. His eyes held you captivated and his lips parted with his answer but it was silenced by the sound of ringtone breaking the tension and like a puppet whose strings were cut he fell back into his seat. The emotion in his eyes was erased with a blink and you reached blindly for your phone, answering the call without needing to see who it was from.

“Hey, isn’t it like midnight?” you asked as you lifted the device to your ear but there was no answer at the other end. “Hello? James?”

“Fuck, yeah, just like that baby. God, Laura, you’re so perfect.” The phone slipped from your grasp as you heard the muted but unmistakable sound of James’ voice.

Daniel frowned as he picked the phone up from your lap and lifted it to his ear, shock registering before it transformed into anger and he hung up the phone without breaking the screen with the force of it. He discarded the phone and pulled you into his lap in the same instance but you didn’t hear what he said as you buried your face in his neck and grappled onto him for dear life.

Day Five - Port Lincoln to Adelaide You didn’t feel like doing anything other than staying in bed and sleeping the day away but Daniel wouldn’t let you waste another minute of your time because of James. In a way you could understand the logic and as a big ‘fuck you’ to him you were going to get your shit together and go and have fun.

Daniel worked even harder to get a smile or a laugh out of you and kept his camera on hand to capture the moments he succeeded. The animal farm did make you feel a little better and holding a joey as you bottle fed it was finally enough to break through the invasive cloud that had hung over you. 

“Roo and Roo Two,” Danny commented as he moved around taking a million shots of you.

“Need a hand?” a passing couple offered after watching Daniel try and extend his arm enough to get in the shot too.

“That’d be a dream,” Daniel nodded and he handed his camera over before sitting down beside you and curling his arm around your waist. The joey was almost asleep from drinking all of the milk and Daniel grinned at you as he stroked its neck. “Looks like you when you sleep.”

You grinned back, forgetting about the camera. “Cute, right?”

“Yup, that’s, uh, exactly what I was thinking.” He cleared his throat and scratched his neck awkwardly before laughing when your elbow connected with his ribs. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You’re a cutie-tootie when you sleep…it’s another story when you’re awake.”

His laugh was loud enough to wake the joey when you nudged him again with an offended look. “What? You’re beautiful when you’re awake.”

“That’s totally what you meant,” you said sarcastically before rolling your eyes. “Just look at the camera and smile like a normal person.”

He tipped his head to yours and smiled brightly for the camera, but he couldn’t resist whispering, “Bold of you to assume I know how to be normal.”

Day Six - Adelaide to Portland It took a moment to recollect the events from the night before and it wasn’t because of the many wine tastings you had gone to around the Port Lincoln area. Perhaps that had a little bit to do with it, but mostly it was because you had fallen asleep in the truck to the gentle rocking motion of the ferry but now you were tucked into an unfamiliar bed. 

“Danny?” you called out as you tossed the covers back and found you were still in yesterday's clothes. You could hear some sounds outside of the room but Daniel hadn't answered your call so you picked up the coat rack from the corner and quickly opened the door.

“Jesus Christ.” Daniel jumped back as you waved the long pole his way. “What the fuck?”

You sagged in the doorway and dropped the makeshift weapon to clutch your chest. “You gave me a fright.”

“I gave you a fright?” he asked incredulously. “You gave me a fucking heart attack. What were you going to do with this?” He swiped the coat rack off the floor and couldn’t stop himself from laughing at it. “Please don’t give me a concussion before the race.”

“But any other time is good?” you quipped as your lips tipped up now that your heart rate was returning to normal. “How did I get to bed?”

He flexed his arms with a cocky grin. “I tried to wake you up but you were dead to the world. And now that sleeping beauty is awake, how about we go out for breakfast? There’s meant to be a huge market that sells a bit of everything that we could check out after.”

You held a finger up as you looked down at your clothes and heard your stomach rumble, answering the question of whether to shower or not first. “Just give me one minute to change.”

Daniel had obviously been awake for a while being an early bird so he was ready and waiting at the door when you reappeared, his hand held out and waiting for yours. The lines between friendship and more were getting blurrier each day but it no longer felt wrong as you laced your fingers with his and stepped outside.

“Are you limping?” you asked with a frown as he kept his weight on one side the entire walk to the market.

“No, just got pins and needles in my foot.”

An hour later he was still favouring his right foot so you steered him back towards the hotel so he didn’t make it worse before you got to Melbourne. “You should probably see a doctor.”

Daniel dropped onto the couch and stole the remote to choose a movie, patting the space beside him so he could kiss your temple after joining him. “You worry too much, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re quiet,” Daniel commented as he turned off the tv. “What’s got you thinking so loud?”

You chewed your bottom lip as he called you out. He was too observant, or you were too easy to read. “It’s our last night together.”

“You’re still going to stay with me for the weekend, right?” He shifted in his seat to face you and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand as he waited for an answer.

You nodded and he relaxed a little only to freeze as you spoke, “But you’ll be busy, we don’t have time to hang out.”

“I’ll always make time for you,” he promised as he pulled you into his lap. “This week with you has been…spectacular.”

“Spectacular is pretty high in the standards of compliments,” you reminded him, much to his amusement.

His smile softened as his fingers trailed along your jaw and down your neck to trace your collarbone. “Which is why it’s reserved for very, very good things.” 

You were almost certain he could hear your heart racing like thunderous hoof beats in a quiet desert. The blood was pumping around your body carrying the oxygen you needed to replace but couldn’t seem to draw the air into your lungs as he leaned forward.

“You were his best man,” you whispered with the last of your breath as you felt the heat of his lips so close to yours.

“But I’ve always been the best man for you.”

The first kiss was softer than the wind, tentative and testing as you learned how your body responded to the caress before hunger yearned for something deeper. A deep moan rumbled from Daniel’s chest as your tongue rolled across his lips that parted for you and his arms encircled you to hold you tight, as if he were clinging to the spell so it couldn’t be broken.

“Please, Danny,” you sighed longingly as his hands slipped under the summer dress you wore and his thumbs teased you with painfully slow circles on your thighs. “You have never been a patient man, don’t start now.”

His quiet laugh heated the skin of your neck that he kissed with such tenderness you wanted to cry. It had been so long since you had been touched in such a way that you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please,” you begged as you rolled your hips over his cock that was straining against his shorts. You moaned as the hard length brushed over your panties and a reciprocal sound came from Daniel before he stood up abruptly. 

“Fuck, I wanted to take my time with you,” he murmured against your lips as he blindly walked to the closest bedroom. 

“Later,” you promised. “Right now I need you to get me out of this goddamn dress and fuck me.”

Day Seven - Portland to Melbourne “Oh, fuck off,” you growled as your phone rang on the bedside drawers. You rolled back into Daniel’s embrace and wrapped your arms around his waist as he saw at the voicemail notification before it started to ring again. 

“He’s just going to keep calling,” Daniel said with a sigh that turned to a yawn after the late night spent getting to know each other's bodies intimately. “You’ll have to talk to him at some point.”

“I know, I just want to savour this moment before the drama starts. I can’t remember the last time I woke up like this, happy and content. I’m not ready for that to end.”

“What makes you think I’ll let this end?” he teased as he rolled you onto your back and trailed wet kisses down your neck. “I might just write my name on your foot too and call you mine.”

The warmth of the blankets disappeared as Daniel made his way down your body, kissing the entire length of you before settling between your legs as the phone rang again.

“Answer it,” Daniel ordered as his fingertips delicately traced the stretch marks across your hips, committing every inch of your body to his memory. “Or he won’t go away.”

You tried to find any hint of resentment in his face as you reached for the phone but there was only an air of smugness as he made himself comfortable, resting his head on your thigh.

“I think we have been robbed,” James said without even a hello as you answered the call on speakerphone. “Everything in the guest room is gone.”

A huff of amusement bubbled at the image of him standing in the empty room, his face crumpled in confusion as he scratched his head. “It’s at my apartment.”

“What apartment? What are you on about?”

“The apartment I rented before I moved out two weeks ago. The one I will be living in when I get back.” Daniel’s fingers traced the waistband of your panties and your breath hitched as they slipped beneath the lace.

“Bullshit,” he laughed but there was a hint of uncertainty in the sound. “Just come home and talk about this before you make any rash decisions. I know I have been busy with work lately-"

“More like busy with Laura.” The air that hissed between your teeth could have been mistaken for anger but it was entirely from the devilish look in Daniel’s eyes as he bit the soft skin along your inner thigh.

“Laura’s my assistant.”

The laugh turned to a gasp as Daniel pushed the lace aside and ran his tongue through your folds, his eyes rolling up to watch your reaction, the phone falling from your hand as you reached for his hair.  You tugged the strands as his tongue circled your clit and you couldn’t stop the moan from escaping as you arched your back at the growing pleasure.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that baby,” you begged shamelessly and he chuckled as he felt your walls flutter around the fingers he curled into your cunt. “God, Daniel, you’re so perfect.”

A round of expletives filled the air as James heard a real orgasm take over your body but they fell silent as he realised why the words seemed so familiar. You weren’t just accusing him of fucking Laura, you knew. And you were using his best friend to show him.

“Some friend you are, sack of shit,” James growled as you whimpered with the aftershocks of the orgasm.

“Some husband you were,” Daniel snickered as he tore your panties off and climbed up your body to kiss you, sharing the taste of your pleasure on his tongue before he picked up the phone. “You lost the best thing you had, mate. I won’t make the same mistake you did.”

Daniel ended the call stared down at you in wonder as a slow smile started to spread across his face. “I don’t think he will be calling back.”

It may have been the high of the orgasm, or it could have been the knowledge that after a year of enduring the decaying marriage, but you were free - either way, you were giddy with joy as you wrapped your legs around Daniel’s hips and pulled him closer. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” you giggled as you hooked your fingers into his boxers and pushed them over his hips. 

“He had to know who you belong to now, he had his chance.” His voice was pure decadence in your ear as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds before stretching you wide as he thrust forward and stilled. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size and brushed a gentle kiss across your lips before captivating you with his golden brown eyes. “Still want to know what I think you are?”

Your fingers ran softly down his back, feeling each bump on his spine right down to the twin dimples at the base. “Tell me,” you whispered as your hands grasped the firm muscles of his ass, your nails digging in to spur him into moving.

“Mine.”

Melbourne Grand Prix - Race Day The screams of Daniel’s home crowd were intoxicating and you couldn’t help cupping your hands around your mouth and joining in as he parked front and centre of the pitlane having won his home race. Climbing out of the car, stood atop the halo and threw his fists in the air before tearing his helmet off and holding it up too, tapping his finger on the large number 3.

You couldn’t help but notice how he still favoured his right foot after he jumped off the car and rushed towards his team, grappling them into strong hugs that probably crushed the air out of their lungs - not that they cared as they ran on adrenaline after the race.

“Wow, Daniel, what a race! You were absolutely flying!” the interviewer praised after he took his microphone and joined her in front of the Sky Sports camera. “Looking at some of those high speed corners, it looked like you were fighting to keep the race line.”

“I couldn’t brake hard if I tried,” he laughed and combed his sweaty hair back through his fingers. “Got a fresh tattoo and it’s still a little tender.”

“On your foot?” Naomi asked as she pointed to his Red Bull boot. 

“Yeah, glad it wasn’t on my throttle one or I don’t think I’d be up here,” he joked.

“I’m certain I am asking on behalf of everyone when I say, can we see it?” A cheer from the crowd confirmed her statement and your fingers gripped the metal barrier as goosebumps broke over your skin.

“No way,” you mumbled under your breath as you shook your head to get rid of the ridiculous thought you had.

“Sure, I’ll need this off for my shoey anyway,” he said as he pulled the boot off along with his sock. Turning around, he bent his knee so the sole of his foot could be seen and looked over his shoulder, grinning as he found you at the barrier with his team. 

“Aww, look at that, it’s adorable,” Naomi gushed as she saw the basic outline of a kangaroo on the sole of his foot. “What a way to pay homage to your nation!”

You bit your lip from smiling too hard when he started to laugh as she completely misunderstood what the picture meant. “Of course!” 

He excused himself quickly and hopped towards you, not wanting to get the days old tattoo dirty on the ground. 

“You’re actually insane,” you gasped as you slapped his chest playfully, still in disbelief that he had the word Roo tattooed on his foot beneath the picture. 

He leaned in closer so he could talk without fear of being overheard and you inhaled the purely masculine scent of him enveloping you as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “It was your idea, and if you didn’t sleep so much you would have been awake to come and get it done with me.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as his hot hands came to rest on top of yours. “I must admit, I’m a little disappointed that it isn’t my full name.”

“Do you know how ticklish that was? I would have wet myself trying to get your whole name.”

You smirked at him, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening with his growing smile. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Does anyone have a marker pen?” Daniel asked loudly and about half a dozen were thrust his way in an instant. 

“What are you doing?” you asked as you took a step back but the crowd was so tightly packed there was nowhere to go.

“Foot,” he said as he tapped the barrier, “up. It’s not a tattoo…yet.”

“You’re insane,” you laughed as you shook your head but instead he dropped to his knees and caught your ankle under the barrier.

“And you’re mine, I just need to…stop wriggling,” he complained as he pulled your shoe off and bit the cap off the marker before inking your sole. Twisting your foot about you saw his driver number covering the skin and bit your lip at the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he flipped the pen in his hand. “There, that’s better.”

“Is it?” you joked as you slipped your shoe back on. “I would have said spectacular.”

You were always surprised that his smile could somehow brighten, even when it seemed like it couldn’t possibly grow any more. But his smile grew as stepped closer and his hand reached for the back of your neck, pulling you to meet him as much as the barrier allowed.

“Spectacular?” he echoed before crushing his lips to yours until you were breathless and forgot where you were. “Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Daniel's Road Trip Playlist: Cruise - Florida Georgia Line Watermelon Crawl - Tracy Byrd Your Man - Josh Turner You Make It Easy - Jason Aldean Right Now the Best - Zach Bryan Over For You - Morgan Evans Live Like You Were Dying - Tim McGraw Die A Happy Man - Thomas Rhett Butterflies - Kacey Musgraves

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[tetsurousharlot]

Hi Onyx! I just finished Long Live and oh my goodness gracious it was sooo beautiful! I was tearing up while reading this, from the fluffy moments to the heartbreaking ones 🥺🥺 This fic really warms my heart it was so sweet! 💕

🥺 thank you so much for reading! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Long Live is very near and dear to my heart so I'm very happy it's being enjoyed. 💕💕

[lolabangtan]

01 | shoplifter

Someone’s mistake can become someone else’s misery, or at least that’s what handsome tycoon Kim Taehyung thinks when his secretary gets caught shoplifting.

index • next

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: alcohol consumption.

A/N: here’s the deal: you don’t ask my what happened to my other WIP and I keep updating this fic, k?

“I just… can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, it’s like… something out of a soap opera. Is that— is that a—?”

Three pairs of eyes are glued to the screen, glowing with the light. Nayeon blinks, still confused and totally astonished at the scene unfolding before her; it really is beyond belief – or, at least, beyond hers.

Silence kicks in, and they continue to watch Mr Kang, who is about to no longer be Kim Taehyung’s secretary, as he takes an anti-wrinkle cream jar. That’s when Jimin finally loses it, bursting out in laughter despite Nayeon and Taehyung’s disapproving glances, and having even to lean on his arm so as not to fall off the chair he’s sitting in.

“It’s not funny— God, you too?” Noticing the other man is trying to hold his laugh too, she starts cackling up. “You better send for him now.”

“Will you fire him?” Jimin asks, finally calming down.

Taehyung fiddles with the edge of his glass of water, thinking. “I’ll have to, I can’t let Mr Kang stay… Besides, if it leaks out, we’ll get into some real trouble. I’ll hit HR up to see what we can do. Nayeon, could you do that for me? We have a meeting now.”

“Sure,” she murmurs. “Won’t you two eat something, though? It’s past lunchtime.”

‘We’ll have a bite later’, they say, knowing perfectly well they’ll just snap the most nutritionally poor piece of food out there and a can of soda. But it’s not her problem, so Nayeon gets up, fetches her things, and says goodbye. Of course, she’s curious to see how those two will manage Mr Kang turning out to be a shoplifter, but she’s even more eager to see how on earth Kim Taehyung finds a secretary in time before his father finds out.

“So…” Jimin walks up to the glass cabinet and stares into the family pictures. “Have you thought about how you’ll replace Kang before Father comes back from Japan?”

At his words, Taehyung only groans and collapses onto the desk, whining like a little boy; of course he hasn’t! He has no idea how to find a replacement in such a short time, and Mr Kang isn’t even fired yet. But he hopes Nayeon will help with that.

“Why don’t you let her deal with it? It’s her job, after all.”

Taehyung sighs. “You know I like to hire my staff personally… It’s best in the long term.”

He stares at his brother in silence, worn out by his constant storm of negatives and dodging answers. Then Jimin looks out the tall windows, to the vast view of Seoul’s morning ruckus. Everything looks so tiny from there, like they’re not even real, just toys pushing around.

“Come on, let’s eat out somewhere nice.” He turns around and grabs his jacket, grinning down at the weeping man. “My treat!”

With a giggle, although still concerned, Taehyung does the same and follows him.

Honestly, there had always been something odd about Kang. He was a hardworking man, sensible and loyal, so it wasn’t exactly a thing about his behaviour or the way he would socialise with his peers. No, actually, Taehyung never thought of him as unhinged, quite the contrary – Mr Kang had always been far too restrained. Of course, one’s flaws always have to leak out from somewhere. Pity that, for him, it would be by shoplifting.

Oh, the world is a weird place.

Mr Kang raises from his chair and bows to him as the two of them walk out of the office, and Taehyung tries to act as normal as possible. Can’t let him suspect a thing, can he?

They walk down the busy hall until they reach the lifts.

“My question is,” Jimin says as soon as the door closes, “where the fuck did you get the video from?”

“Namjoon sent it to me, it’s one of their shops in Itaewon,” he murmurs, scrolling down his phone. There’s an endless list of appointments scheduled for his day, even if the day already feels long enough.

Hey, Tae! he had sent. My secretary saw this video the other day, and I asked her to send it to me. Doesn’t he look like Mr Kang? Luckily, he got a hold of that video before it was too late, it hasn’t leaked out to the public yet. If his team plays their cards right, it never will, and he’ll tell his father and the rest of the board that Mr Kang handed in his notice.

It takes them barely fifteen minutes to arrive at the covered tent, following the delicious smell of food. Seeing that it’s pretty much empty, they take a seat and greet the vendor.

“Don’t get too obsessed about it, Nayeon will sort it out,” Jimin says and thanks to the man when he hands out their drinks. “Now, we should focus on finding you a replacement. I’m sure Mrs Kim will help you, and she won’t tell Father.”

“Can you tell Kang to cancel my meeting with Mrs Han on your way back? I’ll drop by at Delta Tower to talk to Namjoon-hyung,” he humbles, eyes fixed on his soda.

“Sure. I’ll look into it too.”

They’re served the food not long after, and Taehyung is ready to dig in while Jimin keeps scrolling down his phone, laughing at some silly tweet, probably. The street is silent except for the drizzling coming from the trunk, so it’s the perfect moment to sulk and wonder why he’s so unlucky.

Something shakes his arm out of a sudden. “Come on, don’t be so defeatist!” Jimin chirps. “You’re acting so weird, it’s not the end of the world!”

“I’m just tired…”

They stare into each other’s eyes for a second, and Taehyung bursts out in laughter, or tears, it’s not clear whether he’s laughing or crying. Both, probably. But he sobs on the metal counter for a bit while Jimin pats his back.

“Why does this have to happen to me?” he whines. “It’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair, Tae.”

He’ll need the biggest self-care session ever when he gets home; hot chocolate, a bubble bath, his comfy pyjamas, and his favourite TV show ever to shut down and get over this awful morning. Hopefully, talking to his cousin will bring some light to it, and at least that way it’ll look like he’s tried to do something to fix it if his father ever finds out. Which he probably will when Mr Kang leaves.

“Wanna go for a game tomorrow morning? It’ll cheer you up,” Jimin says, rubbing his hand up and down his brother’s back.

Taehyung doesn’t sit up. “I don’t know…”

“Come on! Just the two of us, and we could go out for lunch later. Maybe some Italian?”

What if they run into their father at the country club? – it wouldn’t be a surprise to find that Mr Kim decided to go for a game of golf right after landing before even dropping by his house. No, it’s too much risk. Taehyung doesn’t want to fight him yet.

“Um, we’ll see, but I can’t promise you anything,” he replies quietly. “I wish I could just chug down a bottle of soju and go off— but it’d be weird to be drunk at the office.”

“Only when you’re the only one drunk, actually,” Jimin says with a laugh.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but giggles anyways, finding him way too amusing, as always. Honestly, he can always count on Jimin’s bluntness, as shocking as it might come off as sometimes. But he’s sincere, and he appreciates that. They’ve known each other their whole life, that’s true, they’re brothers – but still, it’s good to know that Jimin will always give him a piece of honesty even when his other siblings won’t dare.

His phone buzzes on the counter.

[Wednesday, 2:12 PM] Namjoon-hyung: I’ve got a minute to spare now if you wanna talk.

[Wednesday, 2:12 PM] Namjoon-hyung: come to my office.

“God, look at the time,” Taehyung blurts out.

They’re both practically done with the food, so he rushes to pay and grabs his jacket, promising Jimin he will head back to the office as soon as he’s done talking with Namjoon.

The ride to Delta Tower takes only ten minutes. Taehyung steps out of the cab – with the bitter regret of not having brought his driver with him – and walks into the tall, almost endless building; his friend and senior, Kim Namjoon, has been managing the operations of Delta Enterprises for a few years already, and he’s relatively close to Mr Jeon, the chairman. A mysterious, hardworking, strict man. Taehyung has seen him and his family only once, at a fundraising party – and he was six years old.

As he walks into the vast entrance hall, one of the receptionists recognises him and lets him go through the gates. Then he presses the button and waits for the lift.

His phone vibrates again. Jimin is already talking to the H&R department.

With a ding, the lift doors open, and Taehyung steps in, pressing the floor immediately. Just as they’re closing again, however, he notices a figure running his way, a woman carrying a heavy plastic bag and wearing stiletto heels. As quickly as he can, Taehyung puts his hand in between, and the doors stop before opening again.

You sneak into the lift with a tired sigh.

“Thank you for that,” you let out, still breathing heavily. “I’m in quite a hurry, so I appreciate it.”

“No need.”

He can’t help checking you out; although a bit dishevelled, you look smart, but there’s no identification hanging from your neck, so you can’t be an employee. The bag between your arms is filled with self-care snacks and soju, which isn’t exactly suitable for work.

Also, it could be the new fashion, of course, but why are you wearing sunglasses and a mask indoors?

Honestly, you’re a bit weird.

“Anything wrong, sir?” you ask with a harsh tone, arching an eyebrow. He must have stared for too long. “Can I help you with anything?”

Taehyung looks away. “Uh, which floor are you going to?”

“Ah, yes, sorry— the 39th, top floor,” you let out, a bit embarrassed, but still adamant.

That’s Mr Jeon’s office. Who are you? However, he doesn’t have the time to ask nor wonder because the ding sounds again, and it’s his turn to step out of the lift. Namjoon’s office is a bunch of floors below your destination.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye…”

Maybe he stared at you with a blank face? It’s got him into trouble before, it wouldn’t be the first time. Or perhaps it was because he’s a man. Of course, it surely can’t be comfortable to be trapped in a lift with a man you don’t know and be stared at in silence. God, he was so inconsiderate and rude.

“Oh, good afternoon, Mr Kim.”

“Good afternoon— ah, Jungkookie!” A young man in an elegant suit passing by stops in his tracks when Taehyung speaks up, peeling his eyes off a bunch of papers. “Were you going to see Namjoon-hyung? – see you later, Mrs Lee – because I wanted to talk to him too,” he continues as he lowers his voice.

Jungkook nods as they walk down the corridor. “Yeah, he told me. Sounds ridiculous, hyung! I mean, I’ve seen people get fired for bullying, stealing money, but shoplifting—?” The two of them keep quiet when they pass by an employee, greeting her. “Shoplifting skincare products? Like, do you not pay him or what? Well, whatever, it’s just— it’s just ridiculous.”

“You tell me,” he replies with a whine.

When they reach the door to Namjoon’s office, Taehyung knocks gently until he hears a soft ‘come in’. Namjoon has his back turned to the two of them, keeping himself busy by watering his little bonsai.

“Ah! You got here pretty fast, I thought you’d take longer. Go on, take a seat. Jungkook-ah, are those the reports from the finance department?”

“Yes – I looked through them, everything looks normal,” he murmurs. Normally, Jungkook would be dying to go back to his office and keep playing whatever silly videogame he’s found. However, this time he wants to stay and feed on the gossip, but he has to be invited first. “Do you want to double check them too, hyung?”

Namjoon frowns for a second. “Don’t call me hyung at work, it discredits you.”

“It’s just us, don’t worry,” Taehyung says then with a sly grin. “But Jungkookie can stay if he wants, he already knows about Mr Kang – it just can’t get out of this room.”

It takes Jungkook just a second to let out a squelch of happiness and drag a chair towards the desk before he takes a seat.

You’re staring into the lift door with a blank faze, still thinking about the stranger’s obnoxious staring – really, do people have no manners anymore or are you just too old-fashioned? Anyway, it’s your day off, and it’s pretty hard already not to keep checking your phone in case the office was sieged by zombies or your assistant turned out to be a prosecuted defaulter.

With a ding, the door opens in front of you. You sigh, secure the bag between your arms, and step out.

The hall connects with Mr Jeon’s office by an elegant corridor. You see your reflection walking past the long mirror, and you have to admit, you do look a bit suspicious wearing sunglasses and a mask.

Maybe that hot stranger wasn’t too off-track.

That’s when the muffled sound of Mr Jeon’s screaming voice comes to you. He sounds not pissed off – rageful. You love the man, you really do, he’s known you since you were a little kid— but God, what a temper. And it runs in the family.

“— a spoiled, ungrateful, entitled child who knows absolutely nothing about accountability!”

As you reach the end of the corridor, you walk up to the desk of Mr Jeon’s secretary with a grimace she mimics.

“From one to ten, how bad is it?”

The woman sighs. “He’s more disappointed than mad, but Miss Miyeon is with him right now.” She then looks down at the plastic bag and lets out a soft chuckle when she notices what’s inside. “Did she ask you to come, Ms O? Well, maybe your presence will help. I’ll keep that for you.”

“Oh, thanks, Ms Lee.” You hand her the heavy bag. “I’ll go in, then. Wish me luck.”

You take off the sunglasses and the mask before knocking on the door and opening up, no need to wait for permission. The voices go quiet as you walk into Mr Jeon’s office; they’ve both turned their heads towards the door, and you see Miyeon tearing up, her nose reddened and her cheeks puffy. His father, on the opposite, looks like he’s blushing out of pure anger, but they’re both quiet, thank God, when you greet them.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” he mumbles.

You close the door behind your back. “Hello, Mr Jeon. I came because Miyeon called me… God, what are you two bickering about this time?”

But Miyeon shakes her head in panic. Wrong words. Oh Lord, have mercy.

“Oh, well! Perhaps a responsible adult will understand what I’m trying to get her to see,” Mr Jeon barks. “Miyeon, you just can’t keep running away from your responsibilities! Your brother is younger than you, but he took the lead when you dropped it, and I haven’t heard a word of complaint from him ever since!”

“That’s because Jungkook—!”

But her father raises his finger, and she shuts up, pouting. “You don’t get involved with the company, you don’t go on the dates your mother and I arrange for you, but you keep asking for things, and we keep giving them to you!”

Jeon Miyeon is, in a few words, a human bomb. She’s gorgeous and confident, and you would totally date her if you were into women – as if you could ever handle someone like her. With her hair dyed blonde and her bold makeup, she’s a menace to her parents, especially since she decided she wanted to be an artist and quit her job at the company. That day was probably traumatic for them.

The thing is, despite the clear differences between you and Miyeon, you’ve always got along. In a way, she completes you.

“Look at Y/N, then!” Jeez, Mr Jeon is really fishing for painful comparisons now. “She’s responsible, takes her job seriously, and most importantly – she appreciates Chairwoman O’s efforts!”

Well, actually, you pretty much wasted your childhood in college and later on working for your grandmother, but yeah. You get what he means.

Hesitantly, you raise your hand. “Not to be impertinent, but you have this conversation every two, three months. May I know what triggered it this time?” Because he sounds serious enough to figure out there must be something else this time. “Is it something—?”

“He wants me to attend a meeting tomorrow morning, but I have someone myself to see—”

“Her ‘agent’, if that even means anything,” Mr Jeon cuts her off. “So, I have to tell the board that my eldest child can’t attend because she has to talk about drawings.”

“I don’t even work for you anymore!” she groans.

“Oh, but you still live off my money,” he retorts, crossing his arms. Miyeon goes silent; she knows he’s right, but it takes time to take off in such a world. Why can’t he just be a supportive father and let her be? “I’m just asking you to give something in return since we’re… well, helping you try to make a living out of art.”

Miyeon looks away and mumbles, “You don’t even believe in me.”

With a groan, Mr Jeon walks back to his desk and sits down – or rather slumps into the chair. It’s impossible, he will never get to reason with her, it’s mission impossible. One day, perhaps, when he’s lying on his deathbed, Miyeon will apologise for not seeing it.

“Okay, I’ll give you two options.”

Both you and Miyeon look up, curious and a bit frightened. Suddenly, it feels almost as if she’s about to be offered a deal with the devil.

But if Mr Jeon is the devil, his daughter is Satan. Scary as shit. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“I will leave you alone and never ask you to get involved with the company again, except of course some social duties as family,” he says, “but you’ll have to give back all your cards. And you’ll have to start paying rent at home and share expenses, too—” Miyeon gets up from the chair out of pure shock, eyes wide open and already whining. “The other option is, I’ll get you a job outside Delta which you’ll have to keep for three, four months. If you’re able to do it, then I’ll understand you’re made of tougher stuff.”

“Dad, this is crazy, you’re crazy—” She’s literally at a loss of words, looking around the room and babbling in search of something to say. “You can’t kick me out! Besides, who would I even work for?”

“I’ll see to that, don’t worry. Now, you’re dismissed – I have to talk to Namjoon-ssi and your brother.”

Miyeon is still in shock and doesn’t listen to her father, so you thank him for his time and gently walk her out of the office. You can hear her soft whimpers of desolation; really, she does not have a stable personality. One second, she could drive over you with her confidence, and the next she’s crying like a baby because daddy cut off her money.

When you close the door, Ms Lee gets up with a pitiful smile before handing the plastic bag back to you. You sigh and take it, you know you’ll need it later.

Anyway, you put on your mask and glasses again.

The lift suddenly dings, and the doors open to reveal the sight of Miyeon’s little brother and Kim Namjoon, the company’s COO. The latter looks a bit more abashed at running into you – or rather, at running into her – but Jungkook greets you with one of his bunny smiles.

“Ah, hello, noona— noona, are you okay?” he asks with a frown. Miyeon doesn’t answer. “You look weird… Did dad say anything—?”

“Long story, Kook,” you whisper.

“Ah, okay, gotcha. Sorry.”

After some awkward seconds of silence, the two men continue their way down the corridor, and you get into the lift. You put your hand on her shoulder, and that’s when she starts sobbing, finally alone.

“It’s so unfair!” she groans. “They’re filthy rich, they can absolutely help me with my art! They just don’t want to! They think I’m shit!”

You roll your eyes and push the button. “That’s not true, they love you—”

“Wait!”

Namjoon is running back to you. He sneaks into the lift in time and pushes the button back to his floor, smiling awkwardly at you. With a soft blush, Miyeon wipes off her tears and slyly checks on the screen of her phone that her mascara isn’t smudged, making you try to fight off a smirk.

“I— I forgot my laptop at the office,” he murmurs.

Then he looks at you, but unlike the stranger from earlier, he doesn’t stare. Since you’re a CEO and all, you’ve got into trouble before for visiting Delta Tower often, even if the two families have been friends for decades. So, instead of not dropping by anymore, you decided to hide your identity. You’re not sure how the mask and the sunglasses work with the ‘not raise attention’ concept, but things have been smooth ever since, so nowadays you’re just the weird woman wearing a mask and sunglasses.

During the lift ride, Namjoon thinks of a thousand things to tell her to comfort her, but he doesn’t dare to say anything. Crushing on her boss’ daughter from the distance seems far safer.

“I, uh, get off here,” he murmurs. “I hope you have a nice day?”

“Thanks, I’ll try.”

The doors open, and Namjoon rushes out to pick up his laptop and go back to Mr Jeon’s office.

“Honestly, the working thing doesn’t sound too bad?” you say. And it’s true; just a couple of months working, and she’ll make sure her father doesn’t bug her with that anymore. “I don’t understand why you didn’t immediately accept.”

“It’s just— ugh, I can’t, I need to be somewhere else next month, so I’ll be out of town for a couple of weeks,” Miyeon replies, gritting her teeth.

You frown. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wasn’t sure I was invited until a few days ago! It’s an exposition in Busan, and my agent got me a place to display some of my stuff,” she says. If she wasn’t so devastated, she’d probably look more excited, but you can still sense her happiness even through the misery. “But my dad can’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because he’ll totally use it against me! Can’t you already see it? The more desperate I am, the more he knows he’s got the winning hand. He’s Machiavellian, you know.”

You can’t hold your chuckle. “God, if anyone could hear you—!”

“It’s true!” Miyeon whines, throwing her head back. “You wouldn’t understand, you do everything your grandmother tells you to!” She then watches your blank face in silence and says, “That was unfair, sorry. But you get what I mean.”

“Well, I was lucky enough to enjoy meeting everyone’s expectations,” you murmur.

Speaking of which, you should be back in your office now. Seokjin will be furious if you’re late to the departmental all-hands meeting. Honestly, you’d be a bit more pleased about him if he just stuck to his actual responsibilities rather than going around chastising you, but your grandmother is going too, so you guess you’ll overlook it this time. But just this time.

“I’ll see if Ms Yoo is ready with the car,” you say, handing the plastic bag to your friend. “Enjoy the snacks, and give it a thought, will you?”

Miyeon frowns but still takes it. “Yoo as in Yoo Jeongyeon?”

“Yeah, I re-hired the LAVA model as my assistant. She says driving is her new passion. And she’s pretty good, really – at least she can go over thirty without getting an anxiety attack.”

With a ding, the doors open, and some people try to step in, immediately freezing as soon as they recognise Miyeon. They all bow to their boss’ daughter and claim to wait for the next one. The same thing happens a few floors below until the lift lands on the ground floor, and you step out into the busy hall, where you’re seen off by your friend; she walks away, and you take the lift again to get to the underground car park.

“Good afternoon, boss.” The girl greets you with a soft, polite smile. “Back to the office, right?”

“What’s with this sudden good mood?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as you get into the car, rummaging through your purse to fetch your pocket mirror.

Your lipstick looks just fine. “Oh, nothing, I just got a call from my cousin. She’ll be visiting us next week.”

“Do you need some time off?”

She drives the two of you out into the street. The ride from Yeouido to Gangnam doesn’t take long, and you keep listening to her plans so that you can map the changes and new schedules in your mind. You can always ask your secretary to drive you instead since it should be his job.

Back to reality, you look away from the car window. “How old are your nephews?”

“Oh, my nephew is four, and my niece is just seven months old.”

You nod slowly – you know Jeongyeon’s cousin is your age, so knowing there are people your age having babies feels really weird.

“How old was she when she married?” you insist, practically trying to torture yourself. Really, can’t you keep quiet? It’s none of your business, and every relationship is a whole new world. You don’t even know if her cousin wanted to get married. “If she’s got a four-year-old, she must’ve married very young.”

“Yeah, it was six years ago—! So, I think she was, uh, maybe twenty-two?”

Five years younger than me, Jesus Christ. You know that’s still younger than average, but… it’s better if that information never gets to your grandmother. You’d never hear the end of it.

Jeongyeon chuckles. “But Ranhee got married to her high school sweetheart, so of course they married young.”

You can’t pretend that’s not a relief.

Honestly, you’ve never been against marriage. You wouldn’t mind getting married to a man you love if the situation allowed it. It’s just that, due to your position, you’ve spent your entire youth being shoved at handsome heirs and successful CEOs, going to this and that blind date without even being asked if you actually liked any of them. ‘He’s handsome!’, ‘oh, but he’s so rich’, ‘his family shits gold’ and such, but never ‘hey, Y/N, is he kind? Considerate? Funny? Cute?’. So, you will marry for love and love only – and that’s why you’re totally single.

It’s as infuriating as knowing that you’re a child-breeding, money-inheriting piece of stock for them. An economical transaction – you’ve seen it being done before, and it never ends pretty for either of the ends.

If that’s how it’ll be, then you’d rather go to bed on your own every single night.

“Great results this quarter, you guys deserve to celebrate it.” At your beckoning, Seokjin turns back towards your laptop and presses the next slide. “Now, I know we’ve started many projects lately, especially with the marketing department, so we’ll give it a round-up since we’re all here.”

You make a pause to drink some water, and everyone uses it to grab their notebooks, laptops, or whatever they’re going to use to note your words down.

The meeting goes on for half an hour. You answer their questions and doubts, lay out your plans for each department, and let Seokjin, Yuna, and Joohyun take over for the rest of it. You don’t wanna tire your people out.

“I’m sending Hobi down to the cafeteria,” you murmur, scrolling down your phone. “Anyone wants anything?”

You’re back at your office, where your closest team sits.

“I could use some coffee,” Seokjin says.

With a smile, Hoseok takes note of the orders and gets going. He likes these little trips you send him on to walk around the building, greet people, and maybe even get a break from his bigger responsibilities. You know he’s a great secretary, you just had to learn to work with his personality.

“Is this a respectable company” – startled, you turn around to see an elegant old woman with her arms crossed – “or a fashion show?”

You smile, relieved. “Oh, you know I only hire hot people,” you say then with a chuckle.

Your grandmother walks into the room, nodding at them as a greeting, and Seokjin rises to let her sit down in front of you. It’s weird that she comes to the office to visit you personally, so there must be a reason she’s here.

“You look tired.”

Oh, not this again. “I’m doing perfectly fine… Is everything all right, Granny?”

“Of course,” she says, fumbling with her purse, “why shouldn’t it?” But you arch an eyebrow, and the woman sighs. “I’m entertaining the Jeons and the Kims to dinner tomorrow night, and it would be very nice if you could join us. Your cousins are coming too, Seokjin-ssi.”

“Joonie?”

“And your uncle’s eldest, Taehyung-ssi,” she says.

Apologetically, Jin groans. “Oh, I think my mother told you, but I have a trip to Gwacheon in the morning, and I certainly can’t miss it.”

Mrs O lingers her eyes on him – her draconian, steel-like eyes – until Seokjin almost starts to sweat, but she decides to be merciful and spares him, looking away. Now you are her victim.

Fortunately, Hobi walks in with two coffees in his hands, smiling after getting over the surprise of seeing your grandmother here.

“Ah, Chairwoman O!” he says. “Good afternoon. What brings you here, madam?”

“My neglecting grandchild, as you can see.”

You thank him quietly as he hands you your coffee, and Hoseok strikes again, “Can I bring you anything?”

However, the woman gets up solemnly, closing her eyes and sighing softly. She does know how to make you feel guilty. Then, she nods at the bunch of you again and beckons her secretary to let him know that she’s leaving already.

“I will let them know you can’t make it,” she murmurs, “again.”

You never go to these things, of course. Why would you? No, the question is, why would your grandmother invite to dinner opulent families with unmarried sons? Isn’t that a bit suspicious? Of course, you understand her concerns about having an unmarried granddaughter of your age, but she has to accept that you won’t be guilt-tripped into marriage, let alone get with a guy who’s just got some old money and a mother-crafted personality to answer for himself.

“Do you really have a trip to Gwacheon?” you ask, frowning. Well, if he did, you’d know about it.

Seokjin chuckles proudly. “For your information, I do; I have to babysit my brother’s dog while he and his wife are off to New York.”

“Lucky you!”

“Maybe you should just spare Mrs O for once and attend one of her matchmaking dinners,” Yuna says with a grin. “Who knows? You could meet someone interesting.”

Seokjin scoffs, gulping down his coffee. “If you’re talking about my cousins or Jungkookie, then Chairwoman O should spare her by letting her not come.” Joohyun frowns. “I mean, I love them, but Namjoon is totally in love with a girl from his company, Jungkook wants a torturer rather than a girlfriend, and Taehyung…”

You can’t help chuckling at his words; he’s talking so seriously, if you didn’t know him, you’d think he’s giving you a serious analysis of his family. Of course, you’re sure what he’s saying is true, but you don’t want to believe that Namjoon is in love with someone else when Miyeon is totally smitten.

Yuna looks at him. “What about Taehyung-ssi?”

Your phone buzzes on the desk, and you pick it up, completely disconnecting from the conversation.

[Wednesday, 3:36 PM] Miyeonie<3: I accepted.

[Wednesday, 3:36 PM] Miyeonie<3: what my cruel father proposed.

[Wednesday, 3:37 PM] You: WHAT

[Wednesday, 3:37 PM] You: for real?

[Wednesday, 3:38 PM] You: what is it? He won’t send you somewhere horrible, won’t he?

“Y/N!” Joohyun’s exclamation snaps you out of the chat, and you look up. “The IT department has postponed the meeting until tomorrow.”

You frown. “What? Why?”

“Wendy said they’ve found some issues with the new website, so it has to be fixed first, and then she’ll gather everyone to explain it,” she explains with a tired face. You sigh, leaning back on your chair, and she looks around. “I knew it’d make trouble, but we live in a modern world, I guess.”

“We sure do.”

[Wednesday, 3:43 PM] Miyeonie<3: I’ll use a fake name and work as a secretary at Kim International. Not as bad as I thought it’d be, honestly, but it still ruins my plans for the exhibition.

[Wednesday, 3:43 PM] Miyeonie<3: 😔

“Send for Wendy then, I want a full report on what happened,” you mumble as you check your phone again.

[Wednesday, 3:47 PM] You: you could always refuse and find another job.

[Wednesday, 3:47 PM] You: but then what’d be the point?

[Wednesday, 3:48 PM] Miyeonie<3: exactly 💀

“Good evening, Mrs Go.”

Taehyung walks into the large entrance hall, where the housekeeper takes his coat and sees him to the dining room. His parents and siblings are already sitting at the table, and their eyes get fixed on him as he walks into the smart room.

“You’re late,” his father says, still beckoning him to sit down.

“I got caught up with work,” he murmurs in response, a blank stare on his face. Taehyung then sits down and puts the napkin on his lap. “How was Japan?”

Mrs Kim rushes to intervene. “Let’s not talk about work while we’re eating, shall we?”

“Yes, you’re right, sorry.”

His mother smiles sweetly and serves him some of the food displayed on the table. Meanwhile, the conversation, fortunately, moves to not so stressing topics, such as the weather or his younger brother’s upcoming tests. Dinner at the family house is never any fun, so he guesses this will do for now.

Jimin is not here, he never comes over when Mr Kim is home.

“So, how are your violin lessons going, Eunbin? You could give us a little demonstration after we’ve gone through,” she says with a pleasing smile, gently wiping her mouth with the napkin.

With the background noise of his family’s conversation, Taehyung realises he doesn’t know whether he should join them or munch his food silently. If he doesn’t talk, his father will suspect there’s something wrong. But if he does, and he overdoes it, Mr Kim will notice something is going on with him.

So, he’s pretty much fucked up.

“So, Taehyung” – his father doesn’t even look up from his plate as he calls his name – “your mother said that you’ll be having dinner with Mrs O from Jungsim Enterprises. And Namjoon will be there. Is her granddaughter coming too?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung murmurs.

Mrs Kim laughs, sipping her wine. “Probably not, O Y/N never comes to these things.”

“Then what’s the point?”

He can’t help but sigh and mutter a weak ‘I couldn’t refuse’. Mr Kim then insists that it’s pretty unpolite from Chairwoman O to invite a bunch of unmarried men to her house when you’re not even going to be there, but it also means that it’s a chance to get in the old lady’s good books if he ever needed to. Of course, Taehyung barely remembers your face, so it’s pretty much pointless.

“In that case,” his father continues, “you should let your mother set you up on a date.”

She nods gladly. “Chairman Jeon’s daughter is pretty and smart, and I believe she’s your age,” Mrs Kim continues, now a bit discouraged by her son’s blank face. “Why don’t you try and get to know her?”

Ah, yes, Jeon Miyeon. Not only an heiress-turned-broke artist, but she’s also the love of Namjoon’s life since his twenty-year-old ass landed on Mr Jeon’s office. Huh-uh, no, he’s got better things to do. And judging by the way she came out of his office weeping along with that weird, rude woman with the mask and sunglasses plus expensive stilettos combination, Miss Jeon isn’t on the best terms with daddy, and that’s a thing Taehyung doesn’t want to mess with – he’s got enough daddy issues at home.

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend? He plays the guitar in a band,” his sister chips in. “Or that’s what I heard.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”

Mr Kim looks at them. “Of course it’s not; Jeon would only accept as a son-in-law a man capable of inheriting the company, something Mrs O has forgotten since she thinks any decent man would accept O Y/N without expecting to take on.”

Now, O Y/N… You’re a completely different story. Heiress to the Jungsim Group and CEO of Jungsim Tech Enterprises, you’ve got pretty much anything a woman would want. The fact that you repel any sort of romantic interactions is a good argument to prove it, even if your grandmother insists on setting you up.

Taehyung chuckles. He’s sure none of the guys who claim the strength necessary to be your husband could even handle dating you.

“Do you think what I’m saying is funny, Taehyung?” his father asks with a stern tone.

“Not at all, sir,” he murmurs with a poorly concealed smirk. “I was just wondering… if Miss O would even want a man who asked her to step out. It’s the company of her family, after all, isn’t it?”

But her father doesn’t frown or show any display of annoyance at his teasing words. Instead, Mr Kim smiles, smoothly cutting the steak with his cutlery knife.

“Exactly. If Chairwoman O says she’ll have to marry if she wants to inherit, then the choice is already made, is it not?

And Taehyung knows those words are directed to him too, even more than to you. If he wants to keep his status and power, he must marry. Maybe not now, but at some point; staying away from relationships and burying his heart in work probably won’t please his father for much longer.

“It is, sir.”

By the time you get out of the lift and walk into your flat, you’re totally dead. Exhausted, tired, knackered, whatever – what a long, long day, for God’s sake.

“Jesus Christ—!”

You almost drop your purse, the sight of Miyeon sitting on your couch in silence totally scaring the shit out of you. The TV is playing in the background. With a deep breath, you leave your heels anywhere and walk up to her with a frown.

“What are you doing here—? Are you drunk?” you ask then, grabbing an empty bottle of apple-flavoured soju. “Is this because of your dad?”

Miyeon suddenly lets out a sob. “He totally hates me, Y/N!”

“No, he doesn’t.”

Sighing again, you take a seat next to her.

“But he does,” she mumbles, sniffling. “That’s why he’s trying to ruin my dreams all the time. He’s been so… impossible to deal with since mom divorced him! Honestly, he had it coming. Fucking asshole.” You pat her back, and Miyeon rests her head on your shoulder. “And I made a fool of myself in front of Namjoon-ssi today.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say in an attempt to comfort her. She probably did.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s a cool guy, and cool guys don’t judge people for showing their feelings,” you insist and grab the other bottle of soju. “Isn’t that why you like him? Apart from his humongous tits—”

“Shut up!” she groans, stifling a laugh.

The two of you stay silent, clinging to each other. Your fingers stroke her hair in circular patterns as you stare into the nothingness of your living room, wondering what you could do to help her. You could take her in, but your grandmother will be furious if she ever finds out you’re ‘promoting idleness and the neglect of young people’s responsibilities’. In Chairwoman O’s language, that means you’d be helping her find herself – and God forbid someone does that in your world

“I still want to go,” Miyeon mumbles, “to Busan.”

It’s a big deal, a great chance to prove herself in front of influential people, so you do feel sorry for her. If only there was something you could do, you’d do it immediately.

“I know, I just had an idea!”

Oh, that sounds terribly bad. “What idea? Nothing crazy, I hope?”

“No…! Remember the other day, when you said your grandmother wanted you to take a few days off since you were so stressed?”

“I’m not stressed, I just have a lot of work to do and not enough time,” you grunt, gulping down the soju. It tastes sweet and fruity, and you chug it down like you’re drinking water. “I’m not stressed.”

“You already said that— well, whatever, I came up with a plan, and I want you to listen carefully.”

With a confused face, you sit back up and leave the bottle on the coffee table. You also reach your arm to grab the remote and turn the TV off, suddenly noticing it was loud as shit – what on earth has your looney friend come up with this time? You are scared.

Miyeon turns to you and grabs your hands. “So, you remember that time I travelled with you to Hong Kong? I had to pose as your marketing director because you’d fired her, but Mrs O couldn’t find out…” You arch an eyebrow at her, although you’re pretty sure you know what she’s going to ask you. “I need you to pose as me!”

You’re so puzzled at her proposition that you can only stare at her in silence, eyes wide open. You feel weird all over, like time has stopped.

“What?”

“It’ll be just two months!” she keeps on squeaking, grabbing the fabric of your blouse like a huffing child. “I’ll do anything, please! I’ll let you give out my phone number to creepy guys! Please, please, please—!”

“No way,” you state. “I have a job, a responsibility! I can’t just… ‘disappear’ for two months!”

But Miyeon keeps sobbing. “You’re my last chance, Y/N, please!”

“It can’t be,” you let out, gently pushing her away so that she can look at you. “I’ll look for any other way to help you” – even if the whole deal looks pretty ugly for her – “I promise, but I can’t just go around Kim International pretending to be someone else. What if someone recognises me? What if Mr Jeon finds out? It’ll only make things worse.”

“Worse than this?” she scoffs. “That’s pretty much impossible.”

“You know your father, he’s Machiavellian.”

Miyeon stares at your half-hearted grin and sighs, looking away. She’s too drunk to even cry and beg for your help. Her heart is a rock of ice.

“I see…”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help you; it just is fucking crazy,” you insist.

“Yeah, I totally understand,” she murmurs, still not meeting your eyes. “The last thing I want is to put you in a difficult situation. Ah, it was really crazy,” Miyeon says then with a weak chuckle. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be… I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

“Thanks.”

You get up and head to the kitchen; your housekeeper left everything incredibly tidy before she left for the day, but you still struggle to find the glasses and end up pouring some warm water in a wine glass, too tired to even try it a second time.

“You’ll see how everything looks better in the morning—”

At the sound of Miyeon’s voice, you stop before walking into the large living room; she’s not talking to you, or she wouldn’t sound so formal. She’s also answering questions you can’t hear so, peeking out from the door, you find out she’s on her phone, talking meekly to someone and holding back a rebellious tear.

“I can’t make it,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry, madam, I really am… And I’m thankful for the chance you were willing to— I-I know, I just—”

Stepping back, you cross your arms and lean back against the wall, listening to her pitiful apology. You take a sip from the glass and sigh, eyes glued to your weak reflection on the water.

Miyeon noisily hangs up and buries her face between her hands.

“I was thinking,” you say in a calm tone as you walk in, pretending to have heard nothing – “here’s your water— I was thinking that… uh, okay, I’ll do it. If it’s that important for you, then I think it’s worth a try.”

After blinking a few times, totally shocked, she lets out a shriek of happiness, more similar to a seal’s than a human, and pounces you for a tight, tight hug that practically knocks the air out of your lungs. Miyeon rubs her cheek against yours in gratitude, thanking you with tears in her eyes and a runny nose while her arms keep you plastered against her heated body. You try to fight it off, but she’s too strong – she’s always been. So, you accept your fate and let Miyeon hug you.

There’s no going back now. Let the mission: undercover begin.

Ugh.

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

“LOVE: undercover” is copyright ²⁰²² Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 05

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.6k [5/6]

notes: second to last installment of a fic that didn’t need to be as long as it is!!! really this entire thing can be summed up with last chapter’s warning, which was “reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty.” i stand by it, okay!!! 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: dumb banter, a couple brief smutty bits, oral (f receiving), listen to slow dancing in the dark by joji during the soft smut scene in the middle if u want 

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

“No. No. God, no. Has your music taste always been this bad, or is this a recent development?”

“You will excuse yourself,” you retort sharply, wagging a finger at your brother. “Mr. Brightside is a classic and I will not hear this slander. Please feel free to permanently vacate the premises if you disagree.”

Jimin rolls his eyes from where he’s slouched on the couch beside you, one hand submerged in a bag of chips and his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Really? You wanna go there, Chim?” You raise your hand and begin ticking off on your fingers. “I’m not the one who threw a fit over a piece of cilantro in my taco. I’m not the one who refused to bathe when Mom couldn’t find the right bubble bath.”

“Oh my god, I was eight,” Jimin snorts. “Both times. And cilantro tastes like soap.”

You raise a third finger. “What about the time you hid all the Monopoly money because you kept losing? Or when yo—”

A knock on the door cuts you off mid-sentence, and you nudge Jimin’s shin with your big toe. “Go get the door,” you order, and you aren’t sure if he’s just tired of hearing your voice, but he stands up without complaint and wanders into the entryway to receive your unexpected guest.

“Hey,” you hear him say. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” a very familiar voice replies. “I need some help.”

It’s Jungkook. Of course it’s Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since he dropped you off and kissed you senseless in your driveway, but you’d have to be delusional to think that you could avoid him for the next week and a half before you leave to return to Seoul. And yet, you allowed yourself to indulge in your delusions for two full days, before he tears them apart with ten simple, innocent words.

“So, I think I might have done the laundry wrong.”

Jimin laughs out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s all you, Noona,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you, and you don’t even have wherewithal to lecture him about the sexism of his remark because Jungkook is smirking like he’s just won the lottery and you’re his grand prize.

“Noona?” he begins, his voice syrupy sweet and thick with intent. “Can you come help me?”

You glance down at your pajamas—gray sweatpants and a pink Pusheen t-shirt that’s a couple sizes too big. It’s beyond obvious that you have no plans for the day, and therefore no excuse not to help. Heaving a resigned sigh, you clamber to your feet and roll your eyes when Jimin immediately flops down across the newly abandoned couch and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Have fun,” he calls lazily as you walk out, and you do your best to ignore the wicked grin that flashes across Jungkook’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he says as he lets you pass by him to exit the house. “See you later, Jimin.”

As soon as the front door slams shut, you round on him with a glare. “Are you serious, Jungkook?” you hiss. “He’s totally going to catch on to… to whatever it is we’re doing.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Jungkook chides, clicking his tongue. He hops over the low bushes that divide your property, and waits patiently as you skirt around them. You follow him into his house—down the hallway and into a little side room that houses the washing machine and dryer—and as soon as the door swings shut, he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you close.

“This—this isn’t how you do laundry,” you stammer weakly, winded by his sudden proximity and the dark promise in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I may have lied a little bit. Would you have come if I hadn’t?”

You don’t answer, because you know he’s right. If you had your way, you would have avoided him until it was time for you to leave again. But Jungkook just doesn’t seem to be willing to let that happen, as he tightens his grip on your hips and tugs until you’re flush against him.

“See, the truth of the matter is, I’m actually good at laundry.” He smirks and tilts his head, dark bangs flopping across his forehead. “I’m good at other things, too. Why don’t you let me show you?”

Attraction blooms in your belly, hot as molten lava, and it takes the last ounce of your wavering restraint to say what you say next. “We can’t take too long,” you whisper, letting him hoist you up onto the dryer and jab the start button. The machine rumbles to life beneath you, and you nearly lose your train of thought when the vibrations go straight to your clit. “Jimin!” you gasp. “Jimin—he’ll kill you if he finds out. He’ll fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Why are you talking about your brother? Is this your idea of dirty talk, princess? Because I gotta tell you—it’s not doing it for me.”

“Jungkook!” you chide, and he grins and moves to tug off your shirt.

“That’s much better.”

///

In the days that follow your laundry room tryst with Jungkook, sneaking around becomes routine. Both of your parents work—as do his—so avoiding them is easy. Jimin, however, is a different story. The dance classes he teaches are irregular, and the schedule shifts often enough that you’ve come dangerously close to getting caught on more than one occasion.

And it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook has taken to texting you at all hours of the day, even when you’re eating a sandwich on the couch with Jimin half-sprawled across your lap in his effort to invade your personal space as much as possible.

[12:35pm] Jungkook: hey i just thought of something

[12:35pm] Jungkook: you know how i call you princess?

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Cautiously, you glance at your brother, who is glued to the television and doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

[12:36pm] You: yeah…

His response is instantaneous.

[12:36pm] Jungkook: well i’ve got a throne for you to sit on

You almost sigh out loud. Please don’t, you write back, and you practically hear Jungkook’s cackle in your head as the ellipses that indicate he’s typing pop up at the bottom of your screen.

[12:37pm] Jungkook: it’s my dick ;)

[12:37pm] Jungkook: get it?

I fucking hate you, you tell him, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

[12:38pm] Jungkook: and i love fucking you

[12:38pm] Jungkook: princess ;)

///

After nearly a week cooped up at your parents’ house, you’re getting restless. Without a car, you’re confined to the suburban neighborhood you grew up in, and the revelation that you’re bored somehow spills out to Jungkook during one of the many heated makeout sessions you’ve started having in the backseat of his sedan.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he’d asked, tilting his head curiously, mussed hair falling across his eyes. “I can drive you, if you want.”

And that’s how you find yourself wandering around downtown Busan on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. Jungkook drops you off at the curb after cumming down your throat, and now that he’s dashed off to work the lunch shift at the restaurant, you’re free to explore all of your old haunts. The shopping center that you and your friends used to frequent is right around the corner, so that’s where you decide to start. After all, you’re still in need of some professional attire, and as much as you love your mom, you’d rather avoid the unflattering dresses and itchy pantyhose she would be sure to seek out.

As soon as you step through the glass revolving doors, you find yourself in a familiar air-conditioned paradise of shops and restaurants. Stopping at your favorite coffee spot, you treat yourself to an iced mocha before heading to the first store.

Two hours and three full bags later, you decide to head to the food court for a quick snack. You’d promised Jungkook that you’d meet him at the restaurant once you were finished, but a glance at your phone tells you that you have more than enough time to stop by Kim’s Kitchen. Mrs. Kim makes the best cookies in the entire city, as far as you’re concerned, and you decide to order a dozen to take home and share with your family.

You’re lowering yourself into a seat at one of the many tables scattered around the tree-lined atrium when you spot a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair. The owner spots you a split second later, and you return her smile as she immediately swerves and heads your way. “{Name}, hey!”

“Hey, Chaeyoung,” you greet, gesturing for her to take the chair on the other side of the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, from the looks of it.” She grins and hefts her shopping bag. “I swear I’ve been to every shoe store and still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but somehow I’ve bought this much crap anyway. What about you? What are you on the hunt for?”

“Professional attire,” you say with a grimace. “Why are pants so hard to find? I swear, they’re all either too long or too short, and never fit properly in the waist and thighs.”

Chaeyoung pulls a face. “Ew, I know. Pantsuits are a nightmare unless you have a tailor. And who has money for that?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “So what are you up to now? Mrs. Kim has cookies fresh out of the oven, if you’re interested. Cinnamon rolls too, I think.”

“Ooh, that’s tough,” she says thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Would it be bad if I got both?”

“Not even a little bit,” you assure, reaching into your box and pulling out a cookie. “But here, I’ll make it easier for you. Hope you like chocolate chip.”

Chaeyoung gratefully accepts the cookie you hand over. “Who doesn’t love chocolate chip?” she asks, taking a bite.

“Criminals and heathens,” you reply, snagging a cookie for yourself. “Among others.”

She tilts her head. “Doesn’t Jimin hate chocolate chip?”

“My point exactly.”

Chaeyoung giggles, hiding it behind a manicured hand, and you laugh right along with her. Together, you decide to grab some smoothies, and when you sit back down, the conversation turns to your trip up to the lake house. “Next time, we’ll have to do a girl’s trip,” Chaeyoung says, propping her chin in her palm. “Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done one. You must’ve been exhausted with all those boys around.”

Unwillingly, your thoughts turn to Jungkook. “It wasn’t that bad,” you say slowly. “It was actually nice, being able to spend some time with them.”

“Who ended up going, anyway? Your brother, obviously. Taehyung? Yugyeom?”

You nod, raising a hand and ticking them off on your fingers. “Jimin, yeah. Taehyung, Yugyeom, Taemin, Minho. And Jungkook.”

If Chaeyoung notices the way you pause before saying the last name, she doesn’t comment on it. Her expression grows pensive, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she considers her next sentence. “You must be seeing a lot of him,” she says at last. “Jungkook, I mean.”

You take a massive sip of your smoothie and wonder if you’re imagining the lingering taste of him on your tongue. “Yeah, a bit,” you manage, your voice surprisingly steady. “He games with Jimin a lot.” After a pause, you decide to tell her the truth. “He dropped me off today, actually. Jimin’s working this summer, and I’ve been stuck at home, so he offered to take me downtown on his way to work.”

Chaeyoung hums thoughtfully. “He’s working at a restaurant or something, right?”

“Just a few streets away, yeah.”

Slowly, she nods. “We went out, you know.” Her voice is distant. “Just for a few weeks. He ended it after… well, after we slept together.”

There’s a pause, as Chaeyoung lets you digest this information, and a part of you wants to spill everything to her right then and there. Jisoo told me, you want to say, as acidic guilt begins to bubble up in your belly, every memory of the moments you’ve since shared with Jungkook rising unpleasantly in your throat. I’m sorry. I’m so,so sorry. You say it over and over again in your head, but the apology gets stuck in your throat when you try to voice it aloud.

Chaeyoung takes a sip of her smoothie and leans back in her chair with a sigh, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she says, gnawing on the end of the straw. “Everything changed our senior year, you know? It was like a switch had flipped—he started dating around, relationships that never lasted more than a week… I really should have known better when he asked me out. But I guess I thought I was different. We were already friends, after all. But whenever we were together, just the two of us, he was always… distant. Like he was somewhere else, mentally.”

Her words trail off, leaving only silence that you don’t know how to break. Chaeyoung sips at her smoothie again, before huffing out a laugh and waving a manicured hand in your direction. “God, sorry! I can’t believe I just started monologuing, ew. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—god. I’m not even mad at him anymore, you know? I just want him to figure his shit out.” Her eyes flit up to you briefly, before skittering back down to where a cookie crumb has landed on the tabletop. “It’s funny, though. Seeing him at Taehyung’s graduation party was probably the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He almost seemed like himself again.”

You can’t help it—the singular word bubbles up before you can stop it. “Really?”

Chaeyoung nods, her gaze flickering up to meet yours again. “Really. And honestly? I think it was because of you.”

Your heart does a series of backflips in your chest, thudding against the slats of your ribs. You try to respond, try to find the words, but they stick in your dry throat and your smoothie is practically gone at this point. Chaeyoung shrugs, unfazed by your silence, and you watch as she swirls her straw around in the remainder of her own drink. “I don’t know—maybe I’m imagining things. But it always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Didn’t he used to follow you around the playground?”

The memory draws a startled laugh from your lips. “Sure, yeah. But that was in elementary school.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, smiling around her straw. “Still. We never really forget our first crush, do we?”

///

You head over to the restaurant after bidding Chaeyoung goodbye, her words weighing heavy on your mind and your heart. Through the tall glass windows, you can just barely make out Jungkook—looking sharp in a black collared shirt and matching slacks as he greets a table of diners. His smile is warm and his stance is confident, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s grown from that gangly kid you knew back in grade school when you catch the edge of flirtation lingering in his gaze.

The boy who used to follow you around the playground is gone. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. And so, you take a deep breath and walk into the restaurant, doing your best to smile at the host who greets you and asks whether you’d like to sit at a table or the bar.

“Hey, you made it!”

Jungkook strides over with a grin, taking the menu off the host’s hands and leading you over to an empty seat at the bar. “It’s full service, so you can order food here, too,” he explains. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

You glance down at the menu he places on the counter, scanning the lines of text. “Not really, but it smells really good so I might get something to go. And this carbonara sounds really good, actually.”

“It is,” Jungkook confirms. “I’ll go put the order in. You want some water or anything to drink?”

“Water’s good,” you tell him, and he nods before trotting off to do his job. You watch him disappear to the back of the restaurant before reappearing with a tray of glasses, and follow his meandering path through the tables as he disperses drinks and checks on the guests. Somehow, his shoulders manage to look even broader in his black shirt, and you can’t ignore the way they taper into a narrow waist that’s only emphasized by the belt threaded through the loops of his dark slacks.

He’s stopping at the table you first saw him at now, leaning in close when one of the women seated there asks him a question about something on the menu. His smile oozes easy charm, and you can’t help the feeling that flares in your chest when she reaches for the menu and purposely lets her fingertips graze his hand. Frowning, you tear your gaze away and focus on the wood grain of the bar counter. Your eyes zero in on a smattering of water droplets near your left arm, and you’re just about to run a fingertip through them when a voice sounds to your right.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Surprised, you look up and find yourself face-to-face with a man who appears to be in his early thirties. Dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, a stray lock falling into his eyes, and you find yourself momentarily at a loss for words when your brain registers just how handsome he is.

“I—uh. I think Jungkook is going to grab me some water,” you finally manage, wanting nothing more than to melt into the ground when you hear the stammer in your voice.

“Ah, you know Jungkook?” The man laughs—a sound that is distinctly reminiscent of a squeaky windshield wiper. “He’s been pretty busy today, so why don’t I grab you that water instead?”

You nod, watching as he fills up a glass from the nozzle below the bar, accepting it when he hands it over. “Thanks.”

“Name’s Seokjin,” the man replies with an easy grin. “What’s yours?”

You return his smile and tell him your name. “Seokjin—Jungkook’s mentioned you a few times, I think. This is your place then, isn’t it?”

Seokjin beams. “Yep! Opened just a few months ago, after we finally sorted out the rat infestation and the asbestos problem in the rafters, and—” He pauses at the dumbfounded look on your face, and several beats pass before another peal of squeaky laughter escapes him. “I’m kidding. One-hundred percent. I promise the whole place is up to snuff.”

“So, I see you’ve met Seokjin.” Jungkook materializes at your side with a glass of water, which he takes a sip out of upon realizing that you already have a drink. “Is he making jokes about the health code again?”

“I would never,” Seokjin sniffs, and you laugh, finding yourself completely at ease for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

Jungkook rolls his eyes good-naturedly and turns his attention back to you. “Your carbonara should be out in a few,” he says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “I’m full of chocolate chip cookies, anyway. Here, you want one? They’re still a little warm.”

Jungkook eyes the box you pull out of your bag hungrily. “Hell yes. I can smell them from here.” Laughing, you push the box toward him and watch as he pulls a cookie out and takes an enormous bite. “Thanks,” he says in between chews, his cheeks puffy. You can’t help but smile when he takes a sip of water to wash it all down, his eyes growing round.

Turning to Seokjin, you offer him a cookie as well, which he declines with a graceful wave. “I should be feeding you, not the other way around,” he remarks. “You got the carbonara, right? I’ll go see if it’s ready.”

With one last glance at the patrons sitting at the bar, Seokjin departs with a promise to be back in five minutes. Jungkook finishes off his cookie, and you’re considering offering him another when a familiar chirpy voice sounds from your left.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here! What do you think—should we sit at the bar?”

You whirl in the direction of the voice, your eyes immediately landing on a group of three girls standing near the entrance. Two of them you don’t recognize, but the third you’ve seen before. Mina, you’re pretty sure her name was, and you’d recognize her anywhere. The last time you’d seen her was at the restaurant on the night of Jimin’s and Jungkook’s graduation, and your face heats at the memory of everything else that transpired that night.

“Welcome!” Jungkook draws you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see that he’s wearing a bright, welcoming smile. “Were you looking to sit at the bar, or at a table? It looks like there are a few empty spots at the end of the bar, if you ladies would prefer that. Otherwise, I can take you to a table.”

Mina’s face lights up in recognition, and you’re forced to hide your scowl in your water glass. “Hey, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“You work at that place a few blocks down, right?” Jungkook jabs a thumb in the general direction of the street. “I’ve seen you around.”

She giggles and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “That’s right, yeah! I remember you now. Graduation, right? You were my best table of the night.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I bet you tell everyone that.”

“Not a chance,” Mina answers, looking him up and down before a coy smile curves her lips again. “I only say what I mean.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” Jungkook says agreeably. Then he turns to you, distractedly fiddling with his apron as he speaks. “Jin should probably be back with your food soon. Are you okay to sit here by yourself for a bit?”

You can only nod, still staring down into your water glass. “Yeah, sure. Go on, then.”

He smiles and gestures for Mina and the girls to follow after him, and you’re positive you don’t imagine the triumphant look that flashes across Mina’s face before she departs. Frowning, you grab a cookie from your box and break a piece off, grateful for the distraction. Seokjin drops off your carbonara a minute later, and you find yourself suddenly ravenous as you dig into the steaming bowl of spaghetti.

Jungkook returns to your side about five minutes later, raking a hand through his hair as he replaces his notebook back in his apron pocket. “Man, I’m beat,” he remarks. “Thank god Mina and her friends didn’t order anything complicated. My brain would’ve exploded.”

“Thank god for that,” you echo dully. Unwillingly, your gaze drifts over to where Mina is now sitting, chatting happily with her friends. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing Mina here, of all places. I mean, what is she even doing here?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but most people go out and have fun on their days off,” Jungkook responds dryly, a grin breaking across his face when you roll your eyes at him. “Or wait… could it be that you’re jealous?”

You scowl. “Don’t be stupid.”

Jungkook just laughs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can look you in the eye. “It’s okay,” he says, his thumb brushing softly along the corner of your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, princess.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, and thankfully you don’t have to. Seokjin returns with a takeout container for you to put your leftovers in, shrugging off your gratitude when you offer it.

“I’m discounting your food, too,” he says, leaving zero room for argument. “Any friend of Jeon’s is a friend of mine.”

Jungkook’s shift ends half an hour later. He turns on his roadtrip playlist on the drive home, and you are more than happy to let the music wash over you, eliminating any need for conversation and drowning out your thoughts.

“See you later, princess,” he says once he’s pulled into your driveway, following your every move as you climb out of the passenger seat.

It sounds like a promise coming from his lips, and you can only nod. “See you.”

///

You’re in the middle of buttering a piece of toast for breakfast the next morning when there’s a knock on the front door. Perturbed, you walk over to answer it, wondering if perhaps Jimin has forgotten his keys again, but when you peer through the peephole it isn’t Jimin who stares back at you.

“Jungkook—” you begin, swinging open the door, but he cuts you off before you can finish, taking your face in his hands and pressing his mouth to yours.

“Hey,” he whispers once he’s had his fill, pulling back just enough to mumble the greeting against your lips. “They’re all gone for the day, right?”

“Yes,” you confirm, still reeling from the suddenness of his appearance and the subsequent kiss. “But how did you—?”

“Jimin told me,” Jungkook answers shortly, before pulling you close and kissing you again. This time, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, following his lead as he ushers you back upstairs and breaking the kiss only once in the process. He lays you down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and you sigh when he moves down to nip at your neck.

“No marks, Jungkook,” you remind him breathily. “You can’t leave marks.”

A low whine escapes him. “Can’t you wear a scarf?”

“It’s the middle of summer!” you huff in amusement, smacking his arm when he whines again and stubbornly sucks at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Jungkook’s breath is hot against your skin. His fingers find the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them off your hips and down your legs, and you kick them off as soon as they’ve reached your ankles. Hungrily, his gaze traverses the newly revealed skin, and you shiver when he gently trails his fingertips up your calves and all the way to the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Jungkook,” you sigh. “I haven’t shaved in days.”

“Ask me if I care,” he replies hoarsely, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue against the growing damp spot seeping through the cotton of your underwear. It’s far from your sexiest pair—you’d categorize them as granny panties, in all honesty—but Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit fazed as he hooks them aside and licks a broad stripe all the way up to your clit. “Want you,” he groans, and the vibrations from his voice send a volt of tingling electricity straight up your spine. “Want you in every way I can have you.”

You don’t respond. You don’t have to, because Jungkook is diving in with the enthusiasm of a man starved, tossing your underwear aside carelessly before banding his arms around your legs to hold you open. His face disappears between your thighs until only the top of his hair is visible, the dark strands mussed. Lips parting in a moan, your fingers find their way to his head, tangling at his roots, and Jungkook parts from your cunt briefly to groan his approval. Then he’s eating you out again—alternating between broad licks and teasing flicks to your clit before his tongue delves into your entrance, inhaling deeply as if he just can’t get enough.

The sun rises higher into the sky, beaming through your window and illuminating Jungkook’s head and shoulders in warm, hazy gold. You chant his name as you reach your high, spurred on by his teasing tongue and whispered words of encouragement, and the grin he wears when he straightens back up is near blinding. Slowly, he peels off his shirt and shucks off his jeans until he’s completely bare before you, the sun painting him in warm strokes of color. Deliberately, he crawls up your body, hiking up the hem of your shirt as he does. He plants kisses into your newly bared skin, and when he reaches your lips he settles there as if that’s where he’s meant to be.

Jungkook kisses you slowly. He kisses you deliberately—sensually—and you melt into his gentle touch, relishing in the feel of his bare body pressed so intimately against yours. You don’t miss the way his cock hardens against your thigh, but Jungkook seems to be in no hurry to do anything about it. Instead, he cups your cheeks and licks into your mouth, and you’re all too willing to part beneath him like a flower in bloom.

The rest of the afternoon passes like this—hot kisses and slow fucking, the two of you meshing until you’re no longer sure where you end and he begins. You keep an eye on the time, though, and by the time your parents and Jimin return home, you and Jungkook are showered and dry, sitting on the living room floor embroiled in a Mario Kart tournament.

“No fair! You played without me?” Jimin whines, plopping down between you and trying to wrest the controller away from Jungkook. “C’mon, let me have a turn. You’ve been at it all day!”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up past Jimin’s shoulder to meet yours, his lips twitching in barely suppressed mirth. “Yeah. We sure were.”

///

“God, I’m going to be sore for the next month.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” your brother snorts, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger like you’re a small child. His three o’clock dance class has just wrapped up, and people are slowly filtering out of the studio. A few of the younger women glance back toward where you’re standing with Jimin, and you have no doubt they’re vying for one last look at your brother in his tight-fitting joggers and loose tank that keeps drooping off one shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you suppress the urge to loudly bring up the time he walked into a sliding glass door and nearly chipped his tooth. Instead, you pinch his cheek back, and laugh when he pouts.

“Ow, hey! What happened to giving me all your love and support?”

“Please, Mom made me come to your class,” you retort, batting his invasive hand away. “I think she just wanted me out of the house.”

Jimin laughs. “Can’t blame her. You’re a goddamn freeloader.”

“Seriously? Because in that case, I’m dying to hear what that makes you.”

Thoroughly nonplussed, Jimin pinches your other cheek before dancing away on light feet. “I’m an angel. Now go away, so I can get ready for my next class!”

Rolling your eyes again, you heft your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel. “Fine, fine. Good luck, and all that. See you at dinner.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, and when you peer over your shoulder at him, he’s already sprawled on the floor and reaching for his toes in the unmistakable first step of his warm-up routine. He waves when he sees you watching, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before exiting the studio and heading for the door. You’ve borrowed your dad’s car for the day, and hum cheerily as you climb into the driver’s seat.

You spend the rest of the afternoon running errands—stopping by both the post office and the bank before heading for the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for dinner. By the time you get back home, Jimin has finished teaching at the studio as well, and you fix him with a stare as you plop two full bags of groceries in front of him on the kitchen counter.

“Care to help me carry the rest in?”

“Not really,” he replies, but he stands up and follows you outside to the car nonetheless.

Once all the groceries are inside and unpacked, you begin prepping for dinner. Jimin, to his credit, offers his help without you even having to ask, and with his assistance you finish cooking in record time. Your parents join you in the dining room, and together you enjoy the meal over the evening news.

You retire to your room after dinner, cracking open your laptop to go over the details of your internship for the umpteenth time. You’ve read the emails and the attached documents so many times you practically have them memorized, but the anxiety gnawing at your belly refuses to be quelled. You’re returning to Seoul in less than a week, and your empty suitcase sits in the corner of your childhood bedroom like a taunt. You wonder, briefly, if you should start packing.

“Nah, it can wait,” you decide, muttering the words to your nonexistent audience. Standing up, you stretch lazily before exiting your room and heading down the hall to the bathroom that you and Jimin share, muffling a yawn behind your hand.

You’ve just finished brushing your teeth when your phone vibrates against the bathroom counter, a notification lighting up your screen. Spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush, you towel off your face before picking up your phone, blinking owlishly at the text.

[11:08pm] Jungkook: can you come over?

By itself, it’s not an unusual request. At this late an hour, though, you can’t help the unease that rises up in your belly. And as if sensing your apprehension, your phone vibrates again.

[11:09pm] Jungkook: my parents are out

[11:09pm] Jungkook: please? i could use some company

There’s an edge of desperation in his last message—something you haven’t seen in him since you returned home. It reminds you a bit of the Jungkook you used to know—the scrawny, gangly one with a nose too big for his face and an all-encompassing fear of the opposite sex. Give me ten minutes, you tell him.

Okay, Jungkook writes back. See you soon.

The next few minutes are a blur. You slather on some moisturizer and consider changing out of your pajamas and putting on a bra, but dismiss the thought immediately. Jungkook has seen you in far less, and you’re staunchly opposed to putting a bra back on after a certain hour of the night. Besides, he’s sure to dispose of your clothes at some point, so there’s little point in changing. With that thought in mind, you tiptoe out into the hall, past your parents’ bedroom and Jimin’s closed door. You carefully edge around the creakiest floorboards and hop over the two steps in the staircase that always groan when subjected to additional weight. Gingerly, you edge open the front door, just enough to slip out into the night.

The trek across the yard doesn’t take long, and Jungkook swings the door open before you even get a chance to knock. “Hey,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar round glasses perched on his nose. He’s in his pajamas as well—a blue and white checkered set that’s about two sizes too big—and when he ushers you inside, you catch a whiff of his floral laundry detergent.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Long day,” he sighs, raking a hand through his already tousled hair and mussing it further. “Come on in. You want anything to drink?”

You shake your head, stepping into the entryway and watching as he closes and locks the door again. Jungkook nods and shuffles to the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of water from the faucet and downs half of it in one swig. His throat bobs as he swallows, his head tilted back to expose the long line of his neck, and you step a little closer as he turns to refill the glass.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll have some water too.”

“Mm. Okay.” Jungkook turns and fetches a second glass, filling it to the brim before handing it over. Then he takes your free hand and leads you upstairs, taking a left turn into his bedroom and nudging the door closed with his foot.

“So…” you begin slowly, putting your water down on the nightstand and reaching for the hem of your shirt. “We need to be quick. My mom’s a light sleeper, and I’m pretty sure I heard Jimin playing games in his room when I walked by.”

Jungkook chuckles and lays his hands over yours, stilling your attempt to take off your shirt. “When did you turn into such a horndog, Noona? Maybe I just want to hang out.”

You blink. “Did you just want to hang out?”

Jungkook plops onto his bed and grabs you by the waist, tugging you down and into his lap. “I mean, yeah—I thought that was obvious. Figured we could watch a movie or something.” Grabbing the tv remote, he switches on the television hanging on the opposite wall. “Any suggestions?”

You hesitate. You’ve been in Jungkook’s bedroom just once since you’ve come back, and the memory of the way he’d bent you over the desk in the corner sends a pulse of heat to your cheeks. Tearing your gaze away from the piece of wooden furniture, you instead focus on the television screen, watching as he navigates over to the Netflix menu.

“We can go old school too, if you want,” he remarks as he scrolls through the list of new arrivals. “I have a DVD player.”

That draws a laugh from your lips. “When was the last time you purchased a DVD? Last I checked, you only had Kung Fu Panda, Iron Man, and two copies of Titanic for some reason that you still won’t tell me.”

Jungkook laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. “Call it human error,” he says, looping his arms comfortably around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder. “How do you feel about going super old school? I can get the VHS player out of the basement and pop in one of the Pokémon movies.”

“I’m sure we won’t have to resort to that,” you assure him, grinning. “Here, why don’t we just watch Iron Man? Three’s your favorite, right?”

“Three is everyone’s favorite,” he says, scrolling over to the appropriate menu and clicking play. “It’s the best one, hands-down.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

The movie starts, and you shift off Jungkook’s lap to switch off the lights. Darkness overtakes the room as the screen lights up with the opening credits, and when you return to the bed, Jungkook has sprawled comfortably against the pillows lining the headboard. His eyes remain glued to the screen even as he reaches for you, and you hesitate for only a second before joining him, laying down beside him and letting his arm find its way around your shoulders. The scent of floral laundry detergent fills your nostrils, and you subtly nestle a bit closer, resting your head on his chest.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook has seen this movie. You know this for a fact, yet that doesn’t change how raptly he watches the screen, the action sequences reflected perfectly in his glasses. He’s practically vibrating with excitement by the time of the final showdown, mouthing along to the lines, and you hide your smile in the blue-and-white squares of his pajama shirt as the music swells.

It’s well past midnight by the time the credits roll. Jungkook seems perfectly content to lie on his bed with his arm around you, and when you make to get up, his grip slides down to your waist to hold you in place. “You gotta watch the credits all the way through,” he says, blinking at you with bleary eyes now that the adrenaline from the final showdown has worn off. “There’s a post-credits scene, remember?”

You shake your head, but let him pull you back down onto the mattress regardless. “I’m sure you already know what it is. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he asks with a grin.

The end credits continue—an endless stream of names scrolling down the screen. Your eyes begin to droop, the words blurring together, and it’s only when the music stops and the final scene begins that you jolt awake. Jungkook is faring no better than you are, suppressing a yawn behind his hand as he watches the last bit of the film through half-lidded eyes. Then the screen goes dark, and silence descends over the room once more. You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand and see that it’s nearly two in the morning. A look back at Jungkook reveals that both his eyes have fallen shut, and you slowly begin wriggling free from his embrace in order to head home.

You’ve barely moved an inch when Jungkook’s arm tightens around your waist. “Stay,” he mumbles sleepily, one eye cracking open.

You should say no. You should head home to the safety of your own bed. But there’s something about Jungkook—something soft and fond in his tired gaze and something vulnerable in the way he’s holding you so tightly against his pajama-clad body with his hair in complete disarray and his round glasses askew. Heaving a sigh, you reach up to take them off his face, placing them neatly on his nightstand.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll stay.”

Jungkook smiles sleepily and shuts his eyes. “G’night, then, Noona.”

“Night, Jungkookie.”

Within seconds, his breathing evens out, and you know he’s off in dreamland. Twisting in his grasp, you tug your phone out of your pocket and set a quick alarm for six o’clock. Neither of your parents wake up until seven at the earliest, and Jimin would sleep until three in the afternoon if he could get away with it, so you’re certain that you’ll have plenty of time to sneak back into the house. Besides, Jungkook’s bed is comfortable, and his chest is practically a furnace against your back. You aren’t sure you could work up the energy to leave even if you tried.

So instead, you settle back into his embrace and let sleep whisk you away.

///

There are birds chirping outside the window when you open your eyes the next morning, blinking blearily against the sun shining through the curtains. The blanket is tangled around your legs and there’s an arm looped around your waist, and you sit bolt upright when realization dawns. Jungkook groans and mumbles something unintelligible, but you don’t pay him any mind as you twist out of his grasp, clutching for your phone on the nightstand.

7:03am.

Shit.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you rise to your feet and shove your phone into the pocket of your pajama pants. Jungkook makes a sound that vaguely resembles your name, and you spare him a glance as you fumble for your shoes. He’s flat on his back, blinking hair out of his eyes as he fights to stay awake. “Hey,” he manages, his voice raspy.

“I gotta go,” you whisper urgently, successfully putting your shoes on the right feet and wrenching the door of his bedroom open. And then you turn and dash out, leaving a very sleepy, very disheveled Jungkook blinking after you.

Your house, when you carefully crack open the front door and poke your head inside, is quiet. Much to your relief, you don’t hear any of the telltale signs that your family is awake and downstairs yet—no drip of the coffee maker and no sizzle of bacon or eggs. From upstairs, however, you can distantly hear the sound of the shower, so you dart inside and toe off your shoes, padding into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. You check the alarm you’d set the night prior as you scoop coffee grounds into the filter, and curse under your breath when you realize you’d somehow managed to select six PM instead of AM.

You’re seated in the living room with a mug of fresh coffee when Jimin shuffles in with damp hair and a sleepy frown. “You’re up early,” you remark.

“I have a morning class to teach,” he replies, yawning widely as he grabs a fresh mug. “What’s your excuse?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

Suppressing another yawn, your brother turns his attention to the refrigerator, rooting around for the milk. And you return yours to the window, where you can see the side of the Jeon’s house, and Jungkook’s bedroom window on the second floor. There are no signs of life from within, and you wonder if he’d gone back to sleep after your departure. Considering how tired he’d looked last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Chaeyoung’s voice echoes in your mind then, soft and wistful. It always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. And honestly? I think it was because of you. We never really forget our first crush, do we?

And then Jisoo’s words rise up in your brain, just a bit louder. He’s a heartbreaker. He never, ever stays until the morning.

So why, then, did you wake up in his arms today?

[fggtwrmz]

✞ pretty little sinner ✞

Hihi!! Taz here with this accounts first ((technically second)) post! This ones a full fic so it’s v lengthy

warnings: dubcon, noncon is you squint, size kin, dirty talk, talk of breeding, oral, religious themes, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia, talk of corruption, did i mention degradation? cus we went a lil ham on degration, very rough in general, no like seriously kuroos hella mean here

please mind the warnings and leave if your uncomfortable with any listed!!

wc: 7.6k

The whole small town that you had lived in had known you and your parents as the perfect catholic family, and why would they have any reason to not believe that? After all, you were always such a good girl. The pride and joy of your parents’ lives, you did good in school, never complained about chores, and attended church every Sunday. That’s right, you were the perfect little catholic school girl. 

That's what drew you into him. 

You looked so innocent, so pure, so breakable, he just had to have you. 

And that cute little cross necklace you wore to show your faith? He just wanted to rip it off of you. Have you worship him instead. 

When you had spoken to him you didn’t imagine what he would actually be like. He’d put up such a sweet facade. But that's all it was. 

A facade. 

“What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this, Dollface?” Came out the velvety voice of the walking personification of temptation himself; Kuroo Tetsuro. 

You had heard about him through whispered rumors throughout the halls. He had an infamous reputation. But rumors were just that. Rumors.

So you humored him. 

“At….The corner store? I’m getting snacks, what does it look like?” You had to giggle. It was such a foolish question. So foolish that you didn’t know the weight that it had held. 

He had you hook, line, and sinker, you were just too innocent to realize. And he had been oh so sweet to accept your invitation to church on Sunday! Of course, you had to ask him, the house of God was as good a place to get to know someone as any. Much better than a dingy corner store anyway. 

His words were sweet and charming, even for just a small chat. There was a look on his face that made you suspect something, but the way he spoke pushed your suspicions. 

So when Sunday came and you saw him waiting for you at the door, in what appeared was his normal attire, you still gave him a big smile and waved him over to where you and your parents were. 

“Kuroo! You made it!” You wanted to embrace him in a hug, but you felt that would be a little too familiar for someone you had only met yesterday at a convenience store. “Of course I made it, I wouldn’t blow someone as cute as you off.” He spoke, caressing your cheek. 

Of course he wasn't nervous about being too familiar. 

You felt the warmth rush to your cheeks, the affection catching you off guard. 

“Sorry if I seem a bit underdressed.”  He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, though it seemed as if he didn’t care. His attire could be deemed inappropriate for a church setting. His ripped jeans, loose-fitting button-up shirt, Jordan Retros, contrasting with your pure white short sleeve blouse, frilly plaid green and black skirt, and shining black Mary Janes, and of course that shiny cross necklace that hung so prettily from your neck. 

You giggled, “No worries! I’m sure if you had shown up naked the lord wouldn’t turn you away.” 

And there you went again, going on about how the lord would love anyone, sinner or saint. He’d wondered how you would react if you knew the sins he had committed, had planned to commit. 

He wondered what filthy sins such a precious girl like you were hiding under that short little skirt of yours. 

He couldn’t wait to find out. 

You had taken your seat in the far back pews, opting to sit in between him and your parents. You’d been paying attention to your pastor, up until you felt a warm, calloused hand rest itself on your thigh. 

You looked up with a curious look, but Kuroo seemed to be more focused on the word of the holy father than you, so you relaxed at his touch. Keyword; seemed. 

And that wasn’t all he was planning to do, unfortunately for you. 

He rubbed up and down your upper thigh, occasionally squeezing the soft flesh between your skirt’s end and your thigh highs beginning, pushing your skirt just a little higher up your thighs to get more space. 

At that moment you thought you'd absolutely die if your parents looked over at the sinful act that was going on between you two, but when you looked over they were both too caught up in the pastor’s prayer to notice anything. 

His hand moved inward, causing your breath to hitch. His fingers practically brushed against your core, causing you to let out a gasp. It was loud enough for just him to hear but low enough to where your parents wouldn’t suspect anything. 

You placed a hand on his wrist, signaling it was not the time for this. He simply flashed a smirk, never looking down your way. His fingers made their way to your panties, gently rubbing against your folds, you ended up dampening the garments in the process. 

You sucked in your breath, now holding onto his wrist with a feverish grip, notifying him just how on edge you were. 

“Time for the communion! Everyone, form a line, children, teenagers, then adults.” Father announced.

You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding in. 

Your pastor had just saved you from eternal damnation. 

You and Kuroo walked in line, behind a couple of kids and in front of a few more teens. He rubbed down your shoulders and arms, sending chills down your spine. 

You held your hands behind your back as children took their crackers which were symbolic of the flesh of Jesus, their “wine” symbolic of the blood of Christ, and scattered back to their seats. 

When it was your turn, Kuroo made sure to keep a keen eye on the way your head tilted back ever so slightly when you had opened your mouth for the cracker to be placed on your tongue. 

He wondered what other situations you would be in such an arguably compromising position. 

You ate the cracker and took the small, plastic shot glass-like cup with you back to your seat. 

“Nah,” Kuroo shook his head, declining the offer of the cracker, and took the cup, downing it and throwing it in the small trash bin next to the pastor, walking back to his seat, not looking back. 

He sat back down next to you, his hands in his pockets this time. You stared ahead, waiting for anything to happen, the tension between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

Suddenly, he leaned down to your ear, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. “By the way, you get so fucking wet. It’d be pathetic if it weren't so adorable.” He hummed, sending heat straight to your core. 

You gasped at his words, looking up at him as he leaned back up. “Kuroo!” You whispered. “You shouldn’t curse in the house of the lord!” 

He looked down at you and chuckled slightly. 

“Oh princess, if it were just us here I’d do so much worse.” He teased, making your eyes widen. Heat rushed over your body, causing you to break eye contact with him. His gaze became too much to bear. 

Your parents and pastor had warned you of temptation before, but you had always thought it would be easy to overcome. You would have never thought that it could be something like this. His words and gentle touches felt like too much yet not enough all at the same time. 

You wanted it all to stop, but yet you wanted to beg for more. 

But you had to keep your composure, God's eyes were on you, you reminded yourself. 

But all you could feel was his eyes on. They were fixated on you. The thought alone of that insatiable look in his eye made your thighs pressed together and your throat run dry. It all made your head reel. 

And just like that, it was over. 

You had been so lost in thought that it took Kuroo shaking you to make you notice everyone getting up and gathering outside for the weekly catch-ups that turned, “just a few minutes dear, and then I swear we’ll leave,” into 30 minutes and plans to babysit Mrs. Johnson's grandsons next weekend. 

“Is it time to go?” Kuroo asked you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Only the adults are leaving, the teenagers and children stay for Sunday school, that’s why I’m wearing this outfit.” You whispered to him. 

He went silent until he proposed an idea that caught you way off guard. “We should go back to my place for bible study, I might be able to show you a different type of God.” 

Your eyebrows raised at the sudden invitation, you didn’t know what he meant by that, but you know it’d be rude to decline such an offer since he had come to Sunday worship despite his belief in this “other type of god”. 

Before you could answer he tapped your mother’s shoulder, catching the attention of both of your parents. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I speak to you for a second?” He asked politely. Your parents said their goodbyes to Sister Elise and stepped away with you and Kuroo. “Yes?” Came the voice of your mother. 

“Would it be alright if me and your sweet daughter here, a real angel if I do say so, could go back to mine so we can go over the Psalms? I would offer to do it over the phone but the lord’s word can only be understood in person.” It’s like he had the good Christian boy next door role down pact. 

Your parents looked at each other worriedly. “I don’t know, will there be a guardian to watch over you two?” Your father asked. “Yes sir, my fathers at work, but my mother will be there. I promise I’ll have her home at a reasonable time.” He promised.

Oh yeah, he has this little act down to the T, not like you could see through it though. You were so naive and thought that you could bring out the good in him with the help of good. How foolish. 

Your father looked at his watch. “It's five now, so have her home no later than eight. Understood?” “Crystal clear, thank you, sir. Shall we get going?” He asked you, a perfect and pure smile plastered on his face. 

He was too perfect, your parents already adored him. 

Too bad it was only to get in your pants. 

———

You were on his bed. His room smelled of pinewood and lavender. You drowned in the scent, loving every second of it. 

His room was nothing like yours, he had deep red walls, wooden floors, and everything looked to be either black or red, barely any other colors being seen other than the clothes in his closet, and some other things you couldn’t identify, but he shut it before you could get a good look. 

“Sorry if my room is a bit dirty, I didn’t think about cleaning up before inviting you.” He apologized, closing the curtains. 

You loved the way he spoke, it was like his words were coated with chocolate. His luscious and velvety voice made you think things, things the lord would frown upon. 

“No worries! Nobody’s perfect.” You kindly reassured him with a polite smile. 

He’d think differently, you were a goddess in his eyes. Every part of you, even everything he couldn’t see, not that he’d be in the dark for much longer. 

He chuckled, his eyes wandering down your figure, undressing you with his eyes, as you sat innocently on his bed waiting for whatever he might do. 

“So where’s your mom?” You asked innocently, catching him off guard. “What?” “You said your mom was here, where is she? I didn’t see her when we walked in.” 

He’d already forgotten. Typical. 

“Oh, she’s probably taking a nap.” He lied with ease. 

He didn’t think he'd be able to forgive himself if he was in the presence of his mother while thinking about such ungodly things. He planned to defile you, and he wanted to be the only one who even got close to experiencing you in such a state.  

“Oh well-uhm...I’ll be sure to be quiet so I don’t disturb her.” 

He held in a chuckle. There was no way that you would be quiet, no way you could be quiet when he got his way.

“So…. While I have no real interest in changing faiths, I have to ask about the god that you worship.” 

He had you right where he wanted you. 

He hovered over your frame at the edge of the bed, him standing and towering over you. He’d lifted your chin to look up at him with the tips of his fingers and said in a delightfully sinful tone, 

“Oh baby,” He leaned in close to your ear, you could feel his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “I’m the new god, and you're gonna worship me like I’m your true creator.” 

You felt yourself shrink, yes at the way he was menacingly towering over you, but at the way he describes his God—no, himself. 

“You-you’re...the god you were talking about?” You stammered, your hands on his chest, trying to make some distance between you and his dominating presence. 

Sadly to no avail. 

“Mhm, and you’re going to be a good girl and obey me, understood?” 

 "Y-yes, sir." 

"Awe look at you, using your manners without me having to tell you. Keep that up and you just might get a reward." He cooed.

You felt a familiar heat pool at the pit of you. 

What was he going to do to you? What were these sudden temptations? And most importantly why did you want more. 

This was god testing you, and you were failing miserably. 

You wanted so badly to give in to your desires. To leave behind the life of that sweet innocent angel that everyone once knew, you wanted to give yourself wholly to your new one and only savior. 

You were really doing this. 

You were abandoning the only faith you’d ever known for some stranger. 

For all you know he could be a demon from hell himself, here to stray you away from the path the lord had originally sent you to. No, he couldn’t be a demon. He was so sweet when the two of you had first met, and he was so polite when addressing your parents. 

You felt like Eve, being tempted with such a delicious specimen by the devil himself. So when he pushed his lips against yours harshly, like Eve, you gave in. 

His lips molded perfectly against yours. Your tongues were dancing in an elegant waltz that could only be described as heavenly. His lips tasted so sweet on yours. If this was the forbidden fruit you would happily taste it again and again. 

His hands roamed your backside, hiking your skirt up so he could get a feel of your cotton panties. Your breathing sped, feeling him caress your clad ass. You’d always been told to never let anyone touch you like this unless you’re married, but I guess your god was the only exception. 

That’s right. Kuroo was god now, and you had to let him do whatever you want.

Suddenly, he roughly pulled your skirt off, throwing it behind him. You whimpered, afraid he might’ve ripped your skirt. 

Feeling his rough hands run up your sides and into your shirt, he stopped kissing you to look down, causing you to let out a whine, missing the feeling of his lips on yours. 

“Awe baby, don’t look so sad, I’ll get your mouth back to work real soon.” He whispered, trying to unbutton your shirt. Trying. 

You could tell he was getting frustrated at how the buttons wouldn’t come undone. 

He groaned loudly, grabbing an open hole of your blouse and ripping it open, making the buttons of your shirt fly everywhere. You gasped, whining because now you didn’t have anything to come home in. 

“Kuroo! How am I supposed to go home without a shirt?” You whined, hearing him chuckle soon after. 

“Hush, you’ll be fine don’t worry, you won’t be needing it anytime soon.” Kuroo reassured with a smirk.

He unclipped your bra and threw it behind him, looking down hungrily at your tits, admiring how perfect they were. He cupped one of them and proceeded to place the other in his mouth. You let out a soft moan, awakening something fierce in him. 

“Oh fuck, I can’t wait to hear more of those sweet sounds, princess. That’s right, let it all out for me baby.” 

He kissed up your chest and to your neck, peppering kisses and bite marks on you. Claiming you. 

He bit down on a certain spot, making you moan out, your fingers getting intertwined with the back of his hair. Your legs clung onto his waist as he abused the spot with his mouth, leaving dark hickeys. 

Your moans became needier when he brought his knee up to your cunt, grinding it right against your clit, making you wetter by the second. 

You felt high on ecstasy, the pleasure becoming heavenly, but what made everything pure bliss was his words. 

The way he’d call you his baby, his princess in between kisses, and the best of all, his little sinner. 

Being called his sinner made you feel a different type of feeling. It felt wrong, you could feel the heavens looking down on you in disappointment with each response you gave him. 

Yes, you’d be giving up your oath to stay pure until marriage, but if it’s your god taking your virginity, what harm could be done?

When he lifted up off you, you were snapped from your pleasure. 

He was looking down at your body and you resting upwards on your elbows, wondering why he’d left. 

“Get on your knees.” It wasn't a request. It was an order. One that you, of course, didn’t even think to disobey. 

So there you sat. All pretty and kneeling in front of him as if he was an alter. 

 You looked like such a perfect slut in his eyes. Who knew that such an innocent little virgin could look like the perfect whore. 

He wouldn’t tell you that though. No, he wanted to warm you up first. Call you such sweet names, make you feel like his precious baby girl and then let you know just how much of a dirty slut he thought you were.

Knew you were. 

All you needed was a push in the right direction. And he would provide that push. 

“Now you want to know how to appease your god, don’t you?” 

You nodded from in between his legs enthusiastically. 

“Well, first, you have to atone for your sins. Now how would we go about doing that?” 

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know what to say. 

“C’mon baby, be a good girl and use your words. How would you atone for your sins? Think about the position you're in before you answer.” 

You looked down at your legs which were folded underneath you and looked back up at him. 

“P-Prayer?” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at your innocence. “Oh princess, so innocent even in such a vulgar position baby. You’re gonna atone for your sins by sucking me off. You don't want me to be mad, do you?” 

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even understand what sins you had even committed, but if Kuroo says you’ve sinned, you'll let him do anything to make you holy again. 

He stood up and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock and waving it teasingly over you. 

“Now stick out your tongue.” 

You did as you were told, eyes never leaving his cock. It was the only one you’d ever seen, and the only one you ever wanted to see. It was a good 7 or 8 inches and about 4 inches wide in girth. 

It had the drool pooling at the bottom of your tongue before falling on your thigh high socks. It felt every bit as sinful as it looked and it had your panties soaked. You'd grinded against yourself for some sort of friction. 

“Awe, so pretty for me, now listen to me, you're gonna take everything I give you, ok princess?” 

You nodded, feeling as if your voice would betray if you tried to speak. 

“What’d I say about using your words? Such a shame, you were being so good earlier.” 

“Sorry sir, please don’t be mad, I promise I’ll-I'll take it all. I'll be so good for you.” The words were coming out faster than you could control. If someone would have told you that you would be in that predicament about a week ago you would have laughed in their face. But here you were, begging for him to do something, anything. 

You sounded absolutely brain dead and he loved it. 

“Ah, yeah that’s it, that’s my good girl.” He said grabbing you by your hair and gently guiding you down his shaft. 

“Fuck baby, ‘gonna train this throat so well you’ll be ready to worship this cock with your mouth anytime of any day.” He growled, lowering your head down faster, soon hearing you gag over his length. You felt tears prick your eyes as he finally thrusted his full length in your mouth, going well past your limits. 

He lets out a dark chuckle, suddenly being cut off by a throaty moan. 

“Ah f-fuck princess you’re being such a good girl, now remember to breathe through your nose.” He reminded you, resulting in you looking up at him and nodding, letting him know you understood. 

Your parents would disown you if they knew what you were doing. Your pastor and priest wouldn’t even think of speaking to you. You’d only have Kuroo, but that doesn’t sound too bad. After all, you had devoted your life to your religion in the past, so what would be so different now? You’d just be able to indulge in such fine luxuries as getting facefucked after church. 

He put his other hand on your head, roughly shoving your head down, matching the bucking upwards of his hips. The action erupted a loud groan from him, throwing his head back. 

You could feel him all the way down your throat. 

“Oh yeah, that’s my good girl, fucking hell baby girl,” he moaned, you could feel his thrusting start to get uneven, your throat not having anymore time to adjust to his size and abuse. 

His pace was absolutely brutal but you sat there, taking everything he gave you.

On the inside you were smiling, happy to please your god, you felt so proud of yourself for making him feel good. Being his good little girl. His obedient little worshipper. 

Your eyes became watery, the way he roughly thrusted into your mouth made your throat hurt, which made your eyes water. 

He bit his lip, lowering the sound of the grunt he let out. “Mmf, baby you look so pretty right now, such a pretty fucking princess for me.” He grunted. 

You didn’t feel pretty, though. Your face was covered in tears, sweat, makeup, and ran down mascara. Your hair was under Kuroo’s grip, messily overlapping his hands. Strings of drool were hanging from your plump lips onto your thighs, not to mention your soaked panties. 

Kuroo on the other hand looked heaven sent. Hair messily askew and face tinted slightly red. Biting his lip while sweat slid down his forehead. He looked like he was graced by God.

He looked like he was graced by God.

You felt ashamed at how wet you got by just looking at him, but fuck was he sexy. 

He shoved your head down quicker and quicker, thrust harder into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck baby you’re gonna-you’re gonna make me—” His groans became more and more breathy, and his working became more and more sloppy, until you felt a warm, thick, sticky liquid coat the insides of your mouth. 

The foreign substance tasted bitter and you wanted to spit it—

“Ah ah,” he sang, grabbing your chin to make you look up at him. 

You looked disgusting. He wanted to see you like this more often.

 “Be good and swallow for me, baby girl.” 

You gulped down the liquid, feeling it still in your throat, but it didn’t bother you enough to where you couldn’t breath. 

“Di-did I do good, sir?” You sounded absolutely broken, and it was like music to his ears. 

“You did amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard. Does your face feel alright?” He cooed, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“My jaw hurts, and so does my throat, but I’m glad I got to make you feel good.” 

Kuroo smirked, admiring what he molded you into. Such a dedicated disciple, you deserve an award. “Now it’s your turn. Come on, hop up on the bed for me,” he commanded, patting the spot on his bed beside him. 

You did so eagerly, not wanting to break your obedience streak. You sat on your feet, your hands resting on each of your thighs, smiling with the light shining beautifully in your eyes. 

Even as the mascara ran down your cheek, you looked so beautiful to him. 

“Lay down.” He softly said. You obeyed, as usual, keeping your legs closed in the air. You had no idea what he was thinking of doing. 

“Spread them for me, babes.” He commanded. You were confused, why did he want your legs spread? 

“Wait, why?” You asked innocently. His eyebrows furrowed.

 “Because I said so. You’re not really denying the word of your lord, are you?”

Of course you didn’t. You were completely devoted to him, so without further hesitation you spread your legs. He pulled your drenched panties up off you and threw them somewhere in the room. 

He ducked himself inbetween your thighs and planted your thighs on the side of his head with a secure grip. 

“W-Wait!” You squeaked out. 

“What’s wrong baby? You’ve been such a good girl, and good girls deserve rewards now don’t they?”  He acts like this is for you, when in all honesty it’s all been for him. This whole time he’s only been fulfilling his desires of turning you from a sweet and innocent princess into a filthy fucked out whore and he knows this will only speed the process a bit, you just so happen to be getting some pleasure out of it. 

“Yeah I gue- Ah!” A moan cut you off when you felt him lick up your wet folds, moaning your legs jolt up and your back arch. 

He plunged his tongue into you, his thick tongue thrusts into you, making your moans come out in squeaks. You felt absolutely amazing already. 

His tongue circled around your clit, pushing his tongue in and out of you in patterns; leaving his tongue in, out, for a second, then in again going back to sucking and circling.

Your moans became higher and breathier each time his tongue circled your clit, it drove him absolutely crazy.

He was...spelling something? You could feel it as he kept making the same trails around your cunt. 

K,

U,

R,

O,

O. 

Kuroo. 

“Mmph, Kuroo, more please…” You moaned tugging at his hair. He slid his thumb up your thigh, rubbing your clit as he pushed his tongue deeper in you, prodding your sweet spot.

The sudden action made you cry out in pleasure, tugging at his hair. He moaned from under you at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure on his scalp.

Kuroo stuck his tongue in and out of you, continuing to rub your clit with his thumb. You felt a tingling sensation grow low in your stomach, making your grip tighten on Kuroo’s hair and while your other frantically grabbed at his sheets, the foreign feeling traveling through your entire being. 

You moaned his name, wanting to ask him what the sensation was, but your mind only focused on him, making barely anything come out other than moans and his name. 

His fingers sped up as his tongue explored your walls. The sensation made you tighten, sending chills through your core as the pressure became too much to process alone.

Your legs twitched as your orgasm rocked through you, your eyes rolling back, gripping his hair tightly.

All that you could think of in that moment was Kuroo. KurooKurooKurooKuroo. It was a repeating mantra in your mind.

Your walls tightened around Kuroo’s tongue, a moan squeaking from your throat. Your grip tightened as you came, covering his tongue. You came from your high slowly, allowing you to let out a satisfied sigh. 

You smiled peacefully as he hungrily lapped at your clit, making sure not to let a single drop of your cum slip from his tongue. 

As he pulled out his fingers and lifted up from your body, you relaxed, your legs falling and your hand bringing itself to rest upon your stomach. 

He came up and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. You tried pushing him away, not liking the taste of yourself, but he slapped your thigh, taking your hands and holding both of them above your head. 

You whimpered squirming, uncomfortable with him holding you down. You shook your head in the kiss, trying to get away, but he only took this as an invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth. 

You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body temperature rise as he rocked against you, grinding against your thigh. The foreign feeling felt weird, but knowing you were giving him pleasure did cloud your mind with a hazy fog. 

He parted ways from the kiss and looked down on you. 

You looked so fucked out, and the real fun hadn’t even started yet. He wondered how you would be able to take him all the way, the thought of you not being able to handle all of him snuck its way  into his mind and making him groan. 

You would look so cute crying that it was all too big, how it wouldn’t fit. The money he’d pay to see that, he’d bow down and pray to any god to see that image and keep it in his mind forever. 

He leaned up and loomed over you, caging you with his hands on either side of your head. His eyes were dark with lust. It struck a tinge of fear in you. 

He unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out, and spread your legs once more.

Leaning down, he whispered in your ear. "Do you think you're worthy enough for my cock princess?" 

"Huh!?" 

"Awe, what did you think was gonna happen sweetheart? You thought it'd be that easy to make up for your sins—"

"But you said—" you felt tears prick your eyes. You didn't think you were ready for such a big step before marriage. You two weren't even dating!

"But you said—" He mocked in a whiny voice. "I know what I said, and now I'm saying," he pulled you by the cross on your necklace. 

"That I'm gonna fuck you until you’re too fucked out to even think about anything else. I'll turn you into such a pretty whore that you'll feel dirty even thinking about stepping foot in that church. Do you understand slut?"

Whore? Slut? Where was this coming from? He’d been so nice to you. You wouldn’t think he’d call you such degrading names. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him. 

You looked down at his size, causing you to whimper in fear for your small body. 

Kuroo squeezed your cheeks in one hand roughly, making you whine, your eyes watering. “Use your words, you dumb bitch. Do you or do you not understand what I’m saying?” He repeated. 

You nodded. “I-I understa-stand.” You hiccuped, hugging your arms.

You we’re borderline sobbing at this point. This wasn’t the smooth and sweet guy who chatted you up in the convenience store. This wasn’t the sweet christian boy your parents knew. This man was Lucifer himself.

And now, your new lord and saviour. 

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. You should have never given him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone was right about him. He was just a mean playboy jerk who treated women like shi-

“Awe don’t cry sweetheart. You were doing so good just a minute ago.” His sweet and comforting tone snapped you from your thoughts, and you felt your mind become just a bit less panicked about the whole situation. “Although, you do look awfully pretty when you cry… hm… How bout this; I’ll just make you feel so good to where your instant reaction is to cry. That way I get to see that cute little tear-stained face, and you get to have my expert cock. How does that sound, princess?” 

You nodded, feeling like if you opened your mouth only sobs would come out. 

“What did I say about your words?” He quickly chastised. 

“S-Sorry. Yes sir I-I’d like that…” 

“That's a good girl,” The praise made your chest bubble with joy. You were happy that you could be seen as good in his eyes after all the disgusting things he had just called you. 

“Now here’s the worst part.” 

And that was all the warning you got before he rammed his cock into you. It was the worst pain that you had ever felt. The agonizing stretch, the unfamiliar feeling of being so full, it all was too painful to bear. So you did exactly what he planned and cried. 

He thought of going slow, he really did, but then he wouldn’t be able to see you and those absolutely gorgeous tear streaks. 

“Kuroo, it hurts! It’s too much! Take it out please!” You sobbed out. 

He laughed at you. “Aww poor baby, is it too much?” 

“Good.” He said with another slam of his hips. “You seem—fuck— to forget what we’re—oh god your so fucking tight—doing this for. You were acting like a bitch in church. In the house of your—shit—precious lord.” He said the last point in a mocking tone. “And now you're just paying for your sins to your new god.” He breathed out while continuing to thrust into you at a brutal pace. 

You could only cry harder as he fucked you with such vigor. The stretch was so painful and with every rough thrust he hit your cervix dead on. It was absolute torture. 

So you 're confused as to why the pain slowly subsided and turned to pleasure. Were you… enjoying this? No. There was no way. You didn’t even get a real say in what was happening. So why we’re tiny gasps coming out faster than you could stop them? And why did your hips start to move down to match his thrusts. 

“How do you thi-think your parents would react to your sinful actions right now? Huh, you dumb slut? Bet they’d be so disappointed to see that their precious little girl is nothing but a pretty little sinner huh? Say it! Fuck- Say you’re a sinner, and make sure the neighbors can hear you say it.” 

“B-but your mom..!” 

“You actually believed that?” He laughed. His laughing consisted of grunts and groans, making his laughing time out. “You’re such a fucking dumbass, you know that? I wouldn’t be touching your disgusting ass if my mother was home.” He growled, making more tears stream down your face. 

You whined, covering your face because of the absurd amount of embarrassment you felt. 

“Oh no no no, don’t cover your beautiful face now!” He grunted, taking both of your wrists and holding them above your head. 

With only the bottom half of his cock fucking into you, his thrusts were long and deep, making sure you felt it in your stomach. Your eyes rolled back with each agonizingly painful and deep thrust, your nails ripping off your skins from balling your fists. 

“Oh fuckkkk you're so tight for me.” Kuroo groaned. ”How’s such a slut like you got such a tight pussy?” 

It was obvious that the question was rhetorical as he started to slow his thrusts but put more force behind them, bruising your cervix. All you could let out were little “ah ah ah ahhhhhhs”. 

He slowly stopped, looking down at your trembling body. He let out a breathy groan, shaking his head and biting his lip. 

He let go of one of your wrists and grabbed hold of your hand, bringing it down to your stomach. 

“Princess, do you feel that?” He asked, rubbing your hand over a bump on your stomach. You looked down with him, seeing a slight bump stand with attention below your belly button, making your eyes widen and your breath quicken. 

“Ka-ka-Kuroo! What is that?!” You frantically questioned. 

He looked up at you with the most agrivated, most dumb founded look on his face. “What do you mean, ‘what’s that’?! That’s me, dollface.” He spat, making you jump. “Y-you..?” 

He groaned, slamming into you again, causing you to scream out again. “Ya’ see that moving in your stomach? That’s me, fucking deep into your tight tight pussy.” He growled. You look down again, seeing the bulge in your stomach move with each sharp thrust Kuroo sent through you. 

It made your head feel fuzzy. 

Your body started adjusting to his size, finally. You lifted your legs to cling onto the side of his waist, but they quickly fell spread for him. Your arms also stopped struggling, relaxing under his grip. Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head. With each animalistic thrust of his hips you could feel the bed shake. You could barely hear the frame hit the wall over the sound of your high whines and moans and his low groans filling your ear. But you could still faintly hear it, reminding of how rough he was getting. 

“Alright princess now open your mouth and stick your tongue out.” He commanded from over you. 

You opened your mouth and leaned your head back being sure to lol your tongue out.

You felt a cold liquid settle near the tip of your tongue, it was Kuroo’s spit. He’d let it fall like a fountain. Licking his lips when he’d finished. 

“Now swallow like a good girl.”

You closed your mouth and gulped. Letting the spit slide down your tongue. It should have grossed you out, but instead it made your eyes roll back. 

“Aww, look at you, all pretty and fucked out.” he shrugged, thrusting upwards into you, hitting a spot that made you scream out in ecstasy. 

“Kuroo, right there! Fuck, Kuroo yes right there!!” You moaned, arching your back and throwing your head back. 

That was the first time you cursed. Ever. 

“Such a dirty vocabulary you’re discovering! I’m such a good influence on you, your parents would be so proud.” He sarcastically exclaimed in a low and gravelly voice. 

Your parents. You were so caught up in your pleasure that you completely forgot all about them, and the time limit they'd set for you. You were sure you’d past it, it was fairly dark outside. 

You whined, feeling more tears of disappointment roll down the side of your face. “Do-don’t talk about them right now…Ah-I’m gonna-Kuroo fuck p-please!”

He only thrusted harder faster. “Awe baby, do you think you're the one in control? That’s so cute.” He pulled you by your necklace for the second time that night. “You’re atoning for your sins, and I’m using your body for my own pleasure. So you’re gonna sit back, and make sure the only thing that comes out of that pretty. Little. Mouth,” He punctuated each word with a harsh thrust. “Are those pretty. Little. Moans. You got that princess?” 

“Y-yes sir. I’m so sorry sir.” 

“Awe look at my baby! Using her words like a good girl!” He deeply cooed. 

You bit your lip, holding back the moan you desperately wanted to let out, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your voice. He noticed and started to pound faster. You couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Fuck! Kuroo! Ple-ase! Fuck you’re so good. Sosososo good. Pleeeeease!” 

“Listen to you! You sound downright pathetic!” He laughed at you. It felt humiliating, but you felt yourself getting wetter from the whole situation. The intensity, the humiliation, Kuroo’s groans, they all were filling up your senses, and you could feel yourself nearing your climax. 

“Look at you, you’re getting tighter. How much of a- fuuuuck how is it possible that your tighter- slut are you? You're really getting off to me calling you a slut? You like that? Huh? Go on, answer me whore.”  

“Yes! Yes Kuroo! I’m your whore! Fuuuuuckkkk!” Your moans were high and breathy. 

He pulled you by your necklace one again and snatched it clean off of you. 

You gasped, snapping out of your lustful trance. “Kuroo!!! My dad gave me that!!” You cried. 

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m your god now, you don’t need a stupid cross, I’ll let everyone know you’re mine.” He huffed, dangling it in front of you, before throwing it out his window. 

The window. The window! 

 “K-Kuroo, how long has that be-been open?” You asked. 

He groaned, slowing down his thrust. “The window? It’s been open since this morning.” He shrugged, fucking into you sloppier and sloppier. 

You felt embarrassed, heat rushing over your being as you held onto Kuroo to hide your face. “O-oh…” you moaned, scrunching your eyebrows together in embarrassment. 

“What’s wrong baby? Are you embarrassed? Are you embarrassed that my whole neighborhood can hear how bitchy, and pathetic you sound? Fuck- Good, fucking cry about it like the stupid bitch you are.” 

Each insult brought you closer to that edge. You forgot all about your previous embarrassment and basked in the bliss of Kuroo’s rough thrusts. 

“Holy shit- Did you get tighter from me reminding you of how much of a—shiiiiiitttt—of a fucking slut you are?” His voice sounded so breathy. You could feel him twitching inside of you. 

And then the dam broke. You could feel your orgasm sparking through you like electricity. 

“Kuroo! Kuroo! Im cumm- Im cumming! Oh Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck! You're so good!”

He revelled in the profanities spilling from your mouth, knowing that before this you probably would have never thought about saying such vile things. 

“Oh thats right baby who’s making you cum on his cock like a dumb bitch in heat? Who’s your god? C’mon, say it, princess.” 

“You! Shit! You're my god! Oh please- It’s too much! It's- It’s too much!” 

He laughed at you. “How many fucking—Fuck baby you feel so good—How many times do I have to tell you this isn’t- Shit- This isn’t for you.” The last part came out as a dark growl. 

“Y-Yes sir! I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah that's a good girl, oh you're such a good slut for me. Shutting up and just taking it. Yeahhh that's a good fucking whore. You want your god to cum inside you? Breed you and fill you up so nice? That what you want princess?” 

Your eyes widened. Nononono he couldn’t! He had to pull out! 

“N-No...Please...” Your voice sounded so weak and tiny. 

“Oh no baby, that was rhetorical. You're gonna sit back and let me breed this little pussy like a good girl who stays in her place, because surely- fuck- you remember your place and wouldn’t talk back, now would you?”

You knew it was useless to deny him. You don’t even know why you tried. 

After a few more thrust there was a particularly hard one. The force of fit knocked you back a bit, but he pulled you back by your thighs so he would stay fully buried inside of you. 

Suddenly you felt nothing but warmth filling you. He was cumming inside you. You could feel him shooting spurt after spurt. You had never felt so full, his thick cock splitting you accompanied by his come pushed you to another orgasm. Your legs shot up and you let out a loud whiny moan. 

“Oh god! Oh fuck! You feel so good filling me up Kuroo- Fuck!” 

“Aww you came again from me cumming in you? What happened to you not wanting it?” He teased. You couldn’t respond, you still hadn’t come down from your high. 

_________

You woke up in an unfamiliar location, dark red walls and black sheets were unlike your pastel blue walls and baby pink sheets. You panicked, until memories of your earlier actions came back to you. You weren't completely calm though, you were sure you definitely passed your curfew and Kuroo was nowhere to be found. 

“Kuroo! I need to get home like— now!” 

He entered the room and laughed. “Oh calm down you big baby, I called your folks and said you’d passed out cause you were so tired. Took some convincing, but they’re fine with you spending the night here.”

You sighed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Speaking of,” He came closer to you. “You down for round two?” 

You felt warmth flood your face and threw a pillow at him. “You pervert!” 

“How am I the pervert when you're the one naked in my bed?” 

He was right, you did feel a cold breeze brush against your cold body as you pulled the covers up. 

“Well then where are my clothes?” 

He winced, itching the back of his neck. “Ya’ see...your skirt is still ripped, but I put your underwear and skirt in the wash. You could wear something of mine though!"

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

[oh-ranpo]

best day ever checklist.

Pairing: Owen Joyner x reader
word count: 7.6k+
an: I originally posted this on a different blog but I’m moving it here! for the sake of this, pretend he’s living in LA again lmao other than that, this is just pure cuteness that I dreamed up : ) let me know what you think!

You really should have known better. Falling in love with your best friend was a disaster waiting to happen. It was the storyline to so many romantic comedies, but honestly, in the real world, things didn’t quite work out the way they did in the movies. Sure, it was a nice thought, but experience had told you that it wasn’t real. It was like fairytales and pixie dust. Things like that just didn’t exist.

So, why would you do this to yourself? It wasn’t like you had done it on purpose, but it wasn’t like you tried to stop it either. The way you fell for him stemmed from a culmination of things. From laughing at his jokes, to laying your head in his lap while you watched movies. From late night drives around the city, to pulling pranks on your grouchy old neighbors that undoubtedly hated your guts. You and Owen were two peas in a pod, and you enjoyed his company more than anything else. However, you couldn’t have him in the way you wanted, and that point was made glaringly obvious when you saw the shared post on his Instagram story that morning.

She was pretty, you couldn’t deny that. Lush blonde hair, perfect eyebrows, and a bright smile almost as captivating as the boy in the picture with her. Almost. You couldn’t stop staring and your stomach wouldn’t stop rolling as you tried to place where you had seen her before. She didn’t look familiar, but if Owen was posting pictures with her, you had to have met her before. Unless he had been hiding her from you. But that was so very un-Owen-like that you knew that wasn’t the case. Her name on her Instagram handle didn’t ring any bells so maybe you had purposely blocked her existence out of your mind because you didn’t want to feel like you did right now. A whole lot of good that did you.

You eventually shoved your phone as far away from you as you could as you laid your head back down on your pillow in defeat. You hated this. You knew that you shouldn’t allow yourself to feel this much sadness over something that really had nothing to do with you, but you couldn’t help it. Your heart ached as you thought about the part of him that this new girl was getting to have, and you pushed your face deeper into the pillow as you let out a low groan.

After a few minutes of wallowing, you finally pulled yourself from your bed and started getting ready for the day. You originally had plans to hang out with Owen and some of his friends, but now you were wondering if that was such a good idea. Would she be there? Would you have to pretend that you were happy all day while you watched the two of them fawn all over each other? It sounded like a terrible idea, but you also knew, deep down, that you couldn’t cancel. You couldn’t let your best friend down just because you had caught feelings. No, you were better than that.

You were just finishing up with your hair when you heard Owen’s ringtone sound from the other room. You had forgotten your phone on your bed, and you hurried back to your bedroom to grab it, swiping accept on his call on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Open your door, I’m outside,” Owen ordered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it, and turned to make your way to the front door.

“Do you have breakfast?” you asked, and Owen scoffed on the other end of the line.

“I know better than to show up at YN YLN’s house in the morning empty-handed,” he replied, and a bright smile spread across your lips as you lifted your hand to release the lock on your door, your hand then falling to the knob to pull it open.

As soon as your eyes met his, he lowered his phone from his ear and held out the brown bag in his other hand.

“For you,” he smiled, and your heart jumped in your chest. You happily took the bag from his hand and then stepped to the side so that he could enter your apartment.

He wasn’t wearing anything extravagant, but he still had a way of stealing your attention with the simplest of outfits. Today, it was a plain white crewneck sweatshirt, a pair of black jeans, and his favorite black baseball cap sitting backwards on his head covering up his soft blonde hair. It had gotten longer recently, and he had yet to cut it, which personally, you were grateful for.

You sighed happily as you peaked into the bag before shutting your front door, seeing that he remembered to get your favorite breakfast sandwich as well as an extra serving of hash browns. You turned to thank him, only to see that he had already made his way to the kitchen, and you quickly followed behind him.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, as he took a seat on one of the barstools at your counter. He looked up at you as he shrugged, his elbows leaning against the edge of the countertop.

“I figured we’d just hang out. You know, the usual,” he replied, and your brow furrowed slightly.

“I thought we were meeting with your friends?” you asked, and almost immediately, Owen’s cheeks turned pink.

“O-oh right. Yeah, they cancelled. Said they couldn’t come. But it’s alright that it’s just the two of us… right?” He sounded a little panicked, which was completely unlike him, as you quirked your head curiously.

“Of course, it is. Why wouldn’t it be?” Owen sat up a bit straighter as he shrugged again, but he didn’t say anything more.

Instead of focusing on his weirdness, you went back to unwrapping the breakfast that he had brought for you, and you moved to take the seat next to him after grabbing a glass of water. You hummed happily as you took the first bite, and when Owen looked over at you, you gave him a tight-lipped smile. He just laughed and shook his head in response.

If you were being honest, you had already forgotten about the Instagram photo. You had forgotten all about the pretty blonde girl and who she could be, because right now, it was just you and Owen. It didn’t matter if there were other people around, and a lot of the time, you liked it better this way. It was like this so often, it was second-nature at this point. It was easy.

“Actually, I was thinking that we could go for a drive,” Owen spoke as he noticed that you were almost finished with your breakfast. You nodded eagerly, excited for a day of just listening to music and driving around the city, one of your favorite ways to spend time with your best friend. In the confines of his car, it was easier to pretend like the two of you were the only ones in the world, and you didn’t have to share his attention with anyone else.

As this thought passed through your mind, you realized just how selfish that was, but you also couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

Once you were completely finished, you threw your trash away and then moved back towards your front door to grab your shoes. Owen was quick to follow you as he grabbed your keys from the table just inside the door, and you smiled gratefully at him when he handed them to you.

The two of you talked a bit as you made your way down to his car, and you were a little surprised to see some bags sitting in his backseat.

“What’s all of that?” you asked, as you pulled open the passenger’s side door and climbed into your seat. Your head turned to look over your shoulder to see what the bags could contain, but Owen had used double bags and even tied the top of them together so that you couldn’t see inside.

“Don’t worry about those,” he murmured, and when you looked over at him questioningly, he avoided your gaze. For a moment, he was back to acting weird, and you still hadn’t figured out why.

“Ooookay,” you replied dramatically before resting against the back of the seat, your eyes peering outwards across the hood of the car. You could feel that Owen was hiding something from you, and you had no good guesses as to what it could be.

But then you remembered his Instagram story.

You tried to pretend like you were just quietly looking out the window, but when Owen started to pull out of the parking lot to your complex, he noticed your sudden silence.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his gazing fixing on you for a minute before pulling out onto the main street. “You’ve been weirdly quiet this morning.”

You should have known that Owen would notice. Owen noticed pretty much everything when it came to you. Well, aside from you being hopelessly in love with him, anyways. While you thought he was acting strange, he was thinking the same thing about you. The irony almost made you laugh.

“And you keep dodging my questions,” you retorted sassily, and you saw his face flush once again. This was not the drive that you had been expecting or hoping for, and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed as you turned back to stare out the window. The music that was playing through the stereo of Owen’s car was the only sound that could be heard as a heavy silence fell over the two of you.

“I swear the bags will make sense later,” Owen offered a few minutes later, finally breaking the tension that had filled the air. It wasn’t like the two of you to argue, and you knew that if you hadn’t seen his story earlier that day, you wouldn’t be reacting to his passive response in this way.

You looked over at him, and when he felt your eyes on him, he glanced over again as he flashed you a small smile.

“I promise.”

You knew that you were being silly getting so worked up over it all, and you took a deep breath as you were ready to expel it away. You didn’t want your day to be ruined just because you couldn’t contain your feelings, and with one last shake of your head in attempt to loosen the grip of the thought from your mind, you smiled back at your best friend.

“I’m sorry, you don’t… you don’t have to explain it,” you sighed, and Owen glanced over at you again as he came to a stop at a red light.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, seemingly sensing that there was something else that you weren’t saying. If you weren’t upset with him about his avoidance of wanting to talk about the materials in the back of the car, he wasn’t sure what could have been causing your rapid shift in mood.

“No,” you answered quickly, maybe a little too quickly, before reaching for the volume control of the radio. “Besides, this is my favorite song. I can’t feel bad during my favorite song.” Owen didn’t miss the way that you admitted to feeling bad in the first place, but he knew that this was indeed your favorite song, and he wasn’t about to ruin it for you.

The two of you sang together for a little while, and by the end of the fifth song, you had caught on to the direction that he was driving. At first, you thought that he had just been aimlessly driving through the streets of L.A., but then you realized that he was indeed heading in a particular direction.

“Are we going to the beach?” you asked excitedly, turning the radio volume down once again just as Owen was in the middle of belting out the bridge to the song that was playing.

“Excuse me, you threw off my rhythm,” he huffed playfully, and you rolled your eyes.

“You didn’t tell me we were going to the beach! I didn’t bring anything with me!” you cried indignantly, though you weren’t really that upset. The beach was your favorite place, and despite whether you were dressed appropriately or not, you knew that you were going to have a good time.

“If I told you it would ruin the surprise,” he murmured under his breath, and when you asked him to repeat himself, he just shook his head. It was just another strange behavior from him to add to the day, but now you were too happy about your ending destination to even think about being upset.

You fell into a comfortable silence as you tapped your feet to the rhythm of the songs on the radio, your eyes watching as the familiar scenery leading up to your favorite place passed by outside of the car window. Owen didn’t seem to feel the need to fill the silence, but that wasn’t uncommon either. You were so comfortable with one another, you didn’t have to be talking the entire time to enjoy the time you spent together.

About fifteen minutes later, Owen was pulling into a parking spot, and you were just about to jump out when he reached over to stop you.

“I need you to stay in the car,” he said as his bright blue eyes met yours. Confusion washed over you as your hand that had just reached for the door handle fell back into your lap.

“But… why?” you asked, as you searched his face for any kind of expression giveaways that you might find there. You were sure, once again, that he was hiding something from you, but you didn’t really know how to feel about it.

“Just trust me, please? I just… you have to promise that you won’t leave this car until I come back for you.” His words were earnest, and you could see the pleading in his expression as he spoke them. He looked nervous for a guy that was just hanging out with his best friend, and you were dying to know why.

“Owen, what-“ you started, but his hand gently squeezed your arm, and the rest of your words died on your lips.

“Promise me.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach as you tried to put two-and-two together. He had brought you to the beach but hadn’t even given you a heads up about it so that you could prepare. Were you actually going to be staying at the beach or was this just the first stop of the day? And why didn’t he want you to get out with him? Was he meeting someone else here? Was he meeting her?

Regardless of how nauseous the thought made you, you knew that you had to do as he asked. No matter what, he was still your best friend and you trusted him until he gave you a logical reason not to. So, instead of protesting more, you slowly nodded, and Owen flashed you a smile before quickly turning away to open his own car door. You watched as he stepped towards the backseat, and then pulled its door open so that he could grab one of the bags. There were three of them, and you were a bit surprised that he only took one, but then again, you had no idea what they were for anyways. Maybe he was making deliveries.

He moved quickly as he shut the backdoor and then hurried in the direction of the beach. He disappeared around the corner of one of the buildings that housed bathrooms and outdoor showers so that you could no longer see what he was doing. Somehow, this made the sinking feeling in your chest even worse.

You tried to push away the thoughts of the pretty blonde girl, but you couldn’t help it. While you waited, you pulled out your phone, and while you knew that you shouldn’t, you pulled up Owen’s Instagram story again. The picture was still there, and you let out a heavy sigh as you clicked on the picture to take you to her profile. If you were going to hurt yourself, you figured that you might as well go all the way.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that the picture in Owen’s story was the most recent picture she had posted. You clicked on the picture to see the caption, and you were a little disappointed to see that it was just a simple sun emoji. There was no giveaway to what kind of relationship they had, and as far as you could tell, it was the only picture she had of the two of them together. So, what were they?

By the time you closed the app, there was a sizable pit that had formed in your stomach and you leaned your head back against the headrest of the passenger’s seat. It had been about ten minutes now since Owen had disappeared and you were starting to grow concerned on when he might return. The longer he was gone, the more your doubts started to build. He had said when he was in your apartment that it was just going to be the two of you, so what was taking so long?

It was another ten minutes before you saw him round the corner again, heading back in your direction. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, and his eyes were focused on the ground in front of him. Your heart stuttered in your chest, much like it always did when you saw him, and when he lifted his gaze to meet yours through the windshield of his car, butterflies erupted in your stomach. He stuck his tongue out at you teasingly, and much to your surprise, instead of walking over to his side of the car, he came to a stop outside of your door before pulling it open.

“Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, and while you had previously convinced yourself that this wasn’t a stop you were meant to get out at, you jumped at the opportunity. You quickly unbuckled your seatbelt, and Owen held out his hand for you to take as he helped you to your feet.

“Seriously, what is going on?” you asked as Owen dropped your hand and closed the car door behind you. There was an odd look on his face now, though he was trying to hide it with a smile.

“I’m going to show you, calm down,” he teased, as he shoved his hands back into his pockets and led you in the direction that he had just come from. You bumped his shoulder as you walked, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket so that he could wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his side. He ruffled your hair slightly, causing you to protest through a fit of giggles, but you didn’t move to pull away. Once again, you had your easy-going best friend back in a position that was so common it was second-nature.

You were so caught up in the sudden playfulness, that you almost didn’t see the set up in front of you. You didn’t see the white volleyball sitting next to one of the beach’s sand volleyball courts, and you didn’t see the basket with a small blanket laid out underneath. It wasn’t until Owen pulled you to a stop and finally dropped his arm back to his side, that you seemed to notice what was going on outside of him.

“What… what is this?” you asked, as you looked from the little set-up and then back to your best friend. He was rubbing the back of his neck nervously, but then gestured towards the paper that was sitting on the small blanket- something that you hadn’t noticed was there just a moment ago.

“If you read that, it might explain it.”

You didn’t completely understand why he couldn’t just tell you, but you were curious enough that you did what he said. When you leaned down next to the basket, you saw two of yours and Owen’s favorite sports drinks and a change of clothes for you. You looked up at him briefly, but he nodded for you to read the letter, and you sighed as you picked up the piece of paper.

Welcome to the best day ever! It read. The first stop on our adventure today is partaking in one of our favorite beach activities: volleyball! While this is stop number one, there will be a total of three stops that will take place throughout the day. If at any point you want to stop and go home… well too bad! Ha, just kidding : ) but seriously… change into the volleyball clothes I brought and prepare yourself for a wild and crazy day.

You didn’t understand. You had no idea why he was doing this. It wasn’t your birthday and you were sure that it wasn’t any kind of special day regarding your friendship. When you looked up at him again, he had slipped off his hat so that he could remove his crewneck to show that he was wearing a tank top underneath it. You swallowed hard as you tried your hardest to keep your gaze fixed above his neck, and when he looked back at you, you raised the paper questioningly.

“This doesn’t explain anything,” you said, and Owen laughed as he leaned down next to you.

“Sure it does. It tells you exactly what we’re doing, and what you need to do. So, take those clothes, head over to those bathrooms over there, and let’s get this day started!”

You gave him another pointed look before looking down at the clothes that he was talking about. They definitely weren’t yours, and for a second, your heart stopped. Did these belong to the other girl? Surely he wasn’t crazy enough to borrow something from her for you to wear… would he? He could be kind of clueless sometimes, and if you really thought about it, you might have believed it. But then, you went to pick them up and saw that they still had tags on them, and you knew that they had been recently purchased.

“How did you know my size?” You asked, as you looked over the tank top and the shorts. You were going to poke fun at him over the fact that the tank top said ‘Julie and the Phantoms’ across the front of it, but you had bigger questions that you needed answers to in that moment.

“You’ve been my best friend forever, YN. You think I haven’t caught on to something like that?” He teased, and you rolled your eyes. Then, another thought occurred to you.

“Not all of this stuff should have fit in that bag from earlier. How… how did you get this stuff here?” Your eyes met Owen’s, and there was a soft look in his eye despite another faint blush flowing across his cheeks.

“You sure ask a lot of questions when I’m just trying to do something nice for you. Could you just go change so that I can beat you at volleyball like I always do?” You scoffed this time as you grabbed the new outfit and rose to your feet.

“You wish, Joyner,” you huffed, and Owen laughed as you turned to head to the nearest bathroom building. You weren’t overly fond of the idea of changing in a public bathroom like this one, but you were also eager to get back to him, so you didn’t waste any more time.

The clothes fit perfectly, and as soon as you stepped back out onto the beach, your mind started working itself into overdrive again. Owen had arranged ‘the best day ever’ for you, and you still had no idea why. By all accounts, you felt like you weren’t the person this should have been meant for, considering the social media post in the past 24 hours. You had no idea what was going on, and you wanted to ask him about it, but he seemed prepared to derail the conversation at a moment’s notice and you weren’t sure that you would get the answer you were looking for.

When you returned to him, he was sitting on the edge of the blanket, his phone in his hand as he looked up at you. A bright smile spread across his lips as you threw your previous outfit on the blanket next to the basket, and you bent over to grab the volleyball.

“Well, shall we battle?” You asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as Owen pulled himself to his feet.

“You’re on, YLN.”

You ended up winning 21 to 16, much to Owen’s disappointment. Or, at least you assumed he was disappointed though he never truly showed it. You knew that he was competitive, but he didn’t seem bitter in the slightest, though you made it no secret that you were happy that you had won.

“Man, if this day is filled with more activities that I can kick your butt at, this really will be the best day ever,” you laughed as you made your way back to the blanket, and when you glanced over at him, Owen rolled his eyes.

“The sun… was distracting me,” he replied weakly, and you playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Just admit it, I beat you, fair and square.”

“I would never do such a thing.”

You reached down to grab the drinks that Owen had brought out of the small basket, and handed the one that you knew he had picked out for himself before twisting the cap off of yours.

“Thanks for this, by the way. My favorite flavor and everything,” you grinned just before taking a long drink. The California sun had been beating down on your for the past hour or so, and you were parched.

“I know it is,” Owen replied gently before taking a drink of his own. It was the little comments like that that were throwing you off because he wasn’t saying them loud enough for you to think that you were meant to hear them, but he also didn’t say them quiet enough that you couldn’t make out the words. For now, you decided to ignore them in hopes that maybe something in the next two stops would help you understand.

“So, where are we off to next?” You asked, as Owen flopped down onto the blanket and you settled yourself down next to him. He looked over at you, his baseball cap now sitting next to him as he carded his fingers through his hair.

“You really don’t want any of this to be a surprise, do you?” He asked, a smile in his voice as you shrugged before taking another sip of your drink.

“I just know you aren’t good at keeping secrets, and I don’t like not knowing what’s going on in that head of yours,” you replied honestly, and you watched as another unknown look crossed his face. He was quiet for a minute, but then he turned his eyes to look back out over the sand.

“Well, whenever you get changed, if you want to, we can head out.”

Your heart jumped in your chest as you reached over to grab the clothes that you had been wearing when you arrived, and you ran back over to the changing rooms. You glanced over your shoulder as you walked, and you just about stumbled over yourself when you saw that Owen had slipped off his tank top and was just sitting on the blanket, shirtless, with his crewneck in his hands. He was looking at something in his lap, you assumed his phone, and you had to tear your gaze away from him before he caught you looking.

You really had to pull yourself together.

You changed a little bit slower this time, and you didn’t allow your thoughts to drift. This day was confusing enough, and you had overthought everything to the point that none of it made any sense. Maybe it was simple. This was just a nice day that your best friend had planned for you. He wanted to make you smile, that was it.

By the time you returned back to his side, Owen had already cleaned everything up, and had it stuffed back in the two bags that he had previously had wrapped inside of each other.

“You ready?” He asked with another bright smile, and you nodded as you followed him back to the car. It was a short trip to the beach, but it was a nice one, and you made sure to thank him as you were walking.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied as he glanced over at you. “It’s just something that I wanted to do.” You wanted to ask him why but once again, you refrained, and just climbed into the passenger’s seat of his car with a soft smile on your face.

Your next stop turned out to be a nice lunch at your favorite restaurant. It had been ages since you had come here, especially with Owen, and you could feel the excitement rising inside you. You had been craving it for weeks, and you were sure the only reason he had brought you here was because he had gotten sick of hearing you complain about how much you missed it.

“Before we go in,” Owen started, his hand reaching out to stop you again as you reached for the handle of the car door. Like at the beach, you looked back over at him, but he was already digging into the backseat for one of the other bags. When he finally came back to the front of the car, he handed you the bag, but started pulling some of the contents out of it.

“Owen, what are we-“ Before you could even finish the sentence, Alex was swiping his baseball cap off his head and quickly replacing it with a black top hat that he had pulled out of the bag. It was soon followed by a monocle, and he also produced the red silk that you knew was one of his bowties.

You had already started laughing, but when you saw the rest of the contents of the bag, you really couldn’t stop. There was a big, black floppy hat, a pair of oversized sunglasses, and a bright red dress that you had never seen before.

“So, you’re going to have to somehow sneak this in so you can change in the bathroom but… fancy lunch date, anyone?” Alex asked, his voice light as you finally managed to look back up at him. There were tears building in your eyes over how much you were laughing, and you couldn’t help but think that he was the most ridiculous person that you had ever met. And you were lucky enough to call him your best friend.

“You’re a crazy person,” you giggled, and Owen shrugged as he turned to flip down his rearview mirror so that he could work his bow tie. “Why didn’t you just have me put this one at the beach?” The question caused him to freeze, and you knew immediately that he hadn’t thought of that.

“It’s more fun this way,” he reasoned, and you rolled your eyes as you wrapped your hand tightly around the handles of the bag and then reached for the car door once again.

“I’ll meet you in there then?” You asked, and Owen nodded, his attention focused on the task at hand.

You felt a little nervous as you walked inside and moved past the host to head to the bathroom. When you came out, you weren’t going to look like the same person at all, and you found yourself wishing more and more that Owen had asked you to do this before you left the beach. Then again, the embarrassment was half the fun and you knew that was why he had planned this.

After doing something competitive, he wanted to do something silly. It was part of the great balance of your friendship, and you appreciated the change of pace. You loved the way your heart was pounding when you stepped back out of the bathroom, now completely unrecognizable to anyone but the person you came with, and one quick glance around, you could see the top hat through the window leading to the patio area, and you chuckled before heading in that direction.

The top hat, monocle and bow tie didn’t exactly go with his crewneck, but Owen was sporting it confidently. You saw a few people glance over at him questioningly, and when you slid into the seat across from him, you earned a few looks yourself.

“You look dashing,” Owen cooed in a fake British accent, and you laughed into your hand as you tried to keep yourself quiet.

“You look pretty dapper yourself,” you managed to get out before erupting in another fit of giggles, and Owen started laughing with you. It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, but you were both having too much fun.

You took your time while you ordered, and Owen managed to keep up his fake British accent through the entire event. You were sure that the waiter didn’t believe for a second that he was from anywhere outside of America, but he was kind enough to keep his judgements to himself. You lost yourself in your little made-up world with him, and even tried out an accent of your own. It didn’t work out.

“Are there anymore random outfits to this day?” You asked a couple of hours later after Owen had paid (you had tried to pay for yourself, but he had managed to coerce the waiter to pretend like your credit card wasn’t sitting on the table next to his) and you were walking back out to his car.

“No, I promise that the clothes you had on this morning will be fine.” While Owen was waiting for the waiter to bring his card back, you had gone back to the bathroom to change back into your regular clothes. A few of the patrons were once again surprised at your change in attire, but just like you had managed to do all afternoon, you ignored them.

Once you got into the car, Owen informed you that the last event wasn’t until later in the evening, so driving around the city was the time-filler activity until then. You weren’t about to complain. After playing volleyball in the sun and then having a nice, filling lunch, you were a little tired and could use the break.

Somewhere in the first half of your day, while you were getting swept away in Owen’s activities, your stomach had started turning over itself every time Owen looked at you. It was something that had been happening more and more frequently when he was around, but now it was becoming more noticeable. His smile would cause an involuntary one to turn up your lips. His laugh would cause your heart to thunder in your chest, and sometimes his hand would brush yours as you both reached for the volume dial when a particularly good song came on, and you would have to refrain from jerking away, feeling electricity spread up your arm at the contact.

He was your best friend, but he was alarmingly more than that now. You wondered if he had any idea what kind of fire he was playing with setting up a day like this for the two of you to enjoy together.

In the midst of driving around to pass the time, Owen would stop at some of the stores he knew to be your favorites, and you would walk around for a bit. It was nice and relaxed and exactly how you would normally spend a quiet afternoon together. You knew that there was still more to this day that he had planned, but if it were to end at that moment, you would have been content.

When the sun started to set, you were informed that it was time for your next, and last, activity. By now, you didn’t really care what it was, because even without it, Owen had given you the best day imaginable. You didn’t even stare out the window to try to figure out where you were going. Instead, you turned up the music and sang One Direction songs to Owen while he sang them back to you. It was perfect.

It had been a long time since you had been to a movie under the stars, but when Owen finally put the car in park, you realized that was exactly what his final plan was. When you saw the sign and realized that it was for your all time favorite movie, the first thought you had was why you didn’t know that it was playing here. The second thought was how sweet and amazing your best friend was for bringing you here so that you could see it.

He didn’t try to stop you now as he quickly got out of the car and then moved to the backseat to grab the last bag. When you moved to join him, he took your hand without immediately dropping it - something that he hadn’t purposely done all day, though he had many times before - before leading you over to an empty patch of grass that was right in the middle of the viewing area. You had a perfect view of the screen, but you weren’t paying as much attention to that now. No, you were too busy watching the boy that you were with.

Owen eventually dropped your hand as he started going through the contents of the new, and last bag. There was a rolled up blanket, a hoody that you recognized as his, some snacks, and a couple bottles of water. Everything you needed for a night like this. You could feel the emotion start to overwhelm you.

He didn’t say a word as he laid out the blanket and then handed you the spare hoody.

“In case you get cold,” he murmured when you gave him a questioning look. Your heart stuttered in response, but you didn’t offer him a verbal one. You watched as he slipped his baseball hat off again, his hands pushing nervously through his hair before he finally looked back over at you.

“Seriously, Owen, what’s going on?” The lightness your voice was gone, and it was replaced with concern. Your best friend was nice and wonderful and all great things, but he didn’t do things like this without a reason. Was he sick? Was he leaving? All negative thoughts filled your mind and you immediately felt like you could cry.

“YN, there isn’t anything-“

“Is it because of her?” You cut off before you could stop the words from flying out of your mouth. You hated that you brought it up. You had managed to push her out of your mind for the last few hours, but now that you were faced with such uncertainty, it was the first place your mind went. Owen only looked confused.

“Her? Her who?” He asked as his hand dropped back down to his side, and your gaze fell to the blanket on the ground. You knew now that you had brought her up, you were going to have to face the truth of it all.

“I saw your Instagram story this morning with Serena. She’s… she’s really pretty, but I just had no idea-“

“No idea?” Owen asked, his voice still heavy with confusion. “No idea about what, YN?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt tears start to build behind them. You wished that the night had ended after your Target run an hour ago. You wished that you didn’t have to deal with this on your ‘best day ever’.

“I had no idea that you were seeing someone.”

Despite being outside and surrounded by people, an eery silence fell over you. Owen wasn’t quick to reply, and the more seconds that ticked by, the more heartbroken you became. Maybe you would need to call an Uber to save you from this night.

“Y-you think… YN, Serena and I are not dating,” he finally managed to stutter a few seconds later. It felt like an eternity, but his words finally gave you the little bit of courage you needed to look back up at him.

In the setting sun, Owen’s eyes looked bluer than you had ever seen them, and your breath caught in your throat. Whatever shock he had been feeling from your words seemed to be fading as panic started to settle on his features.

“Oh my god, you really thought… oh, no, YN. No, no, no, that’s not what you were supposed to think at all!” Your brows furrowed as you stared up at him, but he had started to pace a bit in front of you, making you feel even more on edge. “Have you been feeling that way all day?” You nodded in response to the question, and Owen groaned as he slid his fingers through his hair.

“Owen, please explain to me what the hell is happening,” you insisted, and while you had hoped that he would stop moving, he didn’t.

“Serena- she’s a friend. She’s someone that I met while filming and we… I’ll admit, I guess when I shared it, I was hoping that it would make you a little jealous, but I didn’t think-“

Another wave of confusion flowed over you at his words. He was trying to make you jealous?

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘you hoped it would make me jealous’?” You cut him off, a hardness forming in your voice that you hadn’t known was going to appear. Owen immediately stopped his pacing at the sound, and his wide eyes stared worried back at you.

“It’s not… okay, yes. But it’s not like I wanted it to like, ruin your day or anything. I just… in hindsight, it was a dumb move, I’ll admit. I had this whole day planned for weeks now, and Jeremy even helped me set up the beach thing, and-“ Owen was rambling now, and all you could do was stare back at him while he worked through it. “- well he told me that I should just tell you that I liked you instead of feeling like I needed to do this big gesture, but it isn’t that easy, you know?” He had started pacing now, but you hadn’t missed his words. The blood rushed through your ears, and the world felt like it shifted a bit as they hit your eardrums.

I should just tell you that I liked you.

“You’re my best friend, and I-“

“Owen.”

“-saying something like that has the power to ruin things and I couldn’t stand-“

“Owen.”

“-I mean, I don’t even know if you feel the same way, and if this was all for nothing that’s fine, I just don’t want you to think I lied to you-“

“OWEN!”

Finally, you managed to grab his attention as he slowed to a stop and you were able to step towards him. The expression on his face was a mixture of wild panic and confusion, and you smiled a bit at how cute it was.

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”

It was a bold move, and it seemed to take Owen by surprise a little bit as he didn’t make a move for a solid five seconds after you spoke.

“You… I should what?” He asked dazedly, and you giggled as you raised onto your tiptoes, your hand gently cupping the back of his neck.

“Kiss me.” It turns out, he didn’t need to be asked twice.

His actions mirrored yours as one of his hands came up to rest just under your jaw as you leaned your body into his and he closed the distance between you. His lips were soft- softer than you had imagined they could be- and his thumb brushed against your cheek as gently pulled you closer. Lightning shot through your veins though he was the one grounding you so that you wouldn’t get shocked, and after a few seconds, you could feel him smiling against your lips.

“You should have stopped me sooner,” he murmured when he took a second to pull back.

“I don’t think that I could have, even if I tried,” you teased, just before he leaned in to kiss you again.

Kissing your best friend who you had feelings for was like seeing the Northern Lights for the first time. It was bright and beautiful and you swore you saw colors that you didn’t even know existed before. Owen had set out to make this the best day ever, and you weren't sure that he knew just how well he had exceeded at it. But, you kept kissing him, and eventually you sat down on the blanket for the movie and you kissed him more.

He was perfect, the day was perfect, and the pain you had felt that morning seeing the unknown girl on his story dissipated completely as you knew that the only person that had him in this way was you. He liked you back, and you didn’t have to second-guess it anymore. From the unannounced breakfast, to the beach, to lunch, to wandering around the city together, and now ending your night on a blanket in the park watching your favorite movie together… it was the perfect recipe for your own personal best day ever.

[jarofstyles]

SK8ER BOI III - Heelflip

A/N: AHHH this part is full of ups and downs and even a cliff hanger 😈 buckle up folks. Also, remember this gif for a certain part of this story... you’ll know which one 😉 - n + d

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masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warning: smut, cheating, angst!!

word count: 7.6k

Staying the night over at Harry’s was really nice. Y/N had woken up to him snoring, all cuddled up against her chest. She giggled to herself because she assumed he didn’t do this with many girls. She carded through his hair and kissed his head gently until he decided to wake up, watching him get a little embarrassed, but not too much. Harry had cooked her breakfast and everything and when Y/N showed up at home on Saturday morning her parents were gone. Y/N admittedly thought about Harry all weekend, she’d been sending him astronomy memes and tiktoks that involved cats. She’d also sent a few memes regarding sexual things but... that was cause she thought they were funny. She stayed up all night texting him and she didn’t realize how late it was, but when her alarm went off, she grabbed the first things she could think of. A black shirt and leggings, threw her hair into a bun and denim jacket so she wouldn’t get cold. She didn’t even realize till after she’d left that it was Harry’s shirt.

The first thing that came to Harry’s mind at the sight, was what she had said a few days prior. Seeing her stand at her locker with a few friends, in leggings... he knew she wasn’t wearing anything under those. And upon closer inspection... His shirt. She was wearing his shirt. On top of leggings and no panties, she was wearing his shirt and he felt nearly feral. She shot him a smile when he approached and he struggled to return it. 

“Hey— can I talk to you for a second? It’s about the project.” Harry asked, ignoring her friends. His eyes were dark and he felt buzzing. Fuck, he was going to lose it. 

“Yeah, sure.” Y/N smiled at him and told her friends she’d see them at lunch. Harry definitely wasn’t talking to her about the project, why did he want to talk to her? She followed Harry wherever he was going. Apparently it was the janitor's closet. Y/N squeaked, looking at him with wide eyes though, it was really dark in here. 

Harry covered her mouth to conceal the squeak, “Are you wearing any?”

Was she wearing any— oh. 

“nuh uh” She let out a muffled noise, shaking her head no. Y/N knew that her answer probably meant he was about to attack and by the way his lips fell onto hers with hunger she knew for a fact that he wanted to do something about it. She didn’t think she could get so turned on so quickly. 

“H—Harry, please I gotta go meet up with Timmy..” Y/N mumbled against his lips, “later.. at yours.” Y/N hated to deny him, but it was important that she see Timothée and see what the fuck was up.

“You do? That’s too bad.” Harry smirked, sliding his hand down the front of her pants. Immediately he was met with a warm cunt, fingers pressing up against it to make her moan. He wasn’t going to make her cum. No— he was going to make her frustrated and want to cum so bad she could cry. Then go see her boyfriend. “Gonna go see frenchie and all you’re gonna think about is my hand on your pussy.” He cooed, rubbing at it while he kissed at her neck. He knew she was breathing hard and obviously hadn’t expected this. “Have some fucking nerve... no panties and my shirt?” He growled. “That’s so naughty. I told you what would happen.” He snickered. “Had to check myself.” He licked up her neck to bite down gently. He couldn’t leave a mark yet.

Y/N had to bite back her moans, knowing full well that if someone walked past the closet and found them she’d be screwed. Her breathing was shaky as can be, body reacting positively to his hands against her. She was already a mess for him and he definitely could tell, it was so hot, she swore she’d lose her mind like this. 

“Already do that..” Y/N breathed when he suggested that she thinks about him when she’s with her boyfriend. Of course she does! How could she not when he was filling his shoes so well and making her feel like the hottest girl on earth. Constantly giving her sexual favors and never asking for them in return, it just pleaded him to do this? Fuck. She let out another squeak as he kissed at her neck, grabbing at the back of his head for stability because she felt like she was going to implode. “Daddy, please...” Y/N whimpered, “I’m sorry—“

“Sorry? Are you sure?” Harry murmured, fingers working faster on her pussy. “So sorry for what? Making me hard? Making me think about it all day?” He was obsessed with her cunt and ass and he wanted to bend her over in here. If she wasn’t a virgin, he may have. “And here you are. So wet and throbbing against my fingers. Gonna go see your boyfriend with a wet pussy and my kisses all over you? Gonna be thinking about how I rubbed you good?” He liked that idea. That no one else was giving her that pleasure but him. “You’re beginning to make a mess on my fingers. S’a good thing that you’re coming to my place after school. Maybe then I’ll let you cum.” She was close, clenching and throbbing but he took his hand away. Her whimper of confusion made him smirk, bringing his hand to his face to clean it off. One finger was pressed between her lips. “Suck. Clean off your mess.”

The look of disappointment on her face was hidden by the darkness of the room but her whimper made it clear that she was certainly not happy about this. Y/N felt her cunt throbbing as he pulled away, all leaky and sticky just aching to be touched. She was so close too, and he just—

Before she could even speak his fingers were in her mouth and she sucked on them as if maybe it would change his mind, as if maybe he’d keep going, but once she was done he pulled them away and Y/N was left flustered and horny and to think that she still had to go the rest of the day without getting to cum? Torture. 

He slipped out of the closet with ease and she assumed he was checking to see if anyone was around, he pulled her out behind him and she swallowed thickly. Y/N just wanted to lean up and kiss him right then and there but she couldn’t, instead she was met with Timmy’s voice calling over to her. 

“Hi angel.” Timothée cooed, wrapping an arm around her waist loosely. It was clear he was eyeing up Harry. “Been looking for you everywhere.” Timothée was more so sticking around to talk to Harry, be around Harry. Anything to do with Harry even if his girlfriend was right there.

Harry licked over his lip, smirking slightly. He was a lot smaller than him in both bulk and height. He wasn’t sure why he was eying him up like that, but Y/N was flushed. Harry wasn’t sure why the look felt so weird but he was thinking maybe he was playing the role of protective boyfriend. But something about his eyes made him feel something else. 

“Sorry mate. We were talking about what we were going to work on after school. The project and all that.” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Anatomy. Getting to know all the body parts and whatever.” He knew he was playing with Fire but Y/N was horny and her eyes were looking at him wide. “Got a slideshow to do. You know how it is.” He moved his fingers over his lip and sucked at it a bit at the sides of them, raising his brows at her.

Y/N’s jaw nearly dropped at the audacity Harry had. He really was sucking on his fingers that was just on her cunt right in front of her boyfriend. This was truly Y/N’s biggest nightmare but for some reason she was the last person being focused on. Y/N rubbed at Timothée’s side a bit, trying to get his attention. 

“Let’s go, yeah?” She asked softly, “I’ll see you later, Harry.” Y/N cooed desperately trying to make it seem like they weren’t doing anything conspicuous or strange. Timmy was far too focused on himself to suspect anything. She had walked him over to the garden but outside after they’d gotten their lunch, needing to put some food in her mouth so she wasn’t thinking about Harry. She’d started off with some small talk but then she decided to ask, she needed to know. 

“Know you’re busy with the campaign and all... and I get it, it’s important to you. But we don’t hang out anymore and... if it’s about how I’ve been acting, if you feel pressured to do stuff, I’m sorry.. we don’t have to, just gotta tell me what’s going on yeah? Care about you..”

“There’s nothing going on.” Timothée said simply. Even though it wasn’t the truth. Y/N wouldn’t understand. The fact that he was a huge homosexual and he was struggling with it. The fact he wanted Harry to wreck him in the same way he thought maybe Y/N wanted him to. He worried. He didn’t want to have sex with her. He was more concerned about his campaign and trying to deal with the sexuality thing by himself. “I’m just busy, Y/N. I’m not ready for next level stuff and it’s not your fault. I just have so much going on. The campaign is my priority cause I want to win for this year.” He was worried about spending time with Y/N alone. It was different with her now because she wanted more than just a kiss on the cheek. “I care about you too. It’s not personal. I just want to make sure I win. We can hang out more when I win. I’m sorry if you’re hurt by it and I don’t want to make you upset at all but it’s taking up all my time.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, understanding where he was coming from. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, of course, but she still wanted to know. There had to be something. “I understand, it’s okay... really.” She said softly and offered him a smile, taking his hand. “I can help you if you need me to. Just miss being around you.” The two of them were really close friends when they started dating, they’d always been attached at the hip and liked to do all the same things and liked the same bands and stuff. He always let her dress him up and do his makeup and whatever she wanted really, but she never thought of it as being something to question him about. Maybe he really liked doing that? Regardless, that wasn’t a problem with her, she just wanted the truth from her best friend. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay... you can talk to me about anything, you know? Anything. I meant that Timmy.” She didn’t want to just out him, she wanted him to feel comfortable enough to tell her.

“Y/N... I’m fine.” He grunted. He didn’t like that it felt like she knew something. That it seemed like perhaps she knew too much. He was worried that Y/N would be aware of something he wasn’t ready to have anyone know yet. “You’ve been really pushy and needy lately. I’m sorry I’m not around but it’s frustrating to have to worry about you and my campaign. It isn’t fair to me. You act like there’s something wrong but there isn't anything besides that.” He huffed. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings but it was apparent that she wasn’t getting the hint to leave it alone. “You’ve never been this clingy and I’ve been trying to put our signals that it isn’t a good time right now for us to be together all the time. I have things to do and I’m always tip toeing around it. You always wanna be close and stuff when we’re out with friends and I need some space.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, suddenly going quiet. He really meant that? Was she being too much? She felt like she was giving him optimum time to do his work, they never hung out. She just wanted to see him. The bare minimum. She could just sit while he did whatever he needed to do, but no. That was clingy in his book. 

“Well if you wanted a break from me you could have just said that instead of throwing the blame into your campaign.” Y/N spoke firmly, “never asked to be with you all the time, just wanted to talk to you for five minutes or something— I don’t think I’m asking for much—” 

Timothée huffed. He really wasn’t listening. Even when she was being gentle and supportive, simply asking for him to listen and acknowledge her feelings. 

“Sorry, i'll give you some space.” Y/N spat, picking up her stuff and leaving him sitting out there by herself while she went to go cry in the bathroom. Was she really asking for that much? Was she that unbearable that he needed space away from her?

‘can you come take me home?’

Harry was surprised to see her text. It made his stomach feel weird, immediately excusing himself from class. 

‘Yeah, sure can. Where are u @?’

He felt worried. Especially when he found her with red swollen eyes at the front doors, knuckling at her eyes. His stomach dropped. What the fuck had happened? 

“Hey....” Harry gently grabbed her hand and led her out to the car. Once safely behind the cover of the opposite side of the car. “What’s wrong, bunny? You’re so sad?” He lifted a hand to rub away a stray tear. “Don’t like seein’ sad tears.”

Y/N hated that this was becoming a habit, but Harry was her only friend that would understand. Her other friends all loved Timmy, they all thought he could do no wrong, surely they were all jealous of her and would call her crazy for wanting to break up with him or crushing their fantasy. Y/N also didn’t want to spread rumors, so keeping this between her and Harry was safe for everyone. She looked up at him with glossy eyes and swallowed thickly.

“We got in a fight...” Y/N mumbled, feeling her bottom lip tremble again. “I—I was trying to talk to him about like... what’s been going on and stuff and trying to be supportive about it and he just— he said I was being too clingy and pushy and that it was unfair for me to be asking and I’m not even asking for much! Just wanted to show him I was being supportive... so he could tell me if he felt comfortable enough but he just got mad.” She was rushing through her words, sniffling and trying to get her breathing back in order. “Just want him to talk to me! Want to figure it out so I don’t feel like a shitty friend to either of you!”

“Hey... you’re okay, Y/N. Take a breath.” Harry whispered. “You’re good. That’s a real shitty thing of him to say to you when you’re trying so hard to be there for him.” His anger towards Timmy turner never seemed to extinguish. “Regardless of what he’s going through, he didn’t need to take it out on you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He rubbed her arm. Y/N wasn’t clingy. Maybe when high but, he liked that personally. “You haven’t seen or hung out with him for a bit. If I understand correctly, it’s been a long while since you've even truly talked to him. That isn’t a problem for you, babe. That’s on him.” He smoothed a tear away from her cheek. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less though. It sucks. He’s being a dick.” He obviously was upset about it, his jaw clenched. He wanted to make her feel better. “How about we go get some ice cream? Whatever toppings you want.”

Y/N leaned into Harry’s hand, closing her eyes as she felt herself start to relax. He always knew what to say and just how to calm her down. He was a very good friend. He had been there for her through all of this Timothée shit and was continuously making an effort to make her feel better. She looked at him with wide eyes, wondering if that was a serious inquiry, but it was. Y/N climbed into the car and watched as he drove them down away from the school and somewhere. It seemed to be the skate park, but she assumed that there was ice cream nearby. 

“So you come here a lot?” She asked curiously as they hopped out of the car. She’d left her denim jacket in the car so she was just in her vans, leggings and his T—shirt. Y/N looked like she fit in at the skatepark, especially with him, but she was still nervous about being out of her element.

“I do.” Harry smiled. “The lake isn’t far from here at all. We’re gonna walk down to it.” It was about a block, the fresh air and sunshine seeming to be good medicine for her heart. He had an arm around her shoulders but it was a friendly gesture, their laughing at Harry’s dumb jokes making it clear they were pals. At least. For now. “Alright, I’m buying. All the movies say ice cream cures heartache. So if it doesn’t, we do a class action lawsuit against Hollywood, win, and we can buy all the ice cream in the world.” He was playful, opening the door to the 50’s like ice cream shop. It was cute, pleasing to the eye and he knew the staff. “Alright... hi Barb.” He grinned at the older woman who smiled brightly. 

“Harry! And who is this pretty girl?” She asked with a look of mischief on her face. 

“Relax, Barb. She is a pretty one, isn’t she? But her boyfriend is a bit of a stupid one. So we’re here to fix it up.” Barb could be trusted, and she immediately nodded, taking it seriously. 

“Perfect. What do you fancy? We’ve got every sweet flavor and some not so. The vanilla, the chocolate, but then we’ve got banana, cotton candy, Cookie Monster... all of it.”

Y/N was a bit shy, but smiled at the woman nonetheless. She walked up to the display case and looked through all the flavors, deciding she figured out what she wanted. “Can I have the raspberry white chocolate with graham cracker crust?” Y/N asked softly, looking up at the woman with a sweet smile. She was a gentle creature, anyone who met her would know that. She looked back up at Harry to see what he was going to order, feeling like this was how things were supposed to be. Yeah, Harry was her friend, but they also did other stuff together. They’d been pretty much insuperable since they first hung out. If only she had a way of breaking up with Timmy without completely ruining their friendship. “Thank you, Harry.” Y/N smiled and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, already feeling much better thanks to all his jokes and just his presence in general. 

Harry was excited to spend time with Y/N out like this. Maybe he shouldn’t be. He needed to relax with this but it was friendly, right? It wasn’t romantic or a date. No. This was friends getting ice cream. 

“You’re welcome” He was wondering if Y/N ever would actually consider dating him. Not that he was like, in love or anything. But they got along well. Of course they couldn’t do anything while she was dating escargot, but he was hoping that maybe... we’ll. He had to stop. He couldn’t get attached. At least until she was single and he knew she had any type of interest besides sexual.

----

The ice cream was delicious, but of course Y/N was thinking about how much this felt like a date. They’d both left early from school just to hang out with each other despite having plans to see each other later? Maybe Y/N was over thinking. Harry likely was just being a good friend, he wouldn’t actually want to date someone like her. He was just having fun with her and they were working on their project. Sure, they were calling each other friends but maybe that’s just what Harry wanted to be? He was just a friend who helped her out from time to time. Once they settled down somewhere she let out a sigh, overlooking the scenery and smiling to herself. 

“Thanks for doing this with me... I didn’t think I could stay at school after that, sorry if I pulled you out of something important.”

“You’re good. It was just English and I have my work done for basically the whole semester.” He shrugged. Y/N was more important than a class he already knew the answer to. It did startle him, how quickly he had left without a second thought but he also knew that she was emotionally sensitive. If she wanted to go home, something must have happened to hurt her and he didn’t want her feeling as if she couldn’t trust him. He’s wanted her trust. “I’m sorry that that shit even happened. Can I ask you something though?” He asked. “How come you haven’t broken up with him yet? If he won’t touch you and makes you feel shitty. Cause there’s tons of people who would want to take you out or get to know you. You wouldn't have to worry about being alone.” Including him. Harry would ask her out, if she wasn’t so attached to Timothée.

Y/N should have seen that question coming, should have known he’d want to know why she hadn’t just broken up with him. Y/N let out a sigh, trying to put together her thoughts carefully as to not hurt him or make it seem like she was siding with anyone in particular. 

“I’ve known Timmy for a really long time... he and I have been best friends since like, 8th grade. And... I know how he is and I know how he deals with stuff, throws himself into work and acts like nothing wrong.” Y/N let out a breath, “I really care about him, even if he has been treating me like shit lately and doesn’t touch me, I’m still his friend... and I’m a loyal friend.” She explained, looking up at him before looking away. Loyal, yes, but she’d been cheating on her boyfriend with him. Her other friend. “It’s not that I don’t want to break up with him, it’s that if he’s going through shit like I know he is, I don’t want to just leave him with no one to talk to about it... I always was that person for him, I think he’s just scared of what I’ll think or say or do.” Y/N took another bite of her ice cream and thought for a moment. “I don’t know what to do...”

He could understand that. However he didn’t think Y/N could do anything to help him. “I think that’s admirable, Bunny. But I also think that this is a him problem. Regardless of what you say or do it’ll be his issue.” He said gently. It was hard to make it seem like he wasn’t trying to attack her reasoning. “I’m not telling you what to do, or saying you’re wrong. But, I think you’re putting yourself through a lot of emotional hurt for someone who is only focused on himself right now. And maybe that’s okay for him, but I don’t like you getting hurt. Seeing you upset by him and it seems fairly often. It doesn’t seem like he does the same by you.” He frowned. “Listen— I dunno your bond with him. But I think... relationships and even friendships need equal in and out. Sometimes there’s shifts but it seems like you’re getting nothing out of it, you know?” 

He wasn’t wrong, it seemed that Timothée wasn’t really thinking about her right now and of course that hurt. Friends should always have an understanding at least. Y/N didn’t know of many guys who pushed away their girlfriends when times got tough, but that seemed to be Timmy’s way of coping. Coping with his internal battle that she likely was making him face before he wanted to. She was a reminder to him of what he was hiding. 

“I know you’re right, Harry, but it wouldn’t feel right for me to just throw that on him. I need to talk to him, when the election is over I’ll have time, but right now.... I just need to take it a day at a time. Give him some space and just.. work on finding what works best for me.” That was Y/N’s way of saying that she wanted to keep hanging out with Harry regardless of what Timmy decided to do. Once she got to talk to Timothée and really talk to him, she’d get the truth out of him. She’d help him figure out the best way to go about things and how to have minimal people know if that’s what he wanted.

----

Harry hadn’t meant to upset her. But she had been pushing and wanting sex and he wasn’t ready for that. Y/N had asked him if they could go all the way and he had to redirect to other things but wouldn’t let it go. See— he did want to fuck her. So badly it hurt. But he also was well aware of the fact that she was still a virgin. Still in a relationship. And that was a recipe for disaster. And as much as he had wanted to diffuse the situation, he couldn’t give in to her wants. 

It was obvious it hurt her feelings and she had left after he raised his voice a little— something he hadn’t wanted to do to begin with— but he had to. It hurt him to see her get teary eyed and leave on her bike. But he couldn’t make this better. Y/N was mad he gave her an ultimatum of breaking up with Timmy or no sex. But he thought it was fair enough. It wasn’t fair to him. Regardless if Harry liked him or not, Y/N was still technically his and he wasn’t going to take her virginity when she both belonged to someone else, and would have him getting attached. What if she lived like this forever? 

Two nights later he had texted her and told her she needed to come over because he wanted to talk. He had bought ice cream and weed, got some Chinese food and a little star locket for their friendship. He was going to try and explain it calmly so she could understand. But she left him on read. And that hurt a ton. So he left her alone for a bit because he realized how deep he was getting into it emotionally when she didn’t even want to see him. 

Of course it was a bit weird and shocking to see her at the party he walked into. Sending her a little smile and wave, he walked past even though it hurt his tummy to see her hanging next to Timothée. Maybe he was trying to be better? Regardless. He went to talk to Zayn, allowing girls to come up and chat with him. It would be weird if he didn’t.

Y/N didn’t take rejection well, especially when it came from someone she was starting to really care about. Harry had started off as a friend who helped her out and quickly became the thing she had always wanted and needed Timmy to be. But he wasn’t her boyfriend, he was just a friend, and he didn’t want to have sex with her because well... he didn’t want to get attached.

He didn’t want to get attached to some girl he was messing around with, Y/N, who had clearly shown true colors. Sure it hurt hearing those words from Timmy, but hearing Harry say them hurt even more. She’d been pushy, with both of them and they both rejected her and left her to fend for herself. 

Harry has texted her asking her if she wanted to come over and talk things out, but she really didn’t want to be patronized. She didn’t want to feel like that stupid girl that kept coming to him with the same problem over and over again and expecting him to take it. 

It surprised her when Timothée had called and apologized for how he’d been acting, saying that he wanted to bring her to this party. She at least felt a little better about the Harry situation, thinking that maybe she could get Timmy to open up to her tonight. She’d got all dressed up, a little bit out of character, but she wanted to feel nice for herself.  

Seeing Harry walk in looking seemingly unbothered by their little fight, it made her heart sink. Especially seeing him all smirky with other girls. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if Timmy had actually been paying attention to her, instead he just had his arm draping over her shoulder while he talked to other people.

Harry kept looking over at her. He missed her. It had only been like a week since they’d hung out. But it was the longest they’d been separated. It was at least every other day, if not every day that they’d go to the skate park or get food or go to Harry's place. He wasn’t sad. He wanted to be with her and hang out with her. Instead of the stupid lanky noodle arm wrapped lazily around her shoulder. God. He was angry. He was so bad to Y/N and was ignoring her and he couldn’t even do anything about it. Meanwhile, he’s rejected two girls. They had taken it easily, when he said he wasn’t there to hook up but to just drink. It didn’t feel right to think about touching anyone but Y/N right now. Maybe ever. He hoped that maybe she would want to hang out with him more? Maybe get over this spat.

Y/N excused herself for a moment to go to the bathroom, but she really just went outside to get some air. It was all getting a bit too much for her in there. Between Timmy ignoring her and seeing Harry with other girls, seeing how easily he chatted and let them curl under his arm the way she did, it hurt. It hurt bad. She felt like she couldn’t even be upset about it because it was her own damn fault. Y/N should have broken up with Timmy and then she would have Harry on her arm right now instead, hell, they wouldn’t even be at this party their be making their own party at Harry’s house. Y/N had been drinking a bit, but not enough to get her drunk, she was far too panicked to be drunk. She found a swing set outside and made her way over to it, just taking deep breaths and relaxing herself the best she could. Y/N needed to figure it all out. She hated that her whole life was wrapped around these two men.

Harry saw her leave and despite it all, he followed. He didn’t want her to be alone, just in case. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her but she looked genuinely upset. Of course she was. But he was confused why when he approached, she scowled after him. 

“Hey.” He said quietly. “What are you doin’ out here? The party is inside.” He wasn’t going to be mean to her or be testy. He liked Y/N. A bit too much, unfortunately. Even though seeing her with him made his tummy hurt, he knew that he needed to be there for her when he wasn’t. Why he felt compelled? He wanted to say he had no idea but he did. He was getting attached to her.

Y/N had just started feeling like she wasn’t going to cry when he walked out and of course, he was there to check on her. Of course. It almost hurt more than despite it all he still cared enough to check on her, to notice she had left and knew exactly where she had gone. She was thankful that it was somewhat dark outside, the backyard light only reaching halfway out. 

“Don’t let me spoil your fun.” Y/N shook her head, refusing to look up at him while she pushed herself gently on the swing with her foot. She knew that it was probably annoying for him to have to deal with her crying all the time, she didn’t want him to think that’s all she needed him for. Lord knows she would have given up if she were him by now. Taking a deep breath in, she tried to keep herself from crying too much, not wanting to ruin the light bit of makeup she put on to look nice. She didn’t want anyone asking questions, certainly didn’t want Timothée finding out she’d been crying. But maybe that would be best? Maybe they could finally have a conversation once and for all.

“What do you mean? This is plenty fun.” He took the swing next to her, beginning to move himself on it. Y/N didn’t realize the power she truly had over him and maybe that was a good thing— bur he wasn’t leaning her sad. “Why are you upset?” He asked softly, slowing his swinging down to a slow pace. She was obviously upset by the fact that Timothée was being a dickhead but it was more than that. She seemed upset with him even more so and he hadn’t done much. In fact, he should be upset with her. “Don’t have to cry. Promise. Is it him being a dickhead? Or did something else happen?” Even if he was upset with her a tiny bit, he didn’t want her hurting. It made him sad to think she was possibly upset over something he could fix.

“Aren’t you getting tired of asking me that question?” Y/N asked with a sad laugh, hurt evident in her tone. “Aren’t you tired of me crying to you about the same thing?” She went to wipe away her tears with the sleeves of her cardigan. “Those girls really seem to like you though, so maybe you should go... I’ll get over it on my own... it’s about time I do something on my own for once, right?” Y/N felt responsible for a lot of things. It wasn’t fair to Harry to have to pick up Timothée’s mess. As much as she hated seeing Harry with other girls, he deserved better than her. She was just complaining about Timothée all the time and pushing him to do things he didn’t want to do with her. He just wanted to be friends with her, but she couldn’t just be his friend. It’s true that she always had a crush on Harry, but she was really beginning to like him as more than a friend and he was right about the whole getting attached thing. She’d get attached and be even more clingy and maybe he just didn’t want that with a girl who had a boyfriend. But it wasn’t even like that! It was so much more complicated. Y/N needed to let Harry go, she couldn’t hold him back from living his best life like that.

“The only reason I get tired of it is because he treats you like that. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to be here for you Y/N. You should know me better than that.” Harry murmured. No, he didn’t need to put up with that type of stuff but even still— he wasn’t going to let her stay upset when he could help her. “I don’t really want those girls. I’m not here to hook up with anyone. Zayn and Niall asked why I haven’t been coming out so I came out to get off their back. I usually hang out with you but... you don’t want to hang out with me much anymore.” He murmured. It hurt to think about. Y/N was so lovely and he wanted to be around her all the time but he had hurt her feelings and maybe she didn’t want to be near him anymore. That hurt the worst because he always wanted to be around her. But he couldn’t go further than what they were doing when she was still technically belonging to ratatouilletimmy.

“What?” Y/N shook her head, “no, never said that.” She defended because she most certainly didn’t want him thinking she didn’t want to hang out with him anymore. “That’s far from the truth.” She couldn’t believe she would actually think that she didn’t want to spend time with him, especially when he actually made her feel like she was worth something. Made her realize her worth. “But it’s stupid, it’s the same thing over and over again... just want a fucking break! I’m trying! I’m trying so hard to keep it together. Whenever I hang out with you, everything’s okay, all of my troubles go away and it’s not even your fault! I— I know you don’t want to sleep with me because of him and I shouldn’t let that affect how I view myself, but hearing it from him didn’t hurt as bad as it did coming from you!” Y/N burst, getting up from her swing. “I can’t even be mad at you! I understand! I do! But I’m protecting him and hurting you and by hurting him I protect you! I can’t win!”

“Hold on— hold on a second, Y/N. I want to sleep with you. I don’t know why you think I don’t. I even said we shouldn’t. I won’t, until you’re single. It’s not that I’m not attracted to you or don’t want it. I do, really fucking bad.” Harry responded, crossing his arms. “But it doesn’t have to be this complicated. You don’t have to protect him. He’s a big boy. Just like I am. If you genuinely like being in a relationship with him and I’m complicating that— I would go. But you don’t. I know ya far too well now to know you’re miserable.” He couldn’t let her think that he didn’t want her. But she was making a mistake. “I’m not going to sit here and tell you what to do. You’re a grown woman, you can make your own decisions. I just don’t understand why you keep putting yourself up to get hurt by him when he obviously doesn’t care that he’s hurting you. He’s protecting himself and you’re hurting yourself for nothing.” He stood up as well. God, it boiled his blood. “I told you I can’t sleep with you until you broke up with him because of that. I can’t risk making things any messier. The risk of getting super attached will hurt.”

“And that’s why I said it’s time I deal with things myself!” Y/N raised her voice this time because she wanted everything to stop. “I came out here to think, Harry. You don’t have to understand, I didn’t ask you to come out here with me. You asked me how I was feeling and I told you, so please don’t make it seem so easy because if it were you, you’d understand.” Y/N was firm, clearly angry and upset. “I care about him, and I care about you... a lot. I’m going to deal with this, my way— that includes accepting whatever comes with it. I’m not expecting you to stick around and wait for me, I understand why you made the decisions you made, so please do the same for me.” She couldn’t break up with Timmy without talking to him about everything first, she couldn’t just leave him to deal with his thoughts. If he was conflicted about his sexuality and had no one to talk to and she just left him feeling vulnerable she’d never forgive herself. It didn’t matter how shit he was treating her, he’ll apologize with time, she’d never regret being a good person no matter how much people hurt her.

“You really don’t understand, Y/N. It’s so frustrating to sit and watch you get upset but I’m not going to just leave and not talk to you when things are shit.” It was a bit of a dig at her, to be honest. She ignored all his texts and calls and didn’t answer him at all. “I asked you to come over so we could talk and be chill again. I fuckin— I got food and shit and set up the roof but you left me on read. I thought that like— you’d at least want to hear me out but you’re so in your own head. Don’t you think that I care about you?” Harry asked, getting angry now. “I did have to come out here because you left. You were upset and regardless, I’m not a dick and I want to make sure you were okay. I’m not saying that it’s easy. I’m saying that you deserve more respect than what you’re allowing yourself to be given and regardless of what he’s going through, you don’t deserve to be treated like shit.” He was obviously upset, clenched jaw and stiff form. “Jesus. I keep trying to show you I care about you and you push me away because I say one thing. It wasn’t a rejection. It was a deal. I don’t want you to have to deal with shit yourself. You’ve been doing that for a long time but fuck, you keep pushing me further just like he’s doing to you. I hate that you’ve been ignoring me.” His voice cracked but at the end but he cleared his throat. “If you want to be left alone, fine. You could have told me that.” He squared his shoulders and walked towards the door. He didn’t want to get more angry around her and say something mean.

“I wasn’t trying to push you away! I was upset and I was trying to deal with it on my own, I wasn’t ready to talk, clearly I’m still trying to figure out what to do and—” Y/N felt like it was pointless explaining it to him. “Think what you want.” She was tired, so fucking tired. She landed herself in this mess and was trying to clean it up but she was getting the water all dirty anyway. 

She watched him walk away and took a seat back on the swing, another wave of sobs ripped from her chest. She wanted him back here, wanted him sitting next to her, but she needed to do this on her own and take a hold of it all. She needed to talk to Timothée, but she needed to stop crying so hard first. Seeing Harry like that made her sick to her stomach, she didn’t want to make him mad or make him feel like shit, she just wanted him to respect her feelings cause she respected his. Sure she didn’t answer him, but she had every right to be upset with him and deal with it on her own, she didn’t want to answer him and say something she’d regret or worse. 

She wanted to leave, but she needed to stop running away from her problems. Needed to face them head on.

Harry went up to the bathroom later on. He needed to take a fucking breather. Jesus. He didn’t want to upset Y/N. But it hurts. It hurts to think she didn’t want to talk to him yet because he had always been around to give her support and it felt like the times he wanted to genuinely talk that she was pushing him away. So he got drunk. Tried to forget about it and let go for a little bit but it didn’t work. He was sad. He was upset, he wanted to go home and cuddle her and hide his face between her tits to hide from all the things making him uncomfortable. Figures. The first person he genuinely develops feelings for is dating someone else and doesn’t seem to want him back like that. It hurt pretty bad and he didn’t like this feeling. It just reminded him of why he avoided bonds with a tone he did anything with. Less of a chance to feel this aching in his chest. 

When he got home he collapsed on his bed and went to sleep. He had asked Niall to watch her when he left to make sure if he saw her that she got home okay. But he needed to go to sleep.

A killer hangover greeted him, but he thinks part of it was upset about the last night. That Y/N had went off and seemingly not wanted to be around him anymore. 

It only got worse when he opened his Instagram and saw a dm from none other than Timothée.

-------------------------------------------------

[part 4]

A/N: hehe a cliff hanger!!! The next part will be the final installment. We will still be taking requests for blurbs for them and what not, possibly oneshots, but we shall see - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [82]

xi. ashes to ashes

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: anxiety, blood, injuries, language.

Summary: With Clarke’s life saved, your focus now shifts to how you can save the rest of your people.

a/n: this chapter gave me a lot of trouble when i was writing it, so hopefully it turned out okay! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Clarke falls asleep pretty soon after coming back to life, and you watch her anxiously for a few hours, fighting off your own exhaustion because you’re scared that you’re going to lose her again. Eventually Bellamy offers to keep an eye on her while you sleep for a few hours, and you gladly accept, though you don’t sleep as well as you hoped. You toss and turn for a while, before finally giving up in the early dawn hours, Bellamy and Gabriel the only two in the tent that are awake. Clarke is still resting peacefully on her cot, chest steadily rising and falling, and Octavia is curled up in the corner, sleeping soundly.

You can see Bellamy battling his own fight with sleep, so you urge him to catch up too while you keep an eye on Clarke until she wakes up again. You and Gabriel sit in silence for a long time, with most of your focus on your sleeping family around you, but eventually you decide to break the silence with him. You get up from your shared sleeping area with Bellamy and cross the tent to the other side, sliding down beside Gabriel, both of you exchanging a quick look. His eyes seem to land on the dried blood that is still smeared across your face, and he stands quickly, moving around the tent quietly before he returns a few seconds later with a damp rag. You whisper, “Thanks.”

He nods and settles down beside you again, as you wipe the dried blood from your face. You open your left palm, caked with dried blood as well, and you use the rag to clean it up, inspecting the various cuts across your palm and fingers. Gabriel watches you closely, turning to grab something from a nearby shelf, and once you have your wounds cleaned the best you can, he reaches out for your hand. “May I?”

You nod and offer him your hand, and he turns it over, checking over the wounds before he reaches into the first aid kit that he grabbed. He starts to clean and bandage your hand, quietly asking, “What happened?”

“I was fighting to survive.”

He hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing else, and you sit in silence for a minute until you think of the phrase he said yesterday, the words he whispered to Josephine as she died. You turn to him with a look of curiosity. “‘La muerte es la vida’, what does it mean?”

He turns to you, giving you a long look, and you start to think he’s not going to tell you. But then he takes a deep breath, closes the notebook in his lap, and pushes it aside. “It means ‘death is life’ in Spanish.”

You nod, starting to understand, and he lets go of your hand, now bandaged up and on its way to healing. You check over his work before meeting his eyes again, “I heard a group of your people chanting it when we went looking for our transport ship. Was it your idea?”

“Yes and no.” You give him a questioning look, asking for clarification, and he looks away from you, a faraway expression crossing over his features. “It’s from a poem by Gabriel Alvarez de Toledo, the Royal Librarian of King Felipe V of Spain. It’s about how the soul is buried within the human body, and it only becomes free when the body that it’s chained to dies. As long as the body lives, the soul dies, and when the body dies, the soul lives. The entire meaning is what I stood for, what I sought to deliver when I broke away from the rest of the Primes. Without death, life has no meaning. The immortality of the Primes, and the manipulation of our own people into believing that we’re all gods, was too much for me to handle.”

His words tug at a memory within you, reminding you of Lincoln’s words, passed to Clarke before Finn’s death. “You know, we had a friend on Earth, and he said something similar. ‘If death has no cost, life has no worth’. I’ve nearly died a hundred times, and I’ve watched those I love nearly die a thousand times, so I guess it’s not something I’ve thought a lot about.”

“Almost losing Clarke, it changed you, didn’t it?”

You look at him, nodding, remembering your grief in the days immediately after her death. “She’s my twin. Thinking I lost her was like losing part of myself. My motivations changed after that, and so did the things I cared about. Suddenly, the thing that struck me the most is that I wished I had more time. More quiet moments with her, more moments with just the two of us. I wish I had told her how much I love her and how much she means to me. But because you saved her, I get that chance.”

“I’m not the only one that saved her.” He looks at you, and then he also looks to Bellamy, the one who ultimately delivered the life returning blow. You look over at your fiance, the love of your life, and smile at his sleeping form, and the way his hair is sprawled out across the pillow. You feel Gabriel shift, his eyes moving to you, and he whispers, “I know that look.”

You lift your hand, showing off the ring Bellamy slipped on your finger the day before, peeking out between the bandages Gabriel secured on your palm. “We’re gonna get married. I don't know when, or how, or what’s involved in a wedding, I just know we’re going to.”

You hear Gabriel sigh a little, and you look over at him, taking note of the heartbroken expression on his face. Your voice is softer when you speak this time, “You know, I get why Josephine did it. I get why she brought you back, though I don't quite agree with her methods, and I also understand why you were upset when she brought you back. I understand why you left and tried to stop the Primes from coming back.”

Gabriel whispers, “La muerte es la vida.”

You look at him, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s over 200 years old, and came from an Earth that was entirely different from the Earth you landed on. And then you start to wonder, are human beings the problem? Was Jasper right? “Gabriel?”

He turns to look at you, waiting for whatever you want to say. “Does time help you to do better, be better? 200 years is a lot of time to learn from past mistakes, did it help?”

“No.” The answer is definitive, one he truly believes in. “From what I've seen, time only made most of the Primes worse, not better.”

It dashes your hope a little, and he seems to sense that, because he reaches out and puts a hand on your knee. “But it’s not that way with everyone. Time is what matters when doing better. The Primes are immortal, or believe that they always will be, so they think they have nothing but time to become better people. Self improvement can wait another day, another year, another century. For the rest of us, those that know we’re going to die, lack of time is what motivates us to change. We know that we’re not promised forever, so we work on ourselves constantly.”

You nod, taking in his words, really considering what he’s saying. You still have hope that all of you can do better than you did before, and though Russell and the other Primes have been working hard to change that, you really believe you can change. You really believe that one day, you won't need Wanlida anymore. You thought she was gone once you were accepted into Sanctum, but Russell changed all of that when he tried to steal your twin from you.

But maybe all of you have been going about this the wrong way. You’re all so accustomed to the life of war, and death, and violence, and completely changing overnight and trying to forget all that is impossible. Yet, that’s what you’ve all tried to do. You left Earth one day, slept for 125 years, and when you woke up again, you tried to be completely different people. Maybe doing better, for now, means choosing a less violent path instead of the violent one. Maybe it means only killing those who are a threat to you, not wiping out everyone in your way. Maybe it means learning from the mistakes in your past and not repeating them. 

Your thoughts move around in your head like waves crashing against the shore, washing over you repeatedly, wondering how to be the best version of yourself that you can be. You and Gabriel sit in mutual silence for a while, only moving when Octavia wakes and goes to sit outside for a while. You give Gabriel a smile as you stand and follow her, moving out of the tent and plopping down onto the grass beside her. She smiles at you, genuinely happy to see you, and you return her smile with one of your own. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

Octavia shakes her head a little, “I know, but right now, there’s only one thing I care about.” 

She reaches for your bandgaed hand, and the sapphire ring that peeks from beneath the white gauze. She turns to you, inquisitive, her expression serious. “Is this my mom’s ring?”

Her expression scares you a little, because she seems upset, and you start to worry until you realize that this ring might be the last thing the Blake siblings have from Aurora, and maybe Octavia wants it for herself. You nod and immediately reach for the ring, intending to give it to her. “Yeah. Bellamy proposed to me in the cave, but listen, this ring belongs to one of you, not-”

Octavia laughs softly, stopping your hand, a huge grin splitting her face. “La lune, this ring belongs to you. It always has. Mom told Bellamy to give it to someone that captured his heart, and that’s always been you. It’s a family heirloom, but you are our family.”

You smile at her, reaching over to pull her into a fierce hug. She hugs you back, and when she pulls away, there’s a smile on her face. “I can’t wait for you to officially be my sister.”

“Me either.”

The two of you sit together in silence, just enjoying each other’s company, ignoring all of the shit you’ve been through since you last saw each other. It’s not long before Gabriel comes out of the tent and asks you if you want to help him gather food for breakfast, and you agree, eager to stretch your limbs and explore a little. By the time you both return, Bellamy is awake and waiting for you. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” He plants a soft kiss on your lips, and for a second, you can pretend you’re somewhere nice, like back in Shallow Valley. You can pretend you aren’t in a tent in the middle of the woods on a moon that has caused you nothing but trouble since you landed. When you pull away, you offer him the food you and Gabriel gathered, and he takes it with a smile of thanks, the two of you sitting and enjoying it together in companionable silence. 

As you’re eating, Clarke starts to shift on her cot, clearly dreaming, before she jumps up suddenly, wide awake. She looks around frantically, eyes searching for you as you sit just outside of her line of vision, and you jump up and immediately head over to her, dropping by her side with a smile. “You’re okay, you’re still here.”

“Thanks to you.”

You shake your head and add, “Not just me. Bellamy and Gabriel and Octavia too.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Only a few hours.” She nods, and as you look down at your twin sister, you get hit with an overwhelming rush of guilt. “Clarke, I’m so sorry. I knew you were a target and I didn’t protect you. I didn't fight hard enough for you after we found out they killed you. I should have done more.”

She sits up now, coming face to face with you, her expression serious. “La lune, you saved me.”

You feel tears spring to your eyes, aware that the words are her way of saying you have nothing to be sorry for. Her words are forgiveness. You smile at her and she smiles back, and you hear the sound of movement behind you before Bellamy walks up and drops down beside you, his voice low as he asks, “Question is, how do we save everyone that we left behind?”

“If you didn’t leave them behind, I’d be dead. They all would, Madi, Raven, our mom. Josephine would've made sure of it.” She locks her gaze on Bellamy, focusing her reassurance on him, “Your plan was good.”

“My plan was to use Josephine's mind drive to bargain for peace, and now there's no mind on the drive.”

She looks between you both, “We don't need the mind drive, we've got me.”

You and Bellamy both start to protest immediately, but yours win out over his. “Clarke-”

“No, no way.”

She locks eyes with you, trying to get you to understand why she wants to do this. “If we don't give Russell his daughter back-”

You cut her off, not even open to hearing her reasons for wanting to waltz back into Sanctum as Josephine. “Clarke, as soon as he realizes you're not her, which will be the second he checks the drive, you're dead.”

From behind all of you, Gabriel calls out, “So let's put it back in.”

This time when you and Bellamy both voice your protest, your fiance is louder, speaking up to get his point across to Gabriel. “That's not happening. We appreciate what you did for us, but these are our people. We'll take it from here.” 

Clarke shakes her head, “This isn't just about our people, Bellamy.”

“Well, it is for me.”

She looks at you, eyes pleading, and as much as you want to be on her side, you don't want to be on her side for a plan that puts her right back in the lion’s den. A plan that makes it hard for you to protect her, meaning you could lose her again. That’s not something you’re willing to risk so soon after getting her back. So you meet her eyes, shaking your head, your tone final. “No, we just got you back. I’m not risking your life again.”

She looks like she wants to argue further, but Octavia steps back into the tent for the first time all morning, interrupting the conversation. She sees you, Bellamy, and Clarke sitting in an aura of tension, and she looks around at all of you awkwardly as she asks, “Good, everyone’s awake. So what’s the plan?”

You stand first, facing the your future sister. “Without Josephine’s mind drive, we have no plan. Which means it’s back to the drawing board.”

You wander over to the table in Gabriel’s tent, the one with a collection of maps and charts and sheets of information sprawled across it. You start to immediately pour over the documents, and Bellamy and Clarke eventually wander over to do the same, all of you trying to figure out a plan that gets all of your people out of Sanctum alive. Gabriel and Octavia are the last to join you and begin to brainstorm, and all of you stand around the plans in silence until Clarke looks up at Gabriel in confusion. “You're a Nightblood. You could walk through the shield at any time and lower it. Why haven't you?”

Octavia answers for him, “Because he doesn't want to kill the people inside. He wants to save them, and they'll die to protect the Primes.”

Bellamy cuts back, “Then they die. I'm not letting our people get executed because theirs are delusional.”

You cut a look at Bellamy, your voice a low warning, “Bellamy.”

You know he’s angry and worried, and you get it, because you’re angry and worried too. But that doesn't mean he should take that out on the people of Sanctum. They may seem delusional to all of you, but the Primes spent 200 years indoctrinating their people into thinking that they’re gods. That’s not the believer’s fault, it’s the Primes fault.

Gabriel ignores Bellamy’s quip, and turns to Clarke to answer her question. “I don't have the code. I couldn't lower the shield if I tried.”

“What about Ryker?” All of you shift your gaze to Bellamy, listening to his questioning for Gabriel. “He built it, and he helped you escape. Go to him, you lower the shield, we do the rest.”

“Ryker won't help us. He left my cell door open to stop Simone from burning me at the stake, but he wouldn't help me stop the resurrections.”

A look of horror passes over all of your faces as he casually mentions the fate he nearly suffered, and you whisper, “They were gonna burn you?”

“That's what you do to demons.” You shake your head, not understanding how his distaste for being resurrected was enough to have him labeled as a demon. “I destroyed the embryos. We landed with a thousand, genetically engineered with what you call Nightblood to protect against solar radiation.”

Clarke mutters, “That's why hosts are so rare, why Josephine started oblation.”

“Oblation?”

“Null babies, which are those born without the Nightblood gene, are left out in the woods to die. Josephine convinced people it would be a sacrifice to the Primes, but really she just didn't want the nulls to weaken the bloodline further.”

You look at your twin with horror, realizing that the woman that tried to steal her body was insane. And then you turn to Gabriel, realizing he was in love with a woman who left babies outside to die, all because she wanted another Nightblood host to brainwash and bodysnatch. “Oh my god.”

Gabriel cringes a little, clearly just as upset by the idea. “I didn't think she would take it that far.”

“So your nonviolent revolution made things worse.”

You all glance at Bellamy, who seems to have no remorse for Gabriel and the things he’s been through. You cut him a look, trying to figure out what’s gotten into him that’s made him so angry with Gabriel, who despite everything, has been nothing but helpful to all of you. Octavia turns to her brother. “Bellamy, he doesn't want to kill his own people.”

“Why not? You did.”

You turn to look at Bellamy, shaking your lead a little, voice slightly incredulous, “Bellamy!”

He glances at you, shaking his head, clearly not in the mood. “No. I don't need a lecture on moral relativity from the Queen of Cannibals.”

Octavia gives Bellamy a shocked look, before motioning to the door of the tent. “Can I talk to you outside?”

“No.” She seems surprised by his answer. “You know what? For once, O, you're not my biggest problem.”

“Please?”

She flashes you a pleading look before turning and heading out of the tent and back into the woods, and you put your hand on Bellamy’s arm, trying to channel some calming energy to him. “You have to face her sometime. Go, we'll keep thinking.”

You can tell he doesn't want to go, but he does anyways, nodding at you before stepping around the table, heading for the door. Before he can get there, Gabriel stops him by stepping into his path. “Your sister's special.”

“Well, that's one word for it.”

“I'm serious, Bellamy. She went into the Anomaly and came back. No one's ever done that before.”

You give Gabriel a confused look, “The Anomaly?”

“That sound you hear.” He pauses so you can all listen, suddenly aware of a continuous buzzing sound that hasn’t stopped from the moment you arrived at the camp. Underneath it all, you can hear the static and quiet transmissions from the radios, no one outside to listen for their messages. “It’s the great mystery of Sanctum.”

Gabriel turns away from you, and back to Bellamy. “Look, she didn't remember anything, so I gave her red sun toxin to help her see. She chose to look inward instead.”

“Red sun toxin? But there was no eclipse.”

Gabriel answers your twin, motioning to the air all around him. “The toxin's everywhere; in every leaf, in every tree, the soil, the rocks. Over time, we found other ways to harness its power.”

“You weaponized it, didn't you?”

“Simone did as part of her adjustment protocol. My research was focused on an antitoxin. The discovery that intravenous use produced a waking dream was a happy accident.”

As the information washes over all of you, you hear a strange sound outside, followed by Octavia’s slightly concerned voice. “Uh, Gabriel, your friends are here.”

All of you exchange a worried look and Bellamy immediately heads to the exit of the tent, worried about his sister, despite their strained relationship. You jog out after him, stepping outside just as Bellamy pulls his gun out, pointing it to the scene in front of him. Your eyes shift to the perimeter of the camp, where a large group of the Children of Gabriel stand, a collection of weapons pointed at Octavia, Bellamy, and now you. Octavia calls out, “Don't shoot! We're on the same side.”

She glances over her shoulder at her brother and mutters, “Bellamy, gun down.”

He sets his gun on the ground, and the two of you lift your hands in surrender as the leader of this particular faction quips, “Same side, huh? They were with Josephine in the cave.”

You hear the tent move behind you, and they all shift their weapons towards the entrance, growing tense as soon as they see who it is. You don’t even need to turn around to know that it’s your twin, and the group confirms it a second later when they yell, “Hey! It’s her! Josephine Prime!”

You and Bellamy shift in front of Clarke, blocking them from shooting at her, as you both yell, “No, no, no! It's not her!”

Octavia calls out towards the tent, “Gabriel, we could use a little help.”   

There is a moment of tense silence as everyone awaits Gabriel’s exit, and seconds later he slips out of the tent. One of the people in the front of the opposing group lowers their weapon and takes off their mask, staring at Gabriel in confusion. “Xavier? Xavier, brother, get out of the way.”

Gabriel stops in front of you, Clarke, and Bellamy, serving as a shield between the three of you and the weapons trained on you. “Layla, it's okay.”

Beside the unmasked woman, a man takes off his mask, the same man you identified as the leader of this group. Gabriel turns to him, voice calm. “Nelson, put the weapon down. All of you, weapons down. That's an order.”

“You don't give orders. Where's the old man?” Nelson steps forward, challenging Gabriel, and when Gabriel doesn't answer, he turns to look at the unmasked woman, Layla. “Layla, search the tent.”

Layla starts to step away from the group, towards the tent, but Gabriel stops her. “The old man is dead. So is Xavier.”

They seem to sense the double meaning of his words, because Layla looks shocked, and Nelson looks pissed. He walks towards Gabriel, voice shaking. “On your knees.”

Gabriel does as he’s told and sinks to his knees, his hands half held up in surrender, and Nelson walks closer to Gabriel, hesitant, afraid of what he might see. His expression drops a little when he sees the scar on the back of Gabriel’s neck, but he hides his disappointment behind a neutral expression. “Gabriel.”

Layla, however, does not handle it as well. As soon as the name leaves Nelson’s mouth, her face twists into anger and she stalks towards Gabriel, swinging the butt end of her gun towards him, hitting him across the face. “Traitor!”

Nelson grabs Layla and pulls her back, and she fights against him the entire time, trying to reach Gabriel to hit him again. He yells at the others in the group, “Get them inside the tent, now!”

They comply, pulling Octavia to her feet and pushing her forward, and each of them train a gun on you, motioning for you to walk inside the tent ahead of them. Gabriel leads the way, stepping inside and dropping to his knees first, and you and Clarke drop behind him, and the Blake siblings drop behind the two of you. A second later, the tent flap parts, and Nelson and Layla step inside, ignoring everyone and focusing solely on Gabriel. “Explain.”

“I didn't want this. I loved Xavier like a son, you know that.”

Layla snaps, “Don't say his name.”

Nelson glances back at her, “Layla, if you can't handle this, maybe you should wait outside.”

“I'm fine, I need to hear this.”

They all turn back to Gabriel, waiting for him to continue his explanation. “Eduardo brought me back without my consent.”

“Eduardo's been dead for years, killed by Sanctum guards around the time the old man disappeared.”

“It wasn't the Sanctum guards.”

They all look at Gabriel in shock, trying to comprehend the level of his betrayal. Layla chokes out, “Ten years? He's been lying to us for years, letting me call him brother?”

“He's still our leader.”

“No, he's a traitor and a Prime! He could've told us the truth, but instead, he let us think we were abandoned. Now, give me back the gun and let me end this once and for all.”

Nelson pulls out the gun and holds it out to Layla, and Bellamy senses the shift in the changing tides, aware that all of you are seconds away from death. “Wait, if this is what you really want, at least wait until he delivers the bomb.”

You turn to look at him, brows pulled together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Layla snaps at you, “Shut up!”

Bellamy gives you a look, one that is begging you to trust him, so you nod, letting him know you're with him, whatever his plan may be. “I'm talking about weaponized red sun toxin. Gabriel's a Nightblood, he can walk it right through the shield and deploy it. Once it's in the air, he finds our friend Raven. She'll bring the shield down for the rest of us, and we use the chaos of the evacuation to rescue our people. You kill the Primes. That's how this ends.”

Nelson nods, “It's a good plan.”

“Come on! You trust them just like that?” Layla looks at him in complete disbelief, but Nelson shakes his head, pulling out his sword. “No, but I will…”

He trails off, holding the sword out to Gabriel, motioning towards Clarke. “When he kills Josephine Prime!”

Your stomach drops, hard and fast, a wave of nausea rolling over you as you realize the danger that Josephine brought onto Clarke still isn't over. Despite the lack of mind drive in her head, she’s still got a target on her back. You look between Nelson and Layla, voice loud and cracked with desperation. “She's not a Prime!”

Clarke shakes her head, sounding much calmer, despite her inner fear. “I'm not Josephine.”

“It's true, Josephine's gone. I took the mind drive out myself.”

Layla snaps, “He's protecting her! How much more proof that he's a traitor do we need?”

You remember your Grounder knife, still tucked within the waistband of your pants, unchecked by the captors in the room. You lower your hands, prepared to grab the knife and end this. Because if they kill Clarke, if they murder your twin, any desire to do better is done. You don't care. You will not let her death go unavenged a second time. You will kill everyone in this room before they even know what’s happening, and you won’t feel an ounce of grief for them. 

You feel Bellamy’s eyes on you, and from the corner of your eye, you catch the subtle shake of his head that he gives you. But you ignore it, your eyes locked on Nelson, who has now moved to stand in front of Clarke. He holds the sword to her throat, and you feel your hand skim the waistband of your pants. Just as you’re about to strike, Gabriel yells, “If you kill her yourself, I won't build you the bomb.”

The two men stare at each other for a long moment, and you don't move your hand until you see Nelson lower the sword, done with his threats against Clarke. Gabriel nods. “Good. First, we gather the toxin. There's a cave on the way to the Anomaly.”

Layla glares at him, motioning between him and Clarke. “You're not going anywhere. Neither is your long lost friend.”

“We can do it.” You all turn to look at Octavia, who is pointing at herself and then Bellamy. “Just tell us what to look for.”

Gabriel starts to stand, and a room full of weapons turns towards him, ready to wipe him out. He motions to the table behind him, where his notebook and pencil lay waiting. “I just need to sketch it out for them.”

Nelson motions for everyone to lower their weapons, and you all follow Gabriel to the table, leaning around to watch him as he works. He sketches out a rough map and a picture of a mushroom, sliding it over it to the siblings. “It’s not far from here, and it's a cave full of bioluminescent mushrooms. They have some of the highest concentration of the toxin, so you’ll need the antitoxin.”

As Gabriel goes to grab the antidote, Bellamy shifts closer to you, keeping his voice low enough that only you can hear. “Are you coming with us?”

You glance around, noting the tension that still hangs in the room, the Children of Gabriel all still clutching their weapons. You turn back to Bellamy, keeping your voice just as quiet. “I want to stay here with Clarke. I don’t trust them not to hurt her.”

He nods, and you can see the disappointment on his face, likely because he wants you to go with him and Octavia to ease the awkward tension between the two of them. But he also understands that someone does need to keep an eye on Clarke, because she is still in danger. Gabriel brings back the antitoxin and gives it to the siblings, both of them ensuring they don't hallucinate on their way to retrieve the toxin, and then Bellamy gives you a quick kiss goodbye before he follows his sister out of the tent and into the waning afternoon. 

The other Children of Gabriel, Nelson included, leave the tent too, spreading out around the camp, in case any of you try to leave or in case the Sanctum guards find you. The only person that stays behind is Layla, ordered to by Nelson, so she can keep an eye on you, Gabriel, and Clarke. Gabriel flits about the cave, gathering supplies, and you and Clarke help when he asks for assistance, but mostly the two of you just stand back and let him work. As he moves, he speaks out loud, mostly to himself but also to the two of you. “A device like this was one of the reasons I left. I wouldn't build Russell his bomb, and here I am building one for you.”

He laughs a little to himself as he twists a strand of wires together. “Nevermind me, I'm rambling. Your friends should be at the cave by now. You know, it's too bad they took an antitoxin, because that is one sibling relationship that could use a good guided hallucination.”

You nod in agreement, about to offer him a brief backstory on the damaged sibling relationship, but Layla creeps out from the shadows, fixing her glare on Gabriel’s back. “Yeah, be a shame if one of them was murdered before they worked it out.”

At first, you think the sentence is a threat, a reference to the fact that Bellamy and Octavia are about to be killed. You tense up, running through the ways to save them in your head, but that all goes away when you see the look on Layla’s face. You remember her words to Gabriel when she first saw him; Xavier, brother, step aside. At first you thought it was just a term of affection, the way you call Octavia your sister, despite having no blood relation, but you see now that Xavier, the man that became Gabriel’s host, was Layla’s brother.

Gabriel turns around to face her, looking just as heartbroken at the loss of the young man. “Layla, I'm-”

She cuts him off with a sneer, “Don't you dare apologize.”

He nods, respecting her wishes, stepping away from the bomb slightly so she can get a better look at it. “This bomb. If the Primes have one, then why haven't they used it on us?”

“I don't know. Probably because turning us into raging killers isn't in their best interest.”

“Then what's it for?”

“Josephine and Simone were intrigued by a pattern in the visions of those who survived being caught out in the eclipse. Despite my best efforts to stop them, they started leaving test subjects outside to study it.” You shake your head, continuously reminded of how truly awful the Primes are, despite Russell’s insistence that the rest of you are bad people and they are not. “Now, not surprisingly, believers in the divinity of the Primes invariably reported seeing us as gods or as angels. What interested the Lightbournes more was that the aggression response of the faithful was almost always aimed at the less devout.”

The realization hits you first, and your voice is a little breathy with shock. “Believers killing nonbelievers.”

Gabriel nods in confirmation, and you share a look with your twin, her face pulled together with worry. She mutters, “Josephine was right, this is Mount Weather all over again.”

You think of the Mountain from Hell, where you nearly lost your life on multiple occasions. You think of the people you killed there, the death you witnessed, and the lever that left a mountain full of innocent people dead at your hand. You shudder as Clarke continues, “That bomb won't just cause chaos, it'll cause a massacre. There has to be a better way than using a massacre as a distraction to get the shield down.”

You remember the emotional toll that Mount Weather had on all of you; you, Clarke, and Bellamy, and you aren't eager to relive the sins of the past in a new way. But before you can question Clarke further on what she’s thinking, Gabriel turns to face the two of you. “Look, if you're worried about your people, they'll be fine. We put in wall restraints to fend for themselves as soon as the early warning system is triggered and evacuation begins.”

“I told you, I'm not just worried about-” She cuts herself off, a look of realization passing over her face, and she whispers, “The early warning system. The insects are affected by the toxin first, that's why they're in tanks all over Sanctum.”

Gabriel nods, plopping down into a chair to continue his work on the bomb, barely looking her way. “I'm aware, it was my idea. What's your point?”

You and Clarke stand at the table stretched out in front of him, and Layla heads for the door, uninterested in the rest of this conversation. Clarke continues, “We use less of the toxin, enough to affect the bugs, but not the people. Just enough to trigger the evacuation. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” He stops what he’s doing to meet her eyes, trying to convey the weight of his next sentence. “But without the chaos, I won't have time to take the shield down. Your people will still be prisoners, and the Primes will still be Primes. We will kill some bugs, though.”

“So, we take down the shield first.”

You know exactly where this is going, and you turn to look at her, ready to object, while Gabriel still looks at her in confusion. “First, as in before the evacuation, while everyone's still at home?”

“Clarke, no.”

She turns to you, insistent. “I can do it, la lune. This is how we can do better and not kill everyone.”

“No, this is-”

Gabriel cuts you off, looking between the two of you with bewilderment, completely lost. “What are you two talking about?”

You and Clarke answer at the same time, “Josephine.”

Realization passes over his face, and Clarke reaches out to take your hand, tugging on it to get you to look at her. “I know Josephine. I know how to be Josephine. I spent enough time with her in my head to fool Russell. And this is how we honor Monty.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes at the thought of losing her again. But she gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand. “I know you’re scared and worried that you're going to lose me again, but you won’t. I have to do this to save Madi and Mom and our friends.”

You consider the options: mass murdering the people of Sanctum though they are guilty of nothing, or letting your sister walk right back into the lion’s den without you. And at the end of the day, you know she’s right. You know that Wanlida isn't who you want to be, and though she’s going to stick around for a while, small steps in the right direction are the way to retire her for good. Learning from your past mistakes is how you retire her for good. You give your twin a look, sighing as you do. “Fine. But the second things start to go south, I want you out of there. Deal?”

“Deal.” With the two of you in agreement, Clarke turns to face Gabriel. “Think you can get your Children to let me go with you?”

“It's doubtful, they're not gonna like it.” He turns to look at you, gaze serious. “Neither is Bellamy.”

“I’ll handle Bellamy. You just worry about getting this right.”

He nods and starts to change the machine up, working to adapt it to this new plan, and you and Clarke hang around, watching, helping, waiting for the Blake siblings to return. It’s a couple of hours later when they come back, the suns now set and the sky outside covered in darkness, and as soon as they come in and hand over their bags of toxic mushrooms, Gabriel takes it over to a tank with gloves, just like the one inside the bunker that held the worms, and places the toxin inside. As he slides his arms into the gloves and starts to get the toxin ready for the device, he explains the new plan to the Blake siblings, informing them both that he is no longer building a bomb. 

Octavia absorbs the information quietly, but Bellamy looks at Gabriel, incredulous. “What do you mean, you're not building a bomb?”

“Releasing it in the water will cause it to aerosolize at a lower concentration. We'll trigger an evacuation without inducing a mass psychosis.”

Clarke adds, “In other words, no innocent people die.”

Octavia looks over at Gabriel, curious. “How long until they realize there's no eclipse and turn around?”

“Not long enough. We'll need to be inside before it starts, which means-”

Bellamy cuts Clarke off, finishing her sentence for her as he realizes where the plan is going. “Which means the shield needs to be down before it starts.”

“Can you do that without a distraction?”

Bellamy, still ahead of the plan, deadpans, “It wouldn't be him.”

Clarke’s voice is soft and pleading, begging Bellamy to understand, “Bellamy, it's the only way.”

“What is?”

Clarke shifts her gaze to Octavia, answering her question. “I go as Josephine.”

“It's not the only way, because we’ll use the bomb as planned. Risking your life when we don't have to is just-”

You cut him off, finishing his sentence, “Is how we do better.”

He turns to you, a look of disbelief etched into his face. “You’re okay with this?”

“Not really, but we don’t have much of a choice. I don't want to take innocent lives, do you?”

His expression softens, his voice dropping to a whisper, “You know I don’t.”

“Which is why we let Clarke go as Josephine.”

You can see him starting to come around, and he shifts his attention to Clarke, his earlier anger and disbelief already disappearing, now replaced with concern. “Clarke, if you fail, if Russell figures out that his daughter is dead, then all our people are dead too.”

“So I won't fail.”

He gives her a look, but Octavia speaks up in defense of Clarke, adding her agreement. “Bellamy, if we can spare innocent lives, we should.”

You look over at Octavia, a changed woman, and smile at her, proud that she finally sees the error in her actions as Blodreina. But none of you get the chance to continue the conversation further, because a distant hum reaches your ears, steadily growing louder as the Children of Gabriel outside start to yell, “Hey, what's that?”

“Sanctum riders!”

Everyone in the tent exchanges a worried look, and you rush to the exit, stepping outside and watching as the light of the motorcycles bounces across the terrain, growing closer. Nelson turns as soon as he sees all of you standing outside, and he yells, “Get them back inside! I want them tied up and gagged with the Primes!”

Two men usher you all back inside, and Layla steps into the tent a second later, gun in hand. She motions for all of you to move apart, “Spread out, and don't resist. I have orders to kill you if you do.”

You all spread apart, keeping still as they force a gag into your mouth and secure it at the back of your head. They push you down to the ground and tie up your wrists and feet, before moving around the room and doing the same with the others. You and Bellamy are tied up close to each other, both of you leaning against the same table, and Clarke is tied up across from you. Octavia is off to your left, near the edge of the tent, and Gabriel is to Bellamy’s right, leaning against the furniture. Once all of you are secured, Layla stands in the middle of all of you, shifting her gaze from one person to the next, waiting for you to make a move so she can shoot you. The two guards leave to join the others, and you’re only tied up for a few minutes before the sounds of gunshots ring out from outside. 

Layla heads to the entrance of the tent, poking her head outside to watch the fight, and as you all sit waiting, you hear a strange scratching sound from the back of the tent. You turn that way, eyes watching as a blade sticks through the material of the tent, dragging down to the bottom, creating a slit in the fabric. You all tense up, unsure who’s about to come inside, surprised when it’s Murphy’s head that pokes through. He steps inside, followed by Jade, a gun in her hand. Murphy steps into the middle of the tent, while Jade sneaks around the back, ducked behind the debris and mess, and once she’s in position, Murphy calls out to Layla, “Hey there.”

Layla spins around quickly, instantly lifting her gun and aiming it at Murphy, but Jade sneaks up behind her a second later and hits her with her rifle, knocking Layla out. Jade grabs Layla’s dropped weapon as she walks past, moving carefully before dropping down in front of Clarke. “Josephine?”

You see Clarke’s eyes shift to you, and you nod your head a fraction of an inch, letting her know she should go through with it. Despite the alarm and fear that you feel, despite the worry that none of you planned for Clarke to get taken from you this quickly, before a solid plan was even decided, you know this is the right move. Clarke looks back to Jade, the exchange unnoticed, and nods. Jade puts the guns down and pulls the gag out of Clarke’s mouth, who perfectly captures Josephine’s tone of voice. “Well done, Jade.”

As Jade pulls out a knife to cut through the restraints wrapped around Clarke’s wrists and ankles, your twin shifts her gaze to Murphy, smirking, “You just can't pick a side, can you, John?”

“The only reason I'm doing this is because Emori dies if I don't.” Murphy turns to look at Bellamy, voice dropping a little. “The others are in trouble too. I promise I'll do what I can for them.”

Clarke stands and Jade follows suit, looking between Clarke and Murphy. “Give us two seconds to make sure it's clear, then follow.”

Just then, Layla starts to shift, and Jade lifts her gun, prepared to kill her. But Clarke puts her hand on the barrel, pushing the gun down to lower it, her tone commanding. “No, this one's mine.”

Clarke grabs the discarded pistol from the table and aims it at Layla, glancing over her shoulder to look at Jade. “Go, make sure it's clear.”

Jade nods and immediately turns to slip out of the tent, but Murphy stays put, his eyes locked on Clarke suspiciously. His gaze flits over to you, and yu do your best to look upset, playing the part that Clarke is gone. “Is she really gone this time?”

“Yes. Boohoo.” Clarke smirks at him, taunting, and you can see a flash of anger cross his features. He gives you an apologetic look, and you fight against your restraints a little until Clarke reminds him of the danger they’re in, waving the gun slightly. “Now, as soon as I pull this trigger, your little decoy trick will fail. You better run.”

Murphy nods once, and then turns and heads out of the tent, following Jade’s earlier path. As soon as Clarke sees that it’s clear, and both Jade and Murphy are gone, she swings the gun away from Layla, aiming at the ground, before she fires once, pretending to kill the girl. And then she turns and runs towards you, dropping down in front of you and tugging the gag out of your mouth. 

“I can do this, la lune.”

You nod, knowing she can, believing in your other half. “Get that shield down, we'll bring the cavalry.”

“Stronger together.”

She lifts her hand to brush a finger across the moon hanging around your neck, before her hand touches her wrist, her bracelet gone, now left with Madi. But you don't have time to tell her that, because she has to leave now, so you just whisper back, “Stronger together.”

And with one last sad smile, she turns and slips out of the tent behind the others, leaving to begin her new con as fake Josephine. Layla watches her retreat in shock, surprised that Clarke let her live, her survival making her realize one very important thing. She turns to you, the pieces finally clicking together. “She isn't Josephine.”

“No, she's not.” You hold out your tied wrists, urging her to free you. “Now let’s ready the cavalry.”

-

next chapter

[ificanthaveu]

Broadway Baby || Shawn Mendes

Description: You have known Shawn Mendes for nine years. And he has been a pain in your ass the entire time. NYC isn’t big enough for the two of you, and your hometown certainly isn’t either. (aka broadway!Shawn)

A/N: I thought of this au out of nowhere and I was like wait a minute....that could be really good. SO here we are! And I think it is pretty good! And yes the Jordan I mention a few times is Jordan Fischer. I am a whore for that man. ALSO just a disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about the technicality or broadway or new york or anything so plz just pretend thank you

Word Count: 7.6k

Maybe going to your high school’s five-year reunion at some dive bar two hours away from where you currently lived and down the street from your old high school could have been the worst place to be on a Saturday night in May. 

You whisked the wine in your glass around as you watched it arch up the glass, threatening to spill out with each turn. The light above you flickered every few moments, and you couldn’t tell if the reason for your forming headache was the wine or the light or the fact that you were at your reunion. Or maybe all three. 

You leaned against a table with two people from your homeroom, both of them going on and on about their current fifth year of college they were finishing up. One was in a sorority and the other was the president of his frat. You could’ve seen that coming from your freshman year of high school. 

You occasionally chimed in every few moments just to look interested because you really didn’t have anyone else to talk to. You’d gotten here just a little too early since you had to take the drive and overestimated how long it actually took. Everyone who was eager for the reunion was here. Which meant everyone you did not want to see. 

Your friends planned on coming later, and in reality, you should have just stopped at their house before coming but last minute decided against it. You didn’t really see your high school friends as often as you once thought you would. But life got in the way. While everyone else tended to stay in the small town, you were one of the few who made it out to New York City just two hours away. You had a great job, you bought a house and had a dog. It couldn’t get much better for you. 

So, why you thought you would want to relive your high school days for a night? You still don’t know what you were thinking. 

“[Y/N]?” Eli said from next to you as you blinked a few times before looking at him. 

“How’s the big city?” He said with his smile that actually was too white. 

“Good! Really good!” You said with a smile before you took a sip, hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions. 

“Do you ever run into Shawn?” Kelly asked from the other side of you. 

The name itself sent shivers down your spine. Not good ones. 

“Nope,” you said with a pop in your “p” as you downed your glass. 

“You guys were so close in high school,” Eli said. 

You held back a laugh as you glanced back over at him, “No, we weren’t.”

“Well you were the leads in all the musicals together,” Eli replied. 

“That means we were forced to act like we liked each other onstage. We were good actors. That’s why we were the leads,” you tried to say as casually as possible without making it obvious that your blood was boiling. 

“Could have fooled me,” Kelly taunted as she sipped at her drink.

You stifled an eye roll as you thought about what the best time would be to sneak away and get more wine. 

“Speak of the devil,” Eli said as you followed his eyes across the room. 

Your eyes briefly met with Shawn’s as he sauntered into the bar with more confidence than he should be allowed to have. 

You heard Kelly sigh from next to you as she rested her head on her hand. 

You could throw up. 

By the time you looked up again, he was walking right towards you. 

So, now was the right time to get another glass. 

You turned around and waved the bartender down for some wine and then thought maybe two glasses was a better idea but didn’t want to look as trashy as you felt right now being in the same room as Shawn again. 

By the time you turned around with your wine, Shawn was deep in conversation with Eli as Kelly lovingly listened in. 

You took a quick scan of the room, praying there could be someone else you could talk to. Most of the people you really didn’t care for or barely remembered. You spotted a few football players you had known since Kindergarten and hadn’t seen in a while. 

You were about to cross the room to them when you heard Eli say, “[Y/N]’s right here.”

Shawn looked up and smirked as his eyes met yours. There goes your escape. 

You smiled sweetly as you made your way back in between Eli and Kelly and a comfortable distance from Shawn. 

“Hi, Shawn.”

“[Y/N], good to see you,” he said, the damn smirk not leaving his face. 

“You too,” you mumbled from the rim of your glass. 

“Heard you’re over at Samson Management now? You know Jordan?”

You nodded your head and leaned on the table again, “Yeah, I work with Jordan pretty often. He’s fantastic.”

Shawn looked over to Kelly, turning on his charm as he said, “Jordan’s the lead right now in the musical I’m in.”

It took every ounce of you to not roll your eyes and say something snarky. 

“You mean the musical you’re an understudy for?”

It didn’t work.

Shawn cocked an eyebrow at you and his smile faltered as you foiled his face he was putting up for everyone. 

“Yes, [Y/N], that would be the one,” he said slowly. 

“Mhm,” you mumbled.

“Anyway, I’m in Dear Evan Hansen, and Jordan plays Evan right now. We’re pretty good friends, and he’s managed by the company [Y/N] interns for,” he said simply. 

“I’m not an intern,” you said calmly. 

“You were.”

“When I was in college, now I’m a junior manager,” you said, your grip on your glass getting dangerously harder. 

“Hm, whoops,” he said before taking a drink of his beer. 

You could cut the tension with a knife as Eli and Kelly shared looks. 

“Who are you managed by again, Shawn?” You asked. 

If looks could kill, you’d be dead. 

“I’m in between managers.”

“Isn’t that what people say when they were fired from a job? That they’re in-between jobs?” You said with a quiet laugh. 

You could practically see the steam threatening to spill from Shawn’s ears. 

“Things weren’t working out,” he said carefully. 

“I’m going to go say hi to Andy,” Kelly said quietly as she backed away. 

“Me too,” Eli said as he did the same. 

You were in a staredown with Shawn as they both almost sprinted away. 

“Want anything from the bar, [Y/N]? Or still nursing your third glass?” He taunted as he walked past you to the bar behind you. 

“Not my third.”

“Sorry, second,” he said with a smile as he turned around. 

You shook your head and bit your lip harshly. 

“Just upset I’m spoiling your whole facade?” You said, leaning against the bar next to him. “A simple google search could have spoiled it anyway.”

“Sorry we’re not all perfect,” he said, not looking at you. 

“Yeah, real bummer,” you said before pushing yourself off the bar and making your way across the room to the people you meant to see earlier. 

Andy scooped you up into a big hug as you finally approached him, rocking you back and forth. 

“Heard you were being snarky across the room?” He whispered in your ear before pulling away and giving you the same look he’d been giving to you since Kindergarten. 

“Some things never change,” you said as you sat down next to him. 

“No one really likes him anyway, just think they do because they think he might be famous one day,” he said. 

“He won’t be,” you said. “We run in relatively the same circle with my office managing a lot of the people he performs with. He won’t go anywhere with that attitude.”

“Nothing’s changed,” he mumbled. 

“Not at all.”

You watched Shawn sweet-talk one of the old cheerleaders from across the room, probably raving about his latest performance where he was a background character for one whole scene but making it sound so much better. 

“I’m still shocked nothing ever happened between the two of you,” Andy suggested. 

You shot your head to the side to look at him. 

“I can’t be with him for more than a minute without a fight starting,” you reminded him. 

“That tension, I’m telling you,” he said quietly. 

“You are unbelievable,” you said through a laugh. 

Before he could respond, Shawn was walking to the group you were currently in. 

“Don’t be mean,” Andy warned. 

“You know I can’t promise that,” you whispered back. 

“Our own broadway baby!” One of the girls yelled as Shawn hugged one of the guys. 

You scoffed as Andy shot you a warning look before waving at Shawn. 

Shawn returned the wave and walked closer. 

(ITALICS) Here we go again. 

“Good to see you, man,” Shawn said as he shook his hand. 

“You, too,” Andy said as sweet as ever. 

“You still live around here?” Shawn asked. 

“No, I actually live in Chicago now,” Andy said. 

“That’s great,” Shawn said, being nicer than usual. 

“Yeah, how’s the big city?” Andy returned the question. 

“Really great,” Shawn said before taking a drink. “I keep pretty busy.”

“So I hear,” Andy said with a nod. 

You took another drink as you watched the interaction between the two of them. Andy knew how much you didn’t like Shawn, but the two still always got along pretty well. While you were always the first person he greeted after the musical, Shawn was the second. You tried not to let it make your blood boil. But that’s just how Andy was. He loved everyone and everyone loved him. 

“Hey, [Y/N], heard a bunch of people from Samson’s are coming to the show next week?” Shawn questioned.

“Yes, we are,” you said casually. 

“We? As in you’re going?” Shawn pried. 

“Well, I do work with Jordan fairly often, so yes, I will be going,” you said softly. 

“Great,” he said through a toothy smile. 

“Fantastic,” you said as you mirrored his look. 

Before the conversation could turn bad, Shawn got distracted and walked away. 

Andy let out a breath before taking a drink, “I have a feeling you don’t actually feel fantastic about it.”

“As long as I don’t see him, we’ll be just fine,” you said, leaning your elbow on the table.

“I feel like that’s jinxing yourself,” Andy said slowly. 

“Well, I’ve said it over fifty times since we decided we were going, so this time would be no different. If it was jinxed, it was jinxed over a month ago,” you said, finishing your glass. 

“I wish you luck,” he said. 

“Thanks,” you said as you squeezed his arm before standing up to go to your friends who just walked in. 

You could see Sophie eyeing Shawn from a mile away. 

“Soph?” You questioned as she snapped out of it and looked at you. “What are you looking at?”

“I’m not saying that out loud,” she replied. 

“Good idea,” you said back. 

“You have to admit, he looks good,” she said simply. 

“You know I would never admit that even if I did believe it.”

The few of you made your way around a table with a few other people you did the musicals with and talked about the great times you had as you had another glass of wine and started to feel it hit, along with everyone else. 

You were laughing at someone’s story about a performance gone wrong before you realized Shawn was there. You couldn’t even tell when he got there but it wasn’t bothering you nearly as much as you thought it would. 

When he wasn’t trying to impress everyone around him, he wasn’t bad at all to be around, but when his ego took over and all he wanted to do was make people think he was something he wasn’t, you wanted to kill him. 

“Remember when [Y/N] bit Shawn’s lip?” Sophie reminded everyone. 

Shawn threw his head back in laughter as you shook your head and looked down. 

“I still have a scar!” Shawn yelled from across the table as he pointed at you. 

“I’m sorry!” You yelled back through a laugh. “If you would’ve done the moves we practiced, it wouldn’t have happened!”

“You bit through his lip!” someone said. 

“Not on purpose!” You said through a laugh. 

Shawn shook his head as the group calmed down, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it. The last thing I wanted to do was have to drive you to the emergency room on a Friday night,” you said. 

“And you stayed with me the whole time,” he said as he rested his hand on his chest. “I’m touched.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you reminded him. 

“I would never,” he said with a smirk. 

“Someone do karaoke!” Someone else yelled as they pointed at two people getting off the stage. 

Your eyes met Shawn’s from across the table as you both nodded and walked towards the stage, not even having to say the song which you found early on was both your default karaoke song. It was always a duet between the two of you at your cast parties. 

Bruises by Train started playing as people turned and cheered to see the duo up on stage. 

Shawn started singing the first verse as you bopped your head to the familiar tune. 

You cut in with your part as you looked at him, and he looked back at you. 

You felt like you were back on stage with him, playing the part and acting like you could kiss him when this was all said and done. He joined in with you for the chorus as the two of you stood fairly close, looking at each other as you belted the chorus. 

You stood side by side for the next part, your shoulders brushing as you pointed at people as you sang “have you seen him?”

You casually changed “Johnny B” to “Andy T” as Andy hollered from the back of the bar and Shawn laughed through his half of the line. 

You went back into the chorus as you looked at him again, spreading your arms and feeling like you were on the big stage all over again. You didn’t realize how much you missed it. 

You sang the lines of the bridge softly as Shawn did the same, his eyes not leaving yours. You looked at Shawn in ways you hadn’t since the final night senior year, reminding everyone watching why the two of you were always the stars.

Before you could register it, the song was done and you were standing inches from Shawn as everyone cheered. 

“Guess you still got it,” Shawn said with a small smile. 

“Guess you do, too,” you said back, not even wanting to be snarky anymore. 

You both walked back to your table, this time Shawn standing next to you as you laughed with your friends. 

You glanced at the time just to see it was 1:00 am as people were leaving. 

“Shit,” you mumbled as you went to call an Uber since you clearly couldn’t drive. 

You looked around just to see that Sophie and your other friends had left. Andy was gone, too, and you were running out of options. 

You planned on not really drinking and just driving back to the city tonight, but that was no longer an option. 

“You good?” You heard from behind you. 

You turned to see Shawn with his hands tucked in his pockets. 

“I was going to drive back tonight,” you mumbled. 

“That’s not happening anymore.”

“Yeah, I know,” you scoffed. “I’ll just call my parents.”

“Come on, I got a hotel. You can stay with me,” Shawn said as he started walking away. 

“Aren’t you drunk?” You said as you watched him. 

He turned around and shook his head, “I had one beer nearly six hours ago.”

“Oh, ok,” you said as you followed him to his car.

You drove in silence to a hotel a few blocks away, feeling your buzz quickly wear off. 

You followed him in and up to his room. He let you in in front of him as you made your way to the bed in the corner and plopped down on it. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said to the ceiling. 

“I know,” he sighed as he sat on the edge of your bed. “We can pick up your car in the morning.”

“Thanks,” you said as you turned on your side to look at him.

“I’m sorry about before,” you said softly. “I got carried away with the digs.”

He nodded his head and leaned back so his head was next to yours, “I deserved it.”

You turned to look at him better, noticing his jawline as he spoke. 

“I mean, it’s kind of embarrassing having to come to your reunion as an understudy,” he said softly. 

“It’s still Broadway,” you reminded him. “You’re twenty-two. You have plenty of time to ace the lead.”

“Thanks,” he said as he also turned to look at you. 

Your faces were dangerously close as you watched his eyes flick towards your lips and you inched closer. 

Before you could rethink it, Shawn was on top of you and his tongue was in your mouth. 

Every insult you had hurled before were forgotten as he deepened the kiss and moved you up the bed, his hand caressing your back underneath your shirt and getting dangerously close to your bra. 

This was not something you ever did in the musicals.

You woke up the next morning, slightly startled as you looked around at your surroundings. 

And then seeing the sleeping figure next to you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled as you remembered doing things you never imagined doing the night before. 

You noticed you were wearing his shirt and tried not to groan as you slowly got out of the bed to find your clothes. You threw them back on and called an Uber as you slipped on your heels and tiptoed to the door, grabbing your purse and sneaking out. 

You sat in the back of the Uber and cursed everything you could as you made your way to the bar again. 

You hopped out of the car and into your own as you rested your head on your steering wheel and banged it against it a few times for good measure. 

Your headache began to sink in as you prayed you wouldn’t have to throw up on your two-hour drive back home. 

You finally started your car and put the nearest McDonalds into your maps before pulling out. 

You could’ve screamed when Bruises played through your speakers. 

—

Your pounding headache didn’t go away the next few days, and it certainly wasn’t just from your hangover. 

Monday was a whole new obstacle as half your coworkers asked about your reunion and the other half wanted to talk about the show on Friday. 

Your head was pounding, and your coffee wasn’t cutting it anymore. You rested your head in your hands for a moment to breathe before you went to grab lunch.

Your phone rang before you even had that moment. 

“Yes?” You said simply.

“You have a visitor. He’ll be waiting in the commons,” the receptionist said before hanging up. 

Your heart leaped into your throat before you tried to swallow it down. You took a shaky breath before grabbing your bag and walking downstairs, a little too terrified to see who was waiting for you downstairs. 

Seeing Andy waiting there was the best thing to happen to you in the past week. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as you walked up to him and gave him a quick hug. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked with a smile. 

“My flight leaves out of JFK in a few hours, so I thought we could grab lunch first,” he said as you began to walk out of the building. 

“Perfect. The place next door is great,” you said as you felt the first joy you’d felt since Saturday night. 

“I also have to ask you something,” he said slowly. 

“Mhm,” you mumbled as you pushed the door open to the cafe, and he followed behind you.

“Where did you go Saturday night? After the reunion?”

Your heart went right back into your throat as you didn’t look at him and instead focused on the menu on the wall. 

“Back here. I got back super late,” you said as you begged your voice not to falter. 

“Really? Because I saw your car there Sunday morning,” he said. 

You knew you couldn’t prolong it, so you finally looked at him as he looked at you with a blank stare and raised eyebrows. 

“I went to Sophie’s,” you tried. 

“Sophie left before I did,” he said quietly. “And she left with Eli.”

You didn’t respond and instead stepped up to order your usual. You could hear Andy sigh as you recited your order. 

You stepped to the side and let him order before grabbing a table in a secluded corner.

He sat his number down on the table before sitting across from you and leaning forward on the table, giving you another look. 

“We’ll do this again. Where did you go Saturday night?” He asked. 

You sighed as your shoulders slumped. 

“I stayed with Shawn,” you whispered. “He offered, and I didn’t have many other options.”

“I knew it,” he said in his typical, “I told you so” voice he’d been using on you for years. 

“Don’t even say anything. I’m not proud of it,” you mumbled as they set your food in front of you. 

“[Y/N], come on. You know I’d never say anything mean about it,” he reminded you. 

“Yeah, yeah I know,” you said as you started to pick at your food. “No one knows.”

“So I’m guessing that means you did more than just sleep wherever he was staying?” He pried. 

“If I don’t say it out loud, it never happened,” you said before taking a sip. 

“Oh my God,” he mumbled. 

“You said you wouldn’t say anything,” you groaned. 

“I won’t. I won’t,” he said before he sighed. “I just want to say that I told you so, and I saw this coming from a mile away.”

“Ok, I get it,” you said through a laugh. 

“I mean I literally said it probably hours before you did it,” he reminded you again. 

“Yes, ok, anyway, when does your flight leave?” You said, trying to derail the conversation. 

“4:00 pm, but anyway, who came on to who?” He continued. 

“I’m not answering any questions,” you said, taking bites of your food as he thought of more questions to ask. 

“Fine,” he sighed, finally eating. 

“But he definitely came on to me.”

“I knew it.”

— 

You kept busy the next week on your latest project, and you managed to forget about the past weekend...until Friday came up faster than expected. 

You hated to admit it, but you bought a new outfit for the show, one that you know would make Shawn drool in the off chance you did see him.

During the day you were in and out of meetings, barely having time to even sit down in your office. When you finally had a chance, one of the interns leaned in. 

“Ross was looking for you before, but he just told me to tell you that Jordan won’t be on tonight,” she said. 

“What?” you said a little louder than planned. 

“Yeah, I think he said he has strep throat,” she explained before walking away. 

You took a deep breath and ran your hands through your hair. 

This could’ve been your worst nightmare.

You took your time getting ready after work as the chances you would see Shawn increased with each passing moment in the past week. 

You met your coworkers outside the venue an hour before the show and found Ross to grab your ticket. 

“Someone told you right?” Ross said as he handed it to you. 

“Yeah, Jordan’s out,” you said through a sigh. 

“And that Shawn Mendes will be on,” he said as he looked at the altered program. “Know anything about him?”

“Well,” you paused and wondered if you should tell the truth or lie through your teeth. “I actually went to high school with him.”

Ross’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at you. “Tell me everything. I hear he’s looking for new management.”

You bit your tongue as your group walked into the theater and tried to think this through. 

“He’s insanely talented. We starred in most of the musicals together, and he manages to have chemistry with anyone he’s onstage with, which I hope you’ll see tonight. He’s got a good heart, but I think it’s hard for him to show it sometimes. This is all he’s ever wanted to do, and he shows it in everything he does,” you explained as you found your seats. 

“He sounds like a good guy,” Ross offered. 

“Yeah,” you paused. “He is.”

“What musicals did the two of you do together?” He continued. 

“Um, wow, we did The Last Five Years, High School Musical, Footloose and Hairspray,” you remembered. 

“So why did he go and do this while you went into management?” 

“He had the confidence I could never get,” you said as your voice shook just the slightest.

“You’re confident.”

“I wasn’t in high school,” you explained. “Shawn had enough for the two of us. Sure, I would’ve loved to do this,” you gestured to the stage. “But Shawn knew he was going to do this. There was a big difference.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said with a nod. “And you settled for management.”

“I wouldn’t say settled. This is my dream job,” you said through a small laugh. “I wanted college and stability. I needed it. Shawn was always really good at being spontaneous which was definitely something I could’ve learned from.”

“You speak pretty highly of him,” Ross pointed out. 

You paused for a moment and ran through the conversation you just had in your head. You didn’t realize how many nice things you had to say about him. 

“Yeah,” you said before pausing. “He’s a really good guy. We didn’t always get off on the right foot, but when it came down to it, we made a good duo.”

“Well, if this show goes well, I just might have to have a conversation with him afterward. Care to join me? Introduce me to him?” Ross questioned as he looked at you. 

You swallowed hard before nodding your head, “Of course.”

The lights dimmed before Ross could say anything more than “Great.”

You took a deep breath and released it slowly as Shawn walked on to the stage. You were nervous for him, you being the only one who knew the weight of this performance, what Samson Management could do for him. 

You’d never even seen him perform except from the wings of a stage while you did a quick change or quickly rehearsed lines with someone in the stage crew. Before tonight, all you ever got were glimpses of the person he became when he walked on stage. 

And he was amazing at it. 

He had the whole crowd on the edge of their seats as he sang “Waving Through a Window.” You did everything in your power to make sure no one saw you wipe the tear escape your eye. 

You never would’ve been able to tell that this was Shawn’s first time performing this part. He had the whole audience laughing when they needed to be laughing and crying when they needed to be crying. You felt your heart follow his journey as you saw Shawn genuinely thrive. 

It was intermission before you knew it, and you took a moment in the bathroom to fix your makeup that may have ran down your cheek a little. 

By the time you got back to your seat, Ross was jotting down quick notes. 

“So, what do you think?” You asked. 

“He really is something else,” he said with a big smile. “We definitely have to talk after.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as the lights dimmed again and the musical continued. 

By the time the show was done, your mascara needed fixing again and your chest hurt. You ducked into the bathroom again before meeting Ross to introduce him to Shawn. 

You showed your credentials to the stage manager as you walked ahead of Ross to find the door with Shawn’s name on it. You took a deep breath before knocking slightly and hearing a muffled “come in.”

You creaked the door open to watch Shawn turn around to see you. 

“[Y/N],” he said just above a whisper as his face fell. 

Before he could say anything else, you opened up the door more to show Ross with you. Shawn’s immediately put on a different face as he stood up. 

“Shawn, this is Ross Thompson, senior manager at Samson Management. Ross, this is Shawn Mendes, Clinton’s own Broadway baby,” you said with a smile as the two shook hands before Shawn nervously stuffed his in his pockets and glanced over at you. 

“You were amazing,” Ross started. “And we would love to meet with you sometime, over at Samson.”

“Really? That would be amazing,” Shawn said with a smile. 

Ross handed him his card before saying, “Email me Monday morning about what times work best for you within this next week, and we’ll set up a time where the three of us can talk.” He said as he gestured at you, and you nodded your head. 

“Thank you so much. I look forward to talking more,” Shawn said as he shook Ross’s hand again. 

“We’ll see you then,” Ross said as the both of you turned toward the door. 

“[Y/N]?” You heard him say as you both turned around. “Can I steal you for a minute?”

You swallowed hard before nodding over at Ross.

“I’ll meet you guys at Ellen’s,” you said with a soft smile before Ross waved goodbye and walked out. 

You shut the door behind him before you leaned against it and looked at Shawn. 

“I have about a million things to say, and I don’t know which one to start with,” he said a little too quickly. 

“Yeah, I figured.”

“What did you say?” He paused. “That made him want to talk with me?”

“Well, he asked about you and was so excited to hear that we went to high school together, so I told him everything I could,” you said quietly. 

“Which was?” He pried. 

“Um,” you faltered. “I said that we starred in the musicals together…”

“And?” He cut you off. 

“And that you’re amazing at what you do. That you were born to be doing this, and it shows when you walk onstage. That you have a good heart, but sometimes have a hard time showing it. That we didn’t always get off on the right foot, but at the end of it all, we made a really good duo,” you said, trying to look anywhere but his eyes that seemed to be piercing into yours. 

“You mean that?”

You could hear the strain in his voice. 

“Of course I do,” you said through an exhale. “Look at you, Shawn. You just walked out on that stage like you’ve been playing this role your whole life. You had that whole audience convinced you were the actual Evan Hansen when that person doesn’t even exist.”

A moment of silence surrounded the two of you. You stared just past Shawn at the table scattered with his things, focusing on an open foundation bottle instead of him. 

“So you liked it?” He finally said. 

“I loved it,” you said quietly. “I’ve never actually gotten to see perform from an audience before. It was breathtaking.”

“Thanks,” he said almost under his breath. 

It went quiet again, and you uncomfortably switched from one foot to the other as the tension filled the room like so many times before. Except for all different reasons. 

“So why’d you leave?” He finally asked as his hands flew up with frustration. 

Your body slumped as you sighed and sat on the arm of the chair right next to the door. 

“Please don’t do this, Shawn,” you begged as you looked at the floor. 

“No, I’m doing this. Why did you leave? I’m not just some guy you met at a bar, [Y/N]. I thought you had a little more respect for me than that,” he said, the frustration in his voice evident. 

“Because you’re you,” you started. “You’re a pain in my ass and have been for the past nine years. I’ve had to watch you captivate the stage with this natural flair that only you could pull off, and I never could. Seeing you on Saturday was like being on stage as a freshman as Gabriella all over again, and I was staring at Troy, who had the confidence of ten people, showing this whole world what he can do, and I can’t. I couldn’t just let myself live in whatever fake world we made up Saturday night just to regret it Sunday morning.”

“Why are you saying this? It’s been five years since we last sang together, but it felt like yesterday when I looked at you doing that note change you always did when we sang that song. Whenever I perform with you, I forget that you’re you. I forget that you hate my guts half the time and the other half of the time you’re tolerating it because you have to,” he said, frustration evident in his voice. “You can’t make up excuses anymore, [Y/N]. What happened Saturday was not some performance. We’re not in high school. And even if we were, you are still just as amazing as a performer as you think I am, but you’re still stuck in this mindset that you were just put there by default.”

“Do you know how hard it is to perform with you when everyone who encounters you falls in love with you?” You almost yelled as you stood up, and Shawn stepped back. “I had to, and still have to, work twice as hard as you to get half of the recognition you did. We were never equals. I didn’t hate you, Shawn. I could never hate you because of how you made me feel like I was everything when we were on stage together. I have tried every night for the past nine years to forget the way my stomach would flip when you sang to me, and right when I thought I could, I was right back to it because of that fucking reunion.”

“Then why did you leave?” He finally yelled. “I thought I had finally figured you out, finally figured out how I could get you to be mine, and by the time I woke up, you were gone and probably halfway to New York. Why won’t you just accept that there was always something here, but you were too scared to ever admit it because of what other people thought of me?”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have anything to say. 

“I have been chasing after you for nine years, and I’m just starting to think that I just can’t do it anymore,” he said quietly as he sat down on the couch opposite of you with his hand on his forehead. 

You watched the way he rubbed his forehead as he caught his breath, the way his body slumped as he let out everything he’d always wanted to say. 

“When I woke up on Sunday, I couldn’t get out of my head that I was just there because I was convenient for the night. That I wasn’t what you actually wanted,” you said slowly. “I didn’t realize there was something more.”

He sighed and looked up at you.

“But by the time I got back here, I knew I shouldn’t have left. I made that mistake, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with the consequences of it. Whenever I’m with you, I just get caught back in this old mindset that you’re always going to be better than me, and that’s a real blow to the ego, but it’s all in my head,” you said. 

He didn’t say anything as you finished your thoughts. 

“That’s all I have left to say,” you said after a moment.

“Then I think you should go,” you said just above a whisper. 

“Shawn…” you started. 

“I’ve had enough for one night. Please just go.”

So you did.

—

The following week was just as painful as the one before as you awaited the meeting you would eventually have to sit through with just Ross and Shawn. The calendar notification popped up Monday morning, so you knew Shawn called him as soon as he possibly could to set this up. You had a brief meeting with Ross on Thursday morning, and Shawn was planned to join you shortly after. 

You walked with Ross to one of the rooms on the first floor to go over some notes before meeting Shawn. He pulled up his laptop and let out a sigh. 

“I need you to be honest with me about how you feel about Shawn,” Ross said. 

“Ok,” you said carefully. 

“Because I asked around and the things I’ve heard have been exactly 50/50. People either love him or hate him. I can’t afford to have a hated man on our team,” Ross explained. “So I need the real story.”

You took a deep breath and stared at your own computer screen before looking up at him. 

“I have known Shawn since I was 14. The first time I met him was a chemistry read for High School Musical. I had heard about him. I had heard…not the greatest things about him. That he had a big ego and knew he was good and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. So, I went into that chemistry read with this horrible idea of him in my head. And I held on to it for a lot longer than I’d like to admit. But every day I spent with him on the stage, that chipped away more and more,” you said. 

“What I said on Friday, about him knowing this is what he was meant to do, is completely true. People often take that the wrong way. I took that the wrong way. I wasted years hating him when he was just passionate about what he did. Once you realize that, he is genuinely one of the most amazing performers you will ever work with and just as amazing of a person,” you finished. 

Ross nodded his head as he leaned back in his chair, crossing an ankle over a knee as he bit the end of his pen. 

“I trust you,” he said after a moment. 

Before you could say anything else, Ross’s laptop dinged to notify him that Shawn was here. 

“You want to go get him?” Ross offered. 

You nodded your head and walked out of the room and down the long hallway to see Shawn waiting at the end of it by the receptionist’s desk. 

“Shawn,” you said with a head nod towards the hallway. 

He didn’t say anything and followed you down the hallway. 

Before you went in, Shawn stopped a few feet away from the door. You turned around and looked at him. 

“This is make or break for me,” he said. 

“I know.”

“What do you think it’s going to be?” He asked. 

You sighed and leaned against the wall. 

“Despite what has happened, I have done everything I possibly can at this point. I believe in you, Shawn, and I’ve done everything I can to get Ross to feel that same way,” you explained. 

“You mean that?”

“Every word.”

You didn’t allow him time to respond as you opened the door and let him in in front of you. His nerves seemed to evaporate away as he shook Ross’s hand and took a seat across from the two of you. 

Ross sighed as he sat down before he said, “I’ll cut right to it.”

Shawn simply nodded his head. 

“We would love for you to join our team,” he said. 

You watched Shawn relax, and it took everything in you not to jump up. 

“Thank you so much, sir. You won’t regret it,” Shawn said with a smile that could light up the entire city. 

“I know,” Ross said with a head nod. “You’re lucky you have someone as great as [Y/N] in your life. She did a really good job of talking you up.”

Shawn looked at you as your eyes widened at Ross’s blatant statement. 

“Yeah,” Shawn said, still looking at you. “I am.”

The meeting went relatively quickly as preliminary paperwork was filled out and the basics were gone over. The looks Shawn gave you didn’t go unnoticed as you explained the necessary policies. 

“Well, Shawn, that’s all we have for you today,” Ross said as he stacked up some papers and set them on top of his laptop. “You’ll be working mostly with me and [Y/N], but for the majority of the time it’ll just be [Y/N],” he said as he gestured to you. 

You nodded your head as Shawn looked at you again and nodded along. 

“You have my number, but call this number if it’s during work hours,” you said as you handed him your card. “I check my email constantly, so you’ll also be able to reach me quickly there if I’m in a meeting.”

“Got it,” he said as he placed your card with the other papers stacked in his arms. 

“We look forward to working with you,” Ross said as he gestured forward. “I’ll have [Y/N] walk you out,” 

You and Shawn walked out the door and down the hallway towards the front door as tension surrounded you two again. 

“Can I see you this weekend?” Shawn said quickly as you reached the front door. 

Without saying anything, you pushed him out the front door, and you followed behind him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“No, no, just the receptionist is nosey,” you said with a head shake. “Ross doesn’t care.”

“Oh, ok.”

“Anyway…” you offered. 

“Right, I just think we need to talk,” he said as he impatiently fiddled with his thumbs. 

“What’s there left to say, Shawn?” You asked as you crossed your arms as an unexpected breeze blew by. “We both said what we needed to last weekend. I got you your management team. What else do you want?”

“I don’t just want you because of a management team,” Shawn said with hurt in his voice. “And I did not think you’d be the one I’d work with if they brought me on here.”

“We want to keep you with people you know-“

“That doesn’t matter right now. [Y/N], what I’m trying to say is I want to see you. I want to take you on a damn date because I’ve wanted to since I was 14 and heard you sing ‘Breaking Free,’” he said, sounding out of breath, rarely seeing him so vulnerable.

You felt the smile tug at your lips as you tried to keep a straight face. 

“We do still have a lot to talk about,” you said. 

“A shit ton, but it would be a lot easier to do that over a drink, and when I know you feel the same way I do about you.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile before you said, “Of course, I want to get a drink with you. As a date.”

“Thank, God,” he said as his body slumped and his breath left him. 

“I told Ross about how I truly felt about you. That that big ego I thought you had was just passion for what you did, and I realize that now. And I’m sorry I couldn’t do it sooner,” you said before pausing. “You’re a good guy, Shawn,” you said simply as you looked up at him. “I don’t think I say that enough, and certainly not to your face.”

“Then say it again,” he said through a small smile. 

“Never.”

He stepped forward, aiming to kiss you but you held your hand up before he did. 

“I’m not going to kiss you outside my office, and I don’t kiss before the first date,” you said with a smirk.

He returned the look as he raised an eyebrow and leaned in to hug you. 

You held on to him tightly as he gripped onto you the same way. You felt his lips graze over your ear. 

“We’ve done a lot more than kiss before our first date.”

You pushed him off and walked towards the door, begging the blush to disappear from your face before you made it back to your office. 

“See you tomorrow? Ed’s on fifth? Pick you up at 6?”

You turned around and looked at him as he started backing away. 

“The Broadway bar? Really?”

“I have a brand,” he said with a shrug and his signature smirk.

You turned to go into the building before leaning out the door to look at him one last time.

“See you then, broadway baby.”

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[andipxndy-writes]

holiday mishaps (part 2)

fandom: alex rider x ncis [crossover] warnings: typical ncis stuff requested by: @lilcoffeecup word count: 7.6k

cross posted to ao3

summary: Alex Rider just wanted a relaxing holiday, somewhere where he could relax without any trouble cropping up. And with Jack and her family, he almost got that. ALMOST. And then he had to go and take a midnight walk. On the other hand... Ziva David swears she recognises the fair-haired witness to their murder case.

holiday mishaps

To say that Alex had had a strange day so far was likely an understatement. Well, it was more like a strange day and night, but it was pretty much all melded into one for him.

First of all, the fact that he hadn’t had a wink of sleep was throwing him off big time. He was used to sleepless nights, sure, but that was mostly from insomnia or, you know, terrible nightmares that kept him up for hours on end. Not being forced to stay up to keep an eye on a guy bleeding to death beneath his hands and then waiting for the paramedics to arrive and then waiting for the federal officers to arrive so that he could be questioned. Jack arriving had been a godsend until she started asking what the hell was going on and why he was being questioned about a man dying… and why he had blood all over his hands. Those questions had, fortunately enough, been easy to answer. He hadn’t been involved in the original situation, only in attempting to save the man and then prolonging his eventual death. He had nothing to hide.

The answers had been harder to explain to her family when they’d finally returned home and he looked and felt dead on his feet. As far as they knew, Alex was a bright-eyed teen with a couple of scars probably from his martial arts or fighting at school. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. So him coming home with blood on his hands and t-shirt and a ripped bag of shopping from the corner store (which he’d definitely got looks from Jack for) was shocking to say the least.

Luckily enough, Jack took on the responsibility of fielding off all the questions whilst he hopped into the shower, but she wasn’t exactly able to save him from her nephews going in and pestering him when he’d landed on his bed. He supposed his snoring was enough to put them off then.

He was woken what felt like a good while later by someone poking his shoulder a few times, which he was almost tempted to brush off. Until he realised exactly who it could have been, considering Jack was more the type to push him off the bed completely and make sure he woke up on the floor feeling a lot groggier than he would feel otherwise. Opening one eye, he turned his head to see it was one of her nephews, his “cousin” Pete, poking him in the shoulder to wake him up. He stopped as soon as he saw Alex’s one open eye, waiting to see if Alex would do anything.

Alex didn’t want to do anything.

“What?” he grumbled, almost tempted to close that eye again and go straight back to sleep until someone (probably Jack) came to get him for dinner or something. Heck, he’d just remembered that he hadn’t even had lunch, or breakfast. Was he over-hungry?

He was so drawn into his thoughts that he almost missed the question thrown at him.

“Where did you go last night?”

Sighing, Alex closed his one open eye again before pushing himself up into a sitting position. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to get much more sleep now, so he may as well start to wake himself up so that he could get something to eat. Last he remembered, Jack had had his snacks that he’d brought back. She’d probably taken them and hidden them somewhere so that he couldn’t get to them after everything that had happened the night before.

Thanks, Jack.

“I went out to get snacks,” Alex mumbled in response, hoping that that was enough of an answer and that he could go and get food. Now that he was waking up a bit more, he was starting to feel hungry.

Unfortunately (and Alex could have predicted this very easily), that wasn’t enough of an answer for him.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t take you all night to get snacks.”

He had a point there. It didn’t take anyone all night to get snacks. Unless you were Alex Rider and trouble seemed to follow you everywhere you went. At least this time, it was less him getting into trouble and more him finding trouble and trying to get someone else out of it. Not that he had succeeded or anything.

“Yeah, I know that,” he answered. “But I got held up.” Which was putting it lightly. And it wasn’t as if he’d had to stop or anything. He’d chosen to do it, to try and help someone, and it had ended up being more of an all night ordeal. Was that enough of an explanation for this guy? Giving Pete a brief glance, Alex recalled exactly how old he was: thirteen.

There was no way he was going to expose him to that sort of thing at thirteen.

“By what?”

“Some trouble near the store. I had to get around it.”

Alex pretty much knew that this was a lame explanation, and he knew that it wasn’t the sort of thing that he would have accepted at his age either, but he also had standards, and he had a sort of god-complex. At least, that was what Tom had told him when he said he felt the need to protect people from his world. It was just a shame he’d ended up dragging his best friend into it.

The soured expression on the teenaged boy’s face was enough to tell Alex that he didn’t quite accept the explanation, but his lack of a comment meant that he wasn't going to press. Good.

“Where’s Jack?” he asked curiously as he pushed himself off the bed and to his feet. The boy seemed to hesitate again, somehow knowing that this was a cop-out, before answering.

“She’s downstairs, helping with dinner.”

Dinner. His stomach grumbled at the thought of food, before he realised what time it had to be for Jack to be helping out with dinner. In simple words: late.

“You know where there are any snacks to carry us through to dinner?” Alex asked, and he hoped the small smirk on his face was enough to melt whatever suspicious wall had been thrown up by the boy.

The mention of snacks seemed to be enough to get the wall to come down, and the boy grinned before beckoning Alex towards him with a finger, and then led him out of the room. It seemed almost as if they were trying to avoid getting in trouble as they snuck towards the stairs and down to the first floor, where Alex presumed everyone would be — and also the spare room that Jack was sleeping in with one of her nieces. As soon as they reached the door, a quick knock and a lack of an answer told them that there was no one in the room, and the pair of them snuck in, shutting the door behind them.

“I saw Jack bring your snacks in here this morning,” Pete whispered to Alex, and Alex’s eyes lit up. At least she hadn’t got rid of his late night hoard… and for helping him out, he was definitely sharing with the kid beside him.

“Do you have any idea where she could have put it?” he asked, though he didn’t know why. If anyone had any idea where Jack his stuff in this room, it would be him.

When the boy gave a small shrug and shook his head, he knew that was more than an answer. He should have asked himself.

Which was what he did next. He asked himself: Where would Jack hide his stash of midnight snacks if she didn’t want anyone to find them? This was assuming, of course, that she knew he was going to sneak in there eventually and steal them back. Then again, she knew him pretty well — she probably knew that he would have tried to steal them back eventually.

Glancing around the room, he realised there were probably only two places that she could’ve hidden the bag, and he was more than a little disappointed in her for it. The room was set up with two single beds, for Jack and her niece, and at the foot of each bed was an open suitcase of clothes even though there were a wardrobe and a dresser in the room for each of them to use for their clothes. To be fair, even Alex hadn’t hung up his clothes in his room, and he was sharing with only one other guy who visited so often that he basically lived in the house and had his own clothes kept there anyway. As Jack’s suitcase was open, and there were no huge lumps in it, there wasn’t a chance that the clothes were hiding the snacks that he’d bought. (Plus, the bag was ripped and had got some blood on it — there was no way Jack would put that with her clean clothes.) The windowsill was clear, of course, but that wouldn’t have really been a hiding place. It was open and too obvious, and Alex probably would have been able to climb in through the window to steal them back. (Not that he would do that in someone else’s house.

That left the wardrobe, since the drawers of the dresser were too narrow for the clothes to be kept in, and underneath the beds. The two places that she could have hidden the bag.

Heading over to the wardrobe, he pulled open one door to see what was in there. Contrary to what he’d previously thought, some of Jack’s clothes had been hung up in there ready for her to wear. He had a feeling, though, that these clothes were ones that had been washed by her mother, along with some of the shoes that she had brought along with them. It wasn’t as if the older woman would let her daughter fold her clothes and put them right back into the suitcase to get all crumpled up. That meant, unfortunately, that he had to dig around and look behind the clothes and shoes to see whether the bag was actually in there, rather than just spotting it at first glance like he’d originally hoped. He turned back towards Pete, who was awkwardly standing just a little behind him.

“Take a look under the beds,” he suggested. “Maybe the bag’s under one of them. I’ll look in here.”

The boy scrunched up his nose at the thought of getting on his hands and knees and looking under the bed for a bag of snacks. “Under the beds? On the floor?”

“Do you want those snacks or not?”

It took less than a couple of moments for the boy to apparently decide that he really did want those snacks, and he turned towards the beds and got on his hands and knees, apparently deciding to go for his sister’s bed first. Probably not Alex’s first thought, but he supposed it was a decent idea. Hide the stuff with her roommate instead of with her own stuff. Smart.

Before Alex could start a proper search, however, he heard some chatter from outside the door and he froze. He recognised at least one of the voices.

“Okay, let me just get a jacket and then I’ll go with you—”

He turned towards the boy kneeling on the floor with wide eyes, and he stared at him right back.

“Hide!”

As the boy scrambled underneath the bed, Alex jumped into the wardrobe and shut the door as much as he could, hoping that Jack hadn’t decided to keep her jacket in there and had instead opted for keeping it in her suitcase. A few moments later the door opened, and Alex stared out through the little gap he’d left in the door to see what was going on.

Jack had walked into the room, just as he’d thought would happen and, luckily enough, she headed straight for her suitcase instead of over to the wardrobe. He let out a near-silent breath of relief as she dug around the suitcase a little before pulling out a jacket and putting it on, turning and heading back towards the door.

“Alright, I’m coming!”

A few footsteps and a bit of chatter later and the door shut behind her, and Alex let out a larger breath of relief and waited for the sound of footsteps outside the door to disappear before pushing the wardrobe door open, climbing out slowly. He was both surprised and a little disappointed that they hadn’t got caught — he’d thought Jack was better at finding hiding people than that.

“You can come out now,” he called out quietly, and the younger boy crawled out from under his sister’s bed with a grin, dragging a ripped bag with snacks in it out behind him.

“Found the snacks.”

Alex grinned in response. “I think you’ve just become my new favourite cousin.”

***

The moment Alex realised that all of the snacks were there, the boys quickly realised that they didn’t want to stay in the room to eat the snacks. After all, they didn’t know how long Jack would be, and they also didn’t know whether she would randomly come back because she needed something or if Pete’s sister would end up coming back into the room because she wanted something from her own luggage. They just needed to get out of there and back to Alex’s room so that they could chill with their snacks. It was a brilliant plan, really.

Their only problem was making it to the staircase.

Of course, Alex knew that once they managed to get to the staircase they’d be free, able to go up to the room he was staying in and just snack until dinner. Both of them were hungry enough that no one would really notice if they snacked before dinner, and even if they weren’t all too hungry by the time dinner rolled around Alex was pretty good at stuffing his face now. Visiting friends’ houses and being given a lot of food by their mothers on the pretense that he was a growing boy who needed to eat more than enough to grow meant that he had to be good at it, because wasting other people’s food was rude.

Getting to the stairs was definitely the hard part, though. As soon as they emerged from Jack’s room, the pair of them heard chatter coming from one of the other ground floor rooms. Obviously, everyone was probably downstairs getting dinner ready and casually chatting about stuff like sports or food or whatever it was adults spoke about when they were together and not around kids, but the tone of the conversation sounded… formal. Hushed. Quiet. It sounded important, and Alex was suddenly very curious. Whenever adults were having important adulting conversations, they were usually the kinds of things that were very good to eavesdrop on.

Curse his naturally spying nature. It had got him into far too much trouble as it was.

Pausing at the base of the stairs, he was very tempted to step back and listen in on the conversation. But he was also very aware that he was with someone right then, and that they were both hungry and needing snacks before dinner. Alex was very aware of the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day, and his stomach was protesting against any sort of spying at that moment in time.

The boy watched him curiously. “What are you doing?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

Alex took a couple of moments to decide. Did he do it? Did he leave it? Do it, leave it… do it… leave it…

He was going to do it.

“I just want to listen in on something real quick,” he answered quietly, passing the snacks over before heading towards the archway to the living room. “I’ll be right here by the door. It won’t take long.”

Pete stared at him skeptically, as if what Alex was saying made no sense. “You’re going to listen in on the adults’ conversation?”

Alex couldn’t believe he’d got it in one.

“They’ll catch you before you can hear anything important.”

That just sounded like he was speaking from experience. “It’s alright,” Alex answered, trying to resist a smirk. “I’m kind of used to doing this.” Part of him wanted to add on that it was basically his job to do things like that, but that would be going too far. Plus, it would bring up all sorts of questions that a teenaged boy really shouldn’t be asking him.

Then again, he was also a teenager. If another teen couldn’t ask him those sorts of questions, who could?

Ignoring how anxious and unsure the boy seemed to be behind him, Alex moved to stand just beside the entryway to the room, hoping to at least catch snippets of the conversation going on in the room. Even if he didn’t get much, trying to listen out for something would probably sate his curiosity more than trying to forget about the whole thing and heading straight up to get snacks — he would probably be far too irritated with himself for not taking the opportunity he was practically handed on a silver platter.

For a few moments, he didn’t really hear anything that was being said in the room. After all, they were speaking in pretty hushed voices, so it wasn’t as if he would be able to hear anything until he was purposefully trying to listen out for something. Eventually, though, he actually heard something interesting and worth eavesdropping on.

“I can’t believe those agents actually thought we had something to do with that poor man’s death. As if our family has anything to do with that sort of thing.”

“They were just asking out of courtesy, mom. It’s their job to cover all the bases, just to make sure they actually catch whoever did this.”

“But to think that we had something to do with this—”

“It’s a part of their job to get closure for the man’s family, mom. What if it had been one of us? Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to ask every possible person who could have been involved?”

“What was that boy doing out late on his own anyway? He should have at least had someone to go with him. You should have gone with him, for God’s sake!”

“Jack said he’d be fine on his own, and he was. He tried to save a man’s life, and even though he didn’t succeed that was a good thing, mom. He showed real courage. He could have walked off and left him to die alone.”

“He should have walked off instead of getting involved in something like that. The poor boy could be scarred from something like that.”

“Oh come on, honey, he did a good thing. He was raised right, and Jackie definitely played a part in that. Knowing that she raised someone with such a good heart, aren’t you proud of her?”

“I’d be prouder if we were talking about her own child, instead of someone else’s child she became a guardian for.”

“Oh come on, mom. That’s more than a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Alex decided this would be a good point to start zoning out. He didn’t really like listening to people talk about him like this. Not just because it was a private thing, but people didn’t really have anything good to say about him behind his back and he was speaking from a lot of experience. He was an orphan with no remaining family that he knew of. His own godfather was dead (and he’d been involved in his death) and had been the reason his parents had died. He didn’t really like hearing about his own family life and how he didn’t quite fit into the typical idea of a family life. He didn’t blame people for thinking the way they did about his life and the way he grew up, but it did hurt a little bit.

But then the conversation switched again, drawing Alex right back in.

“What did they ask you about?”

“Oh, they asked me about any sort of connection to the guy who was killed, you know. Standard questions. The sort of thing you want to ask to figure out if someone is a suspect.”

“And?”

“I’m not involved with the guy, mom. I knew of him, yeah, but we never really spoke with each other. I didn’t even know him. Everyone spread rumours about him and I kind of… stayed away. And that’s exactly what I told them.”

“They didn’t ask you about what you knew about Alex?”

Alex’s ears perked up at this.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t know anything about him. And I told them that. Alex isn’t from our family, he’s an orphan that Jack has been caring for for years. What else was there to tell?”

“If anyone had anything else to say, it would’ve been Jack, right? She would’ve told them what they needed to hear.”

“I mean, she told me she just told them that he was a school kid who knows martial arts and has a heart for helping and protecting people. Said he might be in the military one day, or something like that.”

Alex had to resist the urge to snort at that. One day, huh? He was, technically, already in military intelligence. He worked for the British government. Or at least, he had since he was fourteen. He had more enemies than a teenager should, come face-to-face with more guns than a gang member, and had visited more countries than most people had even if he hadn’t seen as many sights or had as many holiday photos.

“So nothing really incriminating or anything? He’s just a regular kid?”

“A regular kid who she loves enough to take a break in her major for.”

Alex could tell from the tone that that was always a sore spot for the family, or at least Jack’s parents. After all, she hadn’t gone into the military like her family was known for. She wanted to go and do law, and she hadn’t even finished with that. Granted, Jack had agreed that as soon as he started his A-Levels she would go ahead and start on her degree again, but he had yet to see her sign up or try to find somewhere to do it. He was beginning to think that he would have to push her to make sure that she actually did it rather than just saying that she would. Otherwise her family would be less than pleased, and they would end up attending university together.

Not that he would mind attending university with Jack, but the idea of it was weird when she had, at one point, been the person taking care of him whilst she had attended university.

“Oh come on, no need to talk about Alex like that. He needed someone, and Jack had the heart to be that someone for him instead of throwing him into the foster system like someone else would have.”

“I just wish she’d thought a bit more about herself.”

And that was where Alex decided to zone out of the conversation again. He had heard enough — they’d been interviewed again, and the whole death had been the topic of the conversation. He had also been a topic of conversation. He already knew that there was some tension there when it came to Jack taking care of him, no matter how nice they were to his face — there always had been.

Not that the whole thing would have been a problem if her family had sent her money whilst she was studying in the U.K., but he wasn’t going to touch on that right then. That sort of thing just upset him.

So he turned back to the stairs, where the boy was waiting for him, and headed over. He guessed he had some sort of dark or upset look on his face, because the boy looked unsure for a few moments, so he smoothed over his expression and forced on a believable smile.

“You ready for an ultimate pre-dinner snack time?” he asked, and the boy watched him cautiously for a few moments before a grin cracked on his own face.

“Yeah, I’m more than ready for this.”

And with that, the two boys raced up the stairs, not quite caring that they could be heard from the lounge where everyone was sitting. They had what they needed. They weren’t going to get into trouble now.

***

“Something doesn’t sit right with me.”

Ziva was staring at the screen in front of her, staring at the image of the dead Petty Officer on the screen. There were various pieces to the puzzle, but something just didn’t click. The pieces weren’t fitting together quite right.

There was one piece missing, and she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Granted, none of the others could quite figure out what it was, but something was telling her that it was on her to figure out what the missing piece was. And she was feeling the pressure whether she liked it or not.

Of course, the other two didn’t see that there was a piece missing — at least, not the piece that she was thinking about. Which is why when she made the comment, both males looked up at her in mild confusion.

“Something like… what?” McGee asked slowly.

Ziva gave a little huff, trying to figure out how to put it. It was bad enough that English was a second language for her — she couldn’t even think of how to phrase it in Hebrew before translating it into English. This was going to be more than a little difficult. “It is… uh…” She gave a huff. “Okay, I am… I have a dilemma.” When Tony’s eyebrows rose in response, she decided to rephrase it in a way that didn’t seem so suspicious or strange. “I have a case of… well, of déja vu.”

“Déja vu?” Tony leaned back in his seat, tilting his head a little as he watched Ziva. Ziva didn’t know exactly what he was trying to get or read from her, but she brushed it off. Tony could be weird sometimes — and a bit of a creep at others.

“Yes.”

“You mean you’ve seen him before?” McGee typed a few keys on his keyboard, and the face of the dead Petty Officer appeared on the screen.

Ziva narrowed her eyes at the screen, and the photo of the dead man, before shaking her head. She might have seen the man in passing once or twice (though even that was unlikely considering she didn’t really spend that much time in Quantico), but it wasn’t his face that gave her the strange feeling. “No. Not him. I mean, maybe I have seen him, but he is not the one I’m speaking about.”

“Then who…?” Tony started, only for McGee to bring up another photo on the screen.

The photo of the teen they’d met.

“This kid?” McGee asked, looking from the screen to Ziva.

She nodded, snapping her fingers and pointing at the screen. “Yes! Him. There is… there is something about him. Something familiar.”

When she only received frowns from the other two, she supposed she could understand why. After all, Alex was only a teenager, and a British one at that. There was very little chance that they would have crossed paths, unless she had perhaps been on a holiday to the UK at some point, or if Alex had been on a previous holiday to Israel. Which meant that either she was imagining a previous meeting, that hse had seen his face somewhere before, or that they had in fact crossed paths at some point.

Ziva didn’t think herself creative enough to imagine a meeting… but she couldn't quite pinpoint where exactly she could have met or seen the teen before…

“He’s just a British school kid,” Tony pointed out, and Ziva realised that her thoughts must have been showing on her face as they ran through her mind. “Where would you have met him before?”

“I do not know.” But now Ziva was determined to find out. “I will have to ask around.”

“About a teenaged boy?” McGee didn’t exactly scoff, but Ziva could hear the scoffing tone in his voice. Honestly, even she was wondering how far she would get with that through her contacts considering he was literally a child, but she felt the need to follow the lead. A strong need.

At that precise moment, of course, Gibbs walked into the bullpen and headed straight to his desk. Ziva didn’t know what exactly he’d been doing before, but he had a cup of coffee and looked ready to settle down and get some sort of paperwork done or look through some emails… if he even did that anymore. (She was beginning to wonder whether he had even done that in the first place, or whether McGee just did it all for him.) She decided that now was her best chance. She could feel Tony and McGee’s stares, but ignored both of them as she headed over to Gibbs’ desk, leaning on it. “Uh, Gibbs?”

Gibbs barely glanced up when she spoke. “You need permission to do something?” he asked, though it sounded less like a question and more like a statement with his tone.

“I would like to go and question Alex again.”

This time Gibbs did look up at her, glancing at her over his reading glasses. “Alex?”

“Yes.” When he didn’t press further, she took it as her cue to elaborate for him. “I believe… well, I am of the strong opinion that he knows something that he hasn’t yet told us.”

Gibbs stared at her for a few moments, before, “And you think that if you go to him, he’ll tell you.”

“Yes.” It was a long shot, she could tell that even Gibbs thought of it that way, but it was better than nothing. It would get her constant thinking about him off her mind, and would also get them that little bit further on the case if he actually knew something that could be useful to them. The only way they could lose out would be if his family got agitated and stopped them from talking to him again, which she supposed was likely.

The elder agent stared at her for a few more moments, seemingly trying to read something on her face, before he looked back at his computer screen. “Sure. Go ahead.” Whatever he’d seen on her face, he was satisfied with it.

Ziva barely spared Gibbs a smile before she headed to her desk, grabbing her coat, phone, badge and gun. She could feel Tony’s stare burning straight into her as she did so, and she was very tempted to tell him to just spit out what he was thinking instead of just staring at her — it was pretty frustrating.

But she didn’t want to waste time on a little fight with Tony. So she just grabbed her things, and headed straight out.

***

Alex, if he was being honest, really enjoyed spending time with people in Jack’s family. Especially those that were his own age. It had been a while since he’d hung out with people his own age who weren’t automatically suspicious of him or wary of him because they either did or didn’t know about his past (Tom, of course, was the only exception). He was allowed to just be a teen again, and he was quickly realising that this was the exact reason why Jack had brought him on holiday to meet her family — so that he could be a kid again, without the pressures of military intelligence or federal agencies breathing down his neck and waiting to send him off on his next mission. Sure, Joe Byrne was part of the CIA, but somehow there was some sort of unspoken agreement to never use him again, and he was absolutely fine with that. After what had happened in Cairo… he was more than fine with that.

So now he was just chilling with a few of his “cousins”. They’d taken him out to an open space — it looked like a park, but Alex didn’t feel like he would really call it a park when it just felt more like a field — and they’d played a couple of games of small-team baseball before someone had pulled out a football (soccer ball) and they’d started a small game between them. They, funnily enough, hadn’t been all that surprised to find that Alex was actually decent at the game. If anything, they were just impressed, as if someone had told them of his skills before and he’d just exceeded them.

He was beginning to think that Jack had really hyped him up before they’d had the chance to meet him.

They’d only stopped for a short break when a woman approached them where they sat, hands in her coat pockets as she headed over. It was the youngest of the group who was the first to notice her, and when he did he didn’t hesitate to make the rest of their small group aware that there was someone approaching.

Alex, frankly, was just surprised that she’d managed to find him. He, of course, recognised her from when she’d questioned him the other day, and very much knew that she was a federal agent. He didn’t think he had anything particularly traceable on his person, but he supposed he did if this woman was able to track him down.

She only confirmed this when she finally pulled him aside to speak to him in private, away from the eavesdropping ears of the rest of the Starbright boys.

“How did you find me?”

“Well, I guessed that you would have a phone on your person.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. “Isn’t that illegal?” he asked slowly. He got the feeling that she knew it was illegal, especially since he wasn’t exactly a criminal or anything like that, but that she also wasn’t willing to go down that route of conversation.

“I thought I might ask you if there’s anything more you remember from the attack that you haven’t already told us.”

The pair was sitting on a bench now, away from most public footpaths and areas where other people would have been able to spot them and try to listen in on their conversation. Nice in privacy terms for Alex, but if anything happened then he wasn’t quite sure how he could tell the others when they couldn’t really see or hear him. And if anything happened and Jack found out that he’d been out of sight, she’d be more than angry with him. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to continue with this conversation anyway.

“So…” Alex started, not quite sure of where this conversation was going to go, “what do you want to know?”

Special Agent David, Ziva, seemed to pause for a second. She attempted to collect her thoughts, before asking, “The night of the murder of Petty Officer Lewis, do you have any particular memories that you haven’t told us yet?”

Alex blinked at Ziva, feeling very confused. Any particular memories that he hadn’t told them yet? He was pretty sure that he’d told them all he could remember of that night — he’d been heading home from the convenience store when he heard something going on, the Petty Officer was attacked, and he tried to stop the bleeding. What more was there to tell?

A small part at the back of his brain tried to point out that he hadn’t included what had happened between him hearing the yell, the obvious call for help, and the Petty Officer ending up bleeding out beneath his hands whilst he tried to staunch the blood. But he hadn’t felt the need to tell them that part. That part was more need-to-know information.

Though, by the look of it, this NCIS Agent considered herself a person who needed to know. Alex, of course, didn’t know her well enough to think that she, in particular, needed to know, but…

He looked down at the palms of his hands, trying to figure out how to put what he wanted to say, what he needed to tell her, without actually telling her. That was when she asked him another question.

“Do you, perhaps, know the face of the attacker?”

That one made his heart leap into his throat, and for good reason. He was pretty sure he remembered the face of the attacker — and he was pretty sure it was someone he had faced before, in another place, at another time. When he’d first stepped into the alleyway, he’d sworn that the face had looked familiar, and had thought it was just his past coming back to haunt him. Except the person had recognised him too, as if he hadn’t expected Alex to be there. Like Alex wasn’t the target. That had been an interesting revelation, considering his history, but it didn’t stop him from fighting.

Did he tell this woman that he had actually fought off the attacker? Especially when he, well, couldn’t even remember the guy’s name? (He had been a quick one to deal with originally, such an inconvenience of a criminal that he’d only had a short jail sentence. He’d sorted it all out in a weekend, from what he remembered.)

“He was… he was tall,” he admitted. If he was going to help them out, he may as well give them something as accurate as possible so that they could actually catch the bastard. “I couldn’t see much in the dim lighting, but I'm guessing he was blonde? Or at least had fair hair. No idea about eye colour. Fairly well built. He had some sort of an accent when he spoke, but—”

“He spoke?”

The way Ziva asked that made Alex frown a little. Huh. Hadn’t that been a detail that Alex had mentioned before? And then he realised that the attacker would have had no reason to actually speak to him, so he might have avoided that detail originally.

Oops.

“Yeah, uh. He spoke. A few words, but enough to get a gist of the accent, I guess.” Trying to keep it vague that he was multilingual was going to be difficult. He was meant to be a Grammar School teen. Not a Private School prick. What sort of grammar school kid knew more than two or three languages, including their native language? He probably wouldn’t if he’d had an average upbringing and education.

When he realised she hadn’t spoken and was waiting for an elaboration on the kind of the accent the man had, he cleared his throat. ��Uh, I think it was Western European?” Which made a change, considering he’d only met a handful of individuals with such an accent. “Someone from one of the Latin-language countries. Probably Spain or Italy, I’m not completely sure.”

He was completely sure. It had to be Italy — he was very sure that he hadn’t met anyone Spanish who could have made such an impression (and was still alive). He wasn’t going to outright say that and out himself, though.

The agent nodded, pulling a notebook out of her pocket and scribbling down everything that Alex had told her. Glancing over, he realised that she’d written a couple of lines of notes on there already, in Hebrew, but the rest was in English. Huh.

Why did the name David and Hebrew strike a chord with him? He wasn’t Jewish or Christian, but…

He took a look at her face again. Yes, she was definitely familiar now. And he had a pretty good idea of why.

Damn MI6 Spy Life.

It would probably be something he had to Google to clarify, just to make sure he was thinking of the right person, but he was pretty certain that this was the one. And then it occurred to him that if he recognised her, if he had an idea of who she was, what she could do, and who she was related to… then did she know who he was? Because, of course, it very much seemed like she didn’t recognise him. And if she did, she was doing a very good job of hiding it.

“So, Spanish or Italian, tall, blonde or fair hair,” she rattled off, reading through her note briefly. She looked back up at him. “Anything else?”

Could he try to slide in that the man was some sort of drug dealer without her clocking onto how exactly he knew? “He, uh, smelled weird. Kind of like weed.” Yeah, that worked. He was a teenager, not an idiot. He knew more than a handful of people who smoked weed, and he’d come face-to-face with a dealer more than once, so that would work as a way. Not that those would be in his files or public knowledge or anything.

Wait, had they even accessed his files?

Ziva noted down his comment on how the attacker smelled. “Anything else?”

Was there anything else that he could safely give away without outing himself? “He seemed pretty good at hand-to-hand combat.”

That earned him a raised eyebrow from the agent.

“I play a lot of video games.” Not a lie, but not the complete truth either. He would rather cry himself to sleep than play loads of rounds of Call Of Duty or whatever other war-themed video games were out there without a break. He did, however, enjoy a couple of games of FIFA or Skyrim every once in a while. Those games were actually fun, no matter how much Tom griped at him for “not wanting to play anything fun”. (As if FIFA wasn’t fun, the idiot.)

Honestly, he wasn’t sure whether the agent accepted his excuse. It sounded weak, even in his ears. But then she was moving on, not questioning him about it or trying to press further on that particular point.

The rest of her questioning was pretty basic, in Alex’s opinion. He could tell she was trying to probe a little about his past, about what his home life was like and why he’d decided to try and save a random stranger when he wasn’t trained to. Why he’d gone in head-first instead of calling for someone else to help. After all… he had been in a military neighbourhood. There were bound to be many trained people around who could have actually helped whilst he called the emergency services.

Alex had just shrugged in response. He wasn’t the type to let an urgent situation go unnoticed when he felt as if he could help, and he made sure to tell her that. When he noticed the look in her eyes at that comment, he knew he should have phrased it differently. Or maybe he was over-thinking things. It wasn’t as if people would automatically think that he assumed he could help everyone with his limited skills from that comment, right?

Maybe he just looked and sounded like an egotistical teenager.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of discussion, the agent got to her feet. Alex followed her cue, more than glad to be done with the interview… or rather, questioning. It had almost felt like what had happened when he’d been at NCIS with Jack, except Jack wasn’t there scrutinising the agent’s every word or any little thing that Alex insinuated. If anything, he had been a bit freer to talk with the agent in the park, but he still very much had to watch what he was saying.

Not that MI6 or the CIA would let anything go too far or get leaked to people who had no idea of the situation, no. That would be more a matter of international security. But anyway.

“Thank you very much for taking the time to speak with me, Alex,” Ziva responded, closing her notebook and tucking it into her pocket. “It was very informative.”

Alex gave a nod, hesitating for a brief moment before asking, “Will you… well, if the case gets solved, will you tell me who did it?” At the little frown on her face, he hurried to cover his mess-up. “I’m just curious about it all. You know. Since I, well, I tried to help the guy and ended up unable to… you know?” Well, here he was hoping that she just took his answer at face value. He was pretty sure he sounded enough like a curious and hopeful teenage to pass it off.

He didn’t quite know what vibe he was trying to give off to Ziva, actually. It was turning into a real mix.

There were a few beats where no one said anything, and Alex felt as if he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. And then she spoke. “Of course. I can make sure you’re told when we catch the attackers. You will probably have to come in to try and identify them anyway — we may have to bring you in to help with profiling.”

Alex gave a nod, though he really did not want to have to do that. Otherwise, Jack would know that they’d spoken to him without her there, and she wouldn’t be pleased.

Agent David gave one last nod, watching Alex for a couple more moments, before turning and heading away, leaving Alex to head back to his “cousins”. And when they asked about what he had been talking about for so long, he would give them a vague explanation… even though he definitely knew that someone would tell Jack about it.

As if he really needed Jack finding out about this right now.

[blossom-hwa]

Love a Demon - JAEMIN

uh.... yeah.... i was on hiatus.... sorry for my super long absence. school’s been kicking my ass and i’ve really been hating everything recently... i wasn’t in such a good place. but i found some time to write and that coincided with some lucky inspiration for this fic, so i’ve finally finished it! as for the messages in my inbox, i’ll answer 

thank you thank you yet again to @chenle for the idea of guardian devils that gave birth to this entire series! if you want to read it, here it is! 

Pairing: Jaemin x fem!reader 

Genre: angst, fluff, angel/demon!au

Triggers: death, cancer (I tried to portray things as accurately as I could which was difficult because I don’t have experience in the matter; I did not intend to romanticize anything and if you find that I did, please please message me and let me know how I can fix it!)

Notes: reading “Trust a Demon” or “Kiss an Angel” isn’t required to understand most of the story, but it might make some things less confusing. Both of Mark’s and Chenle’s stories are mentioned here anyway. 

Word Count: 7.6k

Loving a demon comes at a price. 

NCT Masterlist | Angels and Demons

Love begins slowly.

. . . . .

Jaemin walks out of Lucifer’s throne room, wincing. Two new characters are imprinted into the curve of his wrist, visible only to him.

They’re paler than he expected.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, testing your name out on his tongue. “Y/N L/N.”

“Who’s Y/N?” Haechan asks out of the blue, slinging an arm around Jaemin’s neck. “New girlfriend?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, shoving Haechan’s arm away. “No. New assignment. And I’ve only ever had one girlfriend!”

“Hence the ‘new’,” the older boy huffs, replacing his arm.

“That makes it sound like I’ve had more than one already!” Jaemin complains.

“Connotation, Hyuck, I’ve told you about this before,” Mark says, walking up. “Just because you were born in a century when connotation wasn’t a word doesn’t mean you don’t understand its meaning. New assignment, Jaemin?”

“Yeah.” Jaemin almost shows Mark his wrist before remembering that only he can see it. “Y/N L/N. Her last guardian demon… he almost left her to die. Lucifer wasn’t happy, so he’s serving punishment now.”

All three demons wince.

“Cute,” Haechan finally says, making a face.

“How is punishment cute?” Jisung says, startling them all.

“Stop sneaking up like that!” Mark snaps.

“It’s a colloquial term used to describe pretty much anything,” Haechan explains. “Shouldn’t you know, Jisung, since you literally just got out of preschool?”

Jaemin just pinches Jisung’s scowling cheek and smiles. “Jisung is cute. Punishment is not,” he decides, looking at his wrist again. “I should probably go and check out this Y/N girl. So I know what she looks like and all. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

There’s the usual chorus of goodbyes, and then Jaemin touches his tattoo and is sent to earth.

“I’ll never get used to this,” he mutters, blinking rapidly. The sun is almost too bright compared to the darkness of hell, and it takes a while to adjust. The nauseating feeling of being pulled apart and put back together again eases quickly though, and after a few minutes, he feels well again.

“Y/N L/N,” he whispers, listening intently for any sounds of the name. “Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N!” someone shouts nearby. Jaemin whips around, turning towards the shout.

And then he sees you.

You’re laughing, bag slung over your back, hair tumbling over your shoulders as you talk animatedly with someone Jaemin assumes is your friend. He can see your twinkling eyes, your wide smile, your tanned skin, and for a moment, he’s mesmerized.

He’s glad that his friends didn’t come along, or they’d probably be teasing him about his flaring cheeks. He’s also glad that no one can see him, because he’s sure that they’d think he’s a creep for staring.

With a start, he realizes his time is running out. You’re walking away anyway, going someplace else. He weaves through the crowd and ends up behind a row of shops, full of the shade and shadows that characterize his home.

As he melts into the darkness, Jaemin thinks to himself that he’ll never forget your face.

. . . . .

Love is complicated.

. . . . .

Jaemin’s first time saving you happens not two weeks after he first sees you, and it’s nothing like he expects.

“What are you doing here?” he yells at the boy who’s glaring at him with just as much hatred.

“She’s my assignment, what about you?” Jeno sneers, refusing to back down.

Anger gives way to confusion which in turn gives way to guilt over how lost and scared you look, caught between the two boys, eyes wide with fear and bewilderment.

“How can she be your assignment when she’s mine?” Jaemin asks, the venom fading from his voice.

Jeno’s eyes fill with the same confusion he’s sure are in his, and he shakes his head. “Stop lying,” he snaps, but Jaemin knows that Jeno’s bluffing.

“No lie, Jael,” Jaemin smirks, regaining some of his former confidence. “Lost your touch? Can’t tell when I’m lying or not anymore?”

Jeno scowls, his eyes turning murderous. “Don’t call me that,” he seethes. “You don’t deserve to.”

“Uh… guys?”

Both boys turn their heads to you, eyes softening immediately. You’re gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles are turning white but the fear in your eyes is mostly gone, replaced by cautious curiosity. “What… what’s going on?” You take a deep breath, loosening your grip. “I saw the block falling… and someone pulled me away… who was it?” You look between the two boys, and Jaemin swears his heart stops beating when you look into his eyes for that one split second.

“Me,” he finally gets out. “It was me.”

Jeno scoffs quietly but doesn’t argue. If there’s anything good about the angel, it’s that he won’t tell lies.

Your soft smile is worth seeing his enemy again. “How… how did you do it so fast? It was…” You laugh a little shakily. “If I hadn’t almost died, I’d be raving over how cool that was. Anyway, uh, thank you.” You laugh again. “I owe you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jeno interrupts, looking annoyed. “It was his job.”

Oh, fuck you, Jael.

“Job?” you echo, looking lost yet again.

“Why do you ruin everything, Ja - Jeno?” Jaemin snaps, ignoring Jeno’s slight flinch. “Now we have to tell her!”

Jeno blinks once, then twice, then shrugs slightly. To anyone who didn’t know him well, they’d believe his casualness, but Jaemin can still read his former best friend like a book. He knows Jeno is just as confused by his actions as he is.

A sigh escapes Jaemin’s lips, but he forces a gentle smile just to put you at ease. “We’re… well, he’s a guardian angel.” Jaemin gestures slightly at Jeno. “And, uh, I’m a demon. A guardian demon.”

There’s a long moment of silence between the three of you.

“Angels and demons exist?” you finally ask.

“Yes, they do,” Jeno replies, cutting Jaemin off. A flash of annoyance runs through the demon and he knows Jeno noticed. Jaemin didn’t miss the angel’s tiny smirk.

Your voice cuts into Jaemin’s thoughts. “I’ve never heard of a guardian demon before.”

“Well, now you have.” Jaemin laughs slightly, edging a little closer to you. He doesn’t miss the way Jeno’s eyes latch onto the small movement and a slight sense of triumph runs through him.

“So I have a guardian angel and a guardian demon?” you ask. “How come I’ve never seen either of you until now?”

“Well, technically you’re only supposed to have one,” Jeno breaks in. “Either an angel or a demon. But I guess the universe screwed up this time.” The glance Jeno sends Jaemin is brief but full of venom that Jaemin returns. “And we only appear when you’re in a life or death situation, like just now.”

You nod slowly. “Interesting,” you murmur, looking between the boys curiously. “Well, it was nice meeting you…” You trail off, realizing you don’t know their names.

The two boys look at each other instinctively, wordlessly coming to an agreement. They look away just as quickly.

“Jaemin.”

“Jeno.”

“It was nice meeting you, Jaemin and Jeno,” you finish sweetly, bowing slightly to them both. “I’ll leave now. Thank you for saving my life,” you add, flashing Jaemin another sweet smile.

Jaemin can feel his heart thumping.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he replies, smiling back. A tinge of satisfaction runs through his veins as he sees Jeno’s eye twitch. “Try not to get into too much trouble,” he teases gently.

“I will,” you tease back conspiratorially, and with a slight wave, you leave.

Once you’re gone, the tension between the angel and demon becomes palpable again, so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“Of course if the universe screwed up, it’d have to put me with you,” Jeno spits bitterly.

“You think this is any fun for me?” Jaemin snaps back.

Jeno scoffs once, then disappears in a flash of light.

“Well, fuck you too,” Jaemin mutters, melting into the shadows.

. . . . .

Love grows quickly.

. . . . .

“I’m only seeing her to make sure she’s okay,” Jaemin whispers to himself as he walks down the street. “Just to make sure she’s okay.”

Deep inside, he knows that’s a lie, but he shoves that thought away. You’ve nearly died twice now, and though you didn’t look too shaken up the last time, Jaemin could see that you were trembling slightly. He could feel you shaking in his grasp as he gave your hand one last squeeze, ignoring Jeno’s glare, before you walked away.

Maybe it’s just Jaemin, but he can’t seem to forget the way you smiled that first time he saved you. He hated the terrified look in your eyes that last time and he feels he’d do anything to see you smile again.

Humming slightly, he opens the door to the music store where you work. His eyes sweep the shop until they land on your figure as you arrange CDs on shelves. He immediately makes a beeline for you.

When he’s a few feet away, you turn around, perhaps hearing his footsteps. It’s with surprise that you greet him with a quiet exclamation of his name as you put away the last CD. “Why’re you here?” you ask, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

Jaemin swallows, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Just…” He swallows again, then composes himself. “Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay after what happened… last time.”

Your eyes darken slightly and Jaemin feels bad for making you remember, but the look clears after a bit and you smile at him a little sadly. “I’m fine, Jaemin,” you say softly, eyes flitting around. “There are worse things than death.”

He frowns a little. What is that supposed to mean?

“Anyway, where’s Jeno?” you ask, clearly trying to divert the topic. “I thought you two were a package deal or something. You two always appear together.”

A sour expression twists Jaemin’s face. “Not willingly,” he mutters.

“Oh. Uh… sorry.” Your awkwardly apologetic face tilts the corners of Jaemin’s mouth though, and he laughs. “It’s alright, Y/N. It’s a reasonable question.”

“He’s an angel and you’re a demon, right?” you ask. “Mind explaining to me how this works in more detail? I know you said some stuff the first time we met, but I didn’t quite grasp it.”

Jaemin bites his lip, looking at the clock at the back of the store.

I’m going to be in so much trouble when I get back, he thinks wryly. He isn’t supposed to even see you outside of life and death situations, and now you’re asking him to explain this convoluted world of angels and demons. It’s all technically forbidden.

But for some reason, he doesn’t care.

Mark did it, didn’t he? Jaemin reasons. Plus, he wouldn’t pass up a chance to see your eyes light up with wonder the same way they did when you first met.

“Sure,” he hears himself say. “When’s your break? We can go to the café next door.”

You wave him off, grinning. “It isn’t busy and my brother owns this place,” you say. “Let’s go!”

And later, when Jaemin looks at you over his cup of Americano, seeing your eyes sparkling with curiosity, he wonders if love can really come this quickly.

. . . . .

Love comes steadily.

. . . . .

A lashing the first time, two lashings the second. Jaemin doesn’t care. Seeing your face is worth the pain.

Mark tells him no, it shouldn’t be. But Na Jaemin doesn’t care. Doesn’t Mark have a girlfriend, anyway? A human girlfriend?

“It’s - that’s a special case!” Mark sputters, trying to dissuade the younger boy, but Jaemin later notices that Mark’s stopped trying to persuade him so much.

Sometimes, though, Jaemin wishes Mark tried harder to stop him. Because with every time Jaemin sees you, he wants less and less to leave.

He also wishes Jeno could just butt out of his life, but clearly the universe has other plans.

“Leave her alone,” Jeno hisses one day, cornering Jaemin as he’s coming out of the music shop for the nth time. Jaemin flinches slightly in surprise before setting his features in a hard, cold, look.

“And why should I?”

“You’re corrupting her,” Jeno spits. “And you’re not supposed to be with her, exception or no.”

“Too bad I’ve never quite been one for rules, though, Jael,” Jaemin replies with forced lightness. He refuses to look at the older boy but can feel his gaze boring into his skin. “And corrupting? I think that’s a bit of a strong word, don’t you think?”

“Clearly not if I just used it,” Jeno snaps. “I choose my words carefully, unlike you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

There’s a sigh, and then Jeno’s forcing Jaemin to face him, ignoring all the strange looks he’s receiving from passerby. “What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses. “Telling her sweet words, making promises you can’t keep, revealing everything? She’s a human, she’s your assignment, for heaven’s sake. All you’re doing is hurting her!”

The words strike a little close to home but Jaemin’s face remains neutral. “If I didn’t know better,” he replies coolly, “I’d think you cared for her.” A smirk twitches the side of his lip. “But we both know that isn’t true, right?” He spins around to walk away.

“I may not be able to stop you,” Jeno says behind him, “but your kind most certainly can.”

Jaemin’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look back.

He can’t stop the slight guilt in his chest, though, the next time he sees you.

Jeno wasn’t completely wrong about Jaemin’s words.

. . . . .

Love is difficult.

. . . . .

One year passes. You grow closer to Jaemin. Jaemin becomes more attached to you.

And the tattoo on his wrist begins to lose its boldness and becomes lighter.

Jaemin wonders if you know your life is ebbing away. He wonders if you know that this tentative romance between him and you cannot last. That it likely won’t even reach full bloom.

If he had more time, if he didn’t have Jeno on his back, Jaemin thinks you could have a beautiful love, just like the one Mark has with his girlfriend. Mark doesn’t know it, but Jaemin envies him and his luck.

“I find it intriguing how some people have happy endings while others don’t,” you remark one day. Jaemin’s helping you put away records and CDs on the shelves but he stops when he hears your words.

“Intriguing.”

“Yes, intriguing.” You turn around to face him. “Some people have happy endings but don’t deserve them. Some have sad endings but don’t deserve them. Is that really fair?”

A cold awkwardness begins to settle in the air. Jaemin looks at you, really looks at you, and notices the changes in your appearance. Eye bags, listless hair, pale skin. Your eyes aren’t sparkling like they usually are. Your lips don’t smile like they usually do.

He realizes you have less time than even he thought.

“Have you been speaking with Jeno?” Jaemin whispers. His mind kicks into overdrive. If you have, then just how much has he told you?

You don’t answer, instead opening another box of CDs.

“Have you?” Jaemin presses.

Finally, you look up. “And if I have?”

It hurts, knowing that you’ve met with his sworn enemy with the full knowledge that they hate each other. Still, Jaemin tries to understand.

Trying to understand doesn’t stop him from wanting to spit in Jeno’s face. Seeing as the angel isn’t here, however, he settles for taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Jeno and I have very different beliefs,” he begins carefully. “He believes that all should be fair. If someone has done good deeds, why should they have their life cut short when they could be given the gift of life for longer?”

You don’t look at him, but Jaemin knows you’re listening. He continues. “And yet… who is he to decide whether or not someone may live longer? Who is God to decide that? If the universe ordained someone’s life to be as long as it is… who has the right to change fate?”

Placing the last few CDs on the shelf, you finally turn around again. Jaemin sees the pain in your face and knows that you know how short your life will be.

“Angels believe some lives should be prolonged, while others may be shortened. Demons believe lives should stay the same length they were preordained to. I am a demon, so you know what I believe. I do not know which side is right or wrong. Beliefs do not mean truth. But that is what I believe.”

You nod slightly.

“Nothing is truly fair. You can divide your candies into two piles of equal amounts but none of the candies are the same size. You can try to pour equal amounts of milk into two glasses but they will never be the same. Bad people may die rich. Good people may die poor. But at the end of the day, as callous as it sounds, it is their fate. They will be rewarded or punished as they must be in the afterlife.”

The silence between you two extends until the bell at the door rings, signaling the arrival of another customer. Without a second glance, without another word, you brush past Jaemin to greet them.

Jaemin sighs. While you’re busy, he walks out of the store. The bell rings, signaling his exit, but you don’t follow him.

He sets off to find Jeno.

. . . . .

Love is hard.

. . . . .

“Jael!” Jaemin yells, startling the angel into turning around. His mouth twists into a snarl.

Jeno only looks at Jaemin haughtily. “What do you want?”

Jaemin sneers, eyes flashing with fire. “So you told me to stay away from Y/N,” he seethes, “but then you go and tell her a bunch of crap about me, right? Hypocrite, much?”

The angel stiffens slightly but still says nothing.

“What is wrong with you?!” Jaemin yells. “What is your problem?! I get that you hate me and I do too but for fuck’s sake, I would never purposely try to ruin your happiness!”

“So you admit it, then?” Jeno’s quiet voice startles Jaemin. “You admit that she’s your happiness?”

Wind rustles through the trees, picking up the leaves and sending them swirling around. Agitated, Jaemin doesn’t realize that the leaves are starting to swirl around him as his powers react to his emotions.

Jaemin’s stuck. He can’t say no, because Jeno knows when he lies. And he basically just admitted it. So why doesn’t he say anything? Why doesn’t he loudly declare his love for you?

As the leaves swirl around him faster and faster, whipping through his hair and crackling in the air, Jaemin stares at Jeno’s eyes, and he knows why he doesn’t loudly claim his love.

Jeno’s eyes, so dark and mysterious, so beautiful and dangerous, hold no anger. No resentment.

Only sadness.

And Jaemin realizes that Jeno loves you too.

He doesn’t need to say anything, though. The look in his eyes, the swirling leaves, his flushed face all speak volumes of the truth. Jeno doesn’t need words to know.

The angel gives the demon one last, long look before disappearing in a flash of light.

All the fight leaves Jaemin’s body and the leaves flutter to the ground, scattering themselves around him. He sinks down, staring at the leaf that’s fallen onto his lap.

It’s a burst of orange, yellow, red, a bright sunset captured in a single leaf. But there’s a touch of soggy brown at the tip, hinting at its inevitable decay.

Like you.

Jaemin sighs, twirling the leaf in his fingers before slipping it into his pocket. His eyes flutter to your name on his wrist, and his chest tightens at how light the writing is getting. Then, making sure no one is around, he disappears into the shadow of a nearby tree.

As he fades into the darkness, he wonders if you really, really know just how little time you have left.

. . . . .

Love is powerful.

. . . . .

Jaemin knows when he next sees you. The sallow bags under your eyes, the pallor of your skin. The hair hanging limp across your shoulders, the tired upturn of your lips that you send him when he walks in.

“Hi,” you greet listlessly, trying and failing to conjure your usual verve. Jaemin regrets all the weeks he spent avoiding you, thinking that you hated him.

But still, how did you change this much in a mere few weeks?

“Hi,” he replies cautiously, his heart aching.

“Nice of you to see me again,” you say.

When I’m dying.

You don’t say the words, but they hang in the air, unsaid but heavy. Stifling.

Jaemin swallows. “I’m sorry.”

The tired smile on your face grows a little warmer, your eyes regaining a little bit of their past brightness. “It’s okay,” you say. “I’m sorry, too.”

Silence.

You finally laugh a little. “You probably know, don’t you?” The glance you give his wrist saves him from answering. “I’m dying. Got the diagnosis last week. Cancer.” You lean down to pick up a box of CDs, but Jaemin rushes over and takes it from you. “Sit down for a bit,” he says. “Where do you need this?”

“Jaemin, I can do it,” you protest, but Jaemin shakes his head. “Let me.”

Silence falls in the shop. It’s late, and Jaemin knows your brother must be home by now, but he’s not. He asks why.

“He’s at the hospital. Figuring things out.” You huff a little. “I was supposed to go but I didn’t want to. I hate hospitals.”

Hearing those words almost makes Jaemin break down, but he forces himself to stay calm. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“Don’t worry.” Suddenly you’re next to him, a hand on his arm, looking up with bright, sad eyes. “I understand. I’m sorry I didn’t before.” You muster up a small smile. “I guess it’s just my time.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

Jaemin places the box down with a thud, spinning around to pull you into a crushing embrace, feeling your tears begin to soak his shirt. He closes his eyes, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the slight scent of your shampoo while trying not to cry himself. But despite his efforts, a tear escapes his eye.

When you finally pull away, face teary, Jaemin takes your hands, looking deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry for one more thing,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I never told you I loved you.”

. . . . .

Love is inopportune.

. . . . .

Maybe Jaemin is neglecting his other duties. Maybe he isn’t being a proper guardian demon, and maybe Lucifer has a legitimate reason for being angry at him. But in his defense, nothing’s been happening with his other three assignments. And as much as he doesn’t like it, he knows he would leave your side in a heartbeat, if only for a short while, to save them.

Skin blistering, Jaemin blinks tears out of his eyes as he walks out of the throne room. He winces, catching a glimpse of the red, inflamed flesh of his shoulder.

“Jeez, Jaemin,” Haechan comments. “Maybe you should really take a step back.”

“Who are you to talk?” Jaemin snaps. “You spend all your time mooning over a girl who can’t even see you!”

Haechan reels, looking hurt.

“Don’t tell me I wouldn’t understand, because I do!” Jaemin ignores the screaming pain in his shoulder, gesticulating wildly. “I fucking love her, Haechan! I fucking do! This is killing me! And you expect me to take a fucking step back?!”

“Shut up, Jaemin, just shut up!” Haechan yells. “Shut up!”

“SHE IS DYING, AND YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE HER SIDE?!” Jaemin screams, tears of pain and sadness springing into his eyes.

“YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO LOVES SOMEONE AS MUCH AS YOU DO!” Haechan yells, scraping his arm across his face.

Jaemin whirls around, ready to stalk off, but someone blocks his way. He looks up, ready to go off again, but softens slightly when he sees Jisung looking between his two friends. “Hi, Jisung,” he says in a clipped tone.

“Hi,” the younger boy says cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing -”

“Jaemin here is being an idiot,” Haechan spits.

“YOU LITERALLY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I’M GOING THROUGH, AND YOU’RE GOING TO CALL ME AN IDIOT?!”

“Whoa.” With an authority Jaemin didn’t know he had, Jisung places a calming hand on his friends’ arms. “Okay. I think I know what’s going on.”

Haechan scoffs, but Jisung takes no notice. A sad, faraway look envelops his young face, and he hangs his head slightly. “Let’s go talk somewhere else.”

So that’s how three demons find themselves on a quiet field, sitting stiffly on the grass, two of them refusing point-blank to look at each other. Jisung glances at both of them, sees their animosity, and sighs.

“You’re both in love with humans. People you’re supposed to guard.” He states the fact simply, without glamour or fanfare.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaemin sees Haechan nod slightly. He does the same.

“I loved someone once. First love. We met through dance at the academy, started dating in high school. Then I died.”

The admission falls out of Jisung’s lips as naturally as water over a cliff, but the words seem so alien that for a moment, animosity forgotten, his two friends only stare at him open-mouthed. His words are so frank, so utterly honest and natural, and yet they can’t believe it. How could Jisung, their quiet and innocent friend, have ever loved someone to the depth that he claims he has? Sweet, quiet Jisung, who never knows what’s going on? 

But his eyes tell the truth. And right now, they convey a knowledge far beyond the boy’s years. Jaemin listens intently, ears straining to catch every word.

“I thought I’d never see her again. I became friends with you guys and the others in heaven, then we joined Lucifer, and long story short, I thought she would have forgotten about me. At least ten years had passed by then. I wouldn’t have blamed her.” Jisung stares into the distance, plucking at the grass absentmindedly. “And then her guardian angel almost failed her, and by some stupid trick of fate, I got assigned to her instead.”

Haechan sucks in a breath.

“She hadn’t forgotten about me.” Jisung sighs. “Every year she went back to my grave. She talked to me as though I was still alive. She never stopped, not even… not even after she got married.”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to gasp.

“She’s happy now.” Jaemin looks over to see Jisung smiling slightly, the brightness truly reaching his eyes. “And I am too. I’m glad she’s happy, and not still hung up over me.” He pauses, and his smile grows wider. “I’m not hung up over her, either.”

There’s a small silence, broken only by the wind whistling across the field.

Jisung clears his throat. “Point is, I get what you guys are thinking. And it’s hard. Haechan, you know how hard it is. She doesn’t even know you exist. So be a bit more understanding to Jaemin.”

Haechan nods almost imperceptibly.

“And Jaemin, it’s difficult, yes, but keep her in mind. Make her days feel as full and bright as possible. Let her leave with as few regrets as possible.” Jisung smiles a little. “You’ll always love her, and she’ll always love you.”

And the more Jaemin thinks about it, Jisung is right. He looks over at the younger boy with a newfound respect, marveling at the hidden wisdom behind the boy’s young face. “Thanks, ‘Sung,” he says, before turning to Haechan. “And I’m sorry, Haechan.”

Haechan nods. “I’m sorry, too.”

Jisung breaks the short silence that follows by standing up, dusting blades of grass off of his pants. “Mark’s girlfriend invited us to dinner when I was with them earlier. We should probably go now.”

Jisung and Haechan disappear into the shadows, but Jaemin lingers a bit longer, lost in his thoughts. They still whirl around his mind, just as chaotic as before, but not so fast. A little calmer.

Maybe he feels a bit more at peace too.

Jaemin closes his eyes, feeling the wind on his face. It ripples through his hair, his clothes, and brushes gently, coolly, against his skin.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was the universe, telling him that things will be alright.

. . . . .

Love has no kindness.

. . . . .

“I’m back,” Jaemin says softly, reappearing in your hospital room long after the place has closed. In one hand he carries a bag of food, and in the other, one of your favorite books.

“Good.” Your muffled voice is tired but when you roll over slightly, careful not to disturb the needles in your arms, your eyes are happy. You make small grabbing motions with your hands. “Food.”

Jaemin laughs. “Always hungry,” he teases, setting the bag carefully on the table. Laughing at your whining, he pokes a cookie in between your lips. “Here.”

You hum in delight, chewing the cookie, and reach over to turn on the bedside lamp. With it, Jaemin can see your sunken features, your overly pale skin, your shaved head. And his heart hurts.

Something hits his chest. “Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, gesturing at the snack now lying on the floor. “I’m fine. Now eat something!”

“Sorry.” He picks up the snack, unwrapping it slowly as he sits on the bed next to you. “I just… never mind.”

“Hey.” You pause in picking up another cookie to take his hand instead.

Your hands are warm. They fit perfectly in his.

“You’re the one who told me things can’t be changed, right?” you murmur, looking up at him. “Nothing is going to change. I wish it wasn’t like this either, but what can I do?” You shrug as best you can, lying down in the bed. “What can you do?”

Nothing. The word hangs unsaid in the air, enveloping the room in a dark cloud of sadness.

He can’t do anything.

As much as he wants to, he can’t. Maybe if you were supposed to die in a car crash he could save you from that. Pull you out of the car. Shield you from something.

But against this illness? He can’t do anything to prevent it from spreading. He has no medical knowledge. He knows nothing. And even if he did, he couldn’t do it.

Not even Jeno can try to turn this matter around.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.”

Your hands squeeze his with surprising strength. “Don’t be.”

“I wish I were as strong as you.” Jaemin’s voice is choked, a little broken, and full of guilt.

“But Jaemin, you are.” You smile a little, its brightness reaching your eyes ever so slightly. “You love me. Loving takes strength. To love someone broken takes even more.”

“You’re not broken.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Jaemin presses a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe at one point you were, but you aren’t now. Broken would imply you’re missing something. Or some part of you isn’t working. Is that true?”

“Yeah. My immune system.” You snicker, watching him roll your eyes. But the mischievous glint fades away to a peaceful glimmer, full of warmth and love, that dissipates the cold, damp sadness that had settled in the room.

Jaemin idly begins to play around with your fingers and you let him, closing your eyes in contentment. A tiny smile plays on your face, and Jaemin can’t help the kiss he presses to your lips.

You open your eyes. “Do that again,” you whisper.

And with a smile, he does.

. . . . .

Love has a price.

. . . . .

“Jaoel.”

Jaemin stiffens, turning around to come face to face with Jeno.

“Who’s the one that didn’t want me calling them by their God-given name?” he mocks.

Tension crackles in the air as the two beings stare at each other. Jeno bites his lip hard and Jaemin smirks. He knows that habit. Jeno does it whenever he’s trying to hold back his anger.

“Are you really going to let her die?” Jeno finally says, raising a tense eyebrow.

The hairs on Jaemin’s neck stand up. “Don’t you dare,” he says lowly.

“Don’t I dare what, Jaoel?” Jeno laughs mirthlessly, eyes fixating on Jaemin’s with an intensity that can’t be matched. “Tell me. Don’t. I. Dare. What?”

Dead silence.

“You’re not the only one who loves her, you know,” Jeno whispers.

“And you’re not the person who knows best for her!” Jaemin snaps.

“And are you, Jaemin? ARE YOU?!”

Jeno’s shout makes Jaemin flinch slightly, but he holds his ground. “No,” he hisses, “but I know that she doesn’t deserve to suffer even more than she already is.”

Pure pain flashes through Jeno’s eyes for one second and Jaemin can commiserate, remembering with a pang at how weak and pale you seemed the last time he saw you. “Would you really want her to suffer like this?” he murmurs. Heart heavy, he turns around, ready to leave.

Behind him, Jeno snorts derisively. “Do you really love her if you would let her go so easily?” he spits, eyes full of pain and fury. “Is that really love, Jaoel? Is that all she’s worth to you?”

Jaemin whips around, eyes ablaze. “Don’t you dare insinuate that I want her to die!” he yells.

“If you truly loved her, you’d want her to live as long as possible,” Jeno snarls back.

“This is what I hate about you angels!” Jaemin’s shouting, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the pain in his heart whenever he thinks about your smile and the sacrifice he has to make. “You always think everything can be perfect, but it can’t! Nothing can be perfect! No one, just because they are who they are, can live longer than they are supposed to! You can’t decide that!”

The angel snorts derisively. “And look at you,” he mocks, “all high and mighty because you think you’re doing the right thing. But should some lives not be preserved for as long as possible?” Tears brim in Jeno’s eyes and Jaemin can tell it’s taking all of his effort not to crumple into a crying mess, but the angel remains standing. “You can’t tell me you don’t believe she deserves it. No, not even her - you can’t tell me you’ve never met a single person who deserved to live longer than they did!”

Jaemin squeezes his eyes tight as he tries to shut away all the memories of you. But it doesn’t work. Your face flits through his mind. Your laugh, your smile, your eyes. The way you cry. The way you shout with joy. The way you clasp his hand in yours, grinning as bright as the sun.

He remembers the way you looked in the hospital, paler, weaker, but with a smile still bright enough to light up the entire room, and Jaemin knows that if there was anyone he knew that deserved to live longer, that would be you.

The demon finally looks up, all signs of his usual flirtatious smile gone. His eyes bore into Jeno’s, which are teary and full of pain. Jaemin’s heart does ache for him, because he knows now just how much Jeno loves you.

But you love Jaemin. You chose him. And there’s nothing he nor Jeno can do to change that.

“Do you think I want her to die?” he whispers. “Do you really think I want her to die?”

Jeno doesn’t speak.

“Life is only precious because there is death. The only thing people can do is treasure life as long they have it,” Jaemin says, practically choking on his words. He latches onto them, grasps them like a drowning man with a rope because they have to be true. If they aren’t, he… he doesn’t know. He will have chosen sides for nothing. Lost half of everything important to him over nothing.

Watched you die for nothing.

“Then,” Jeno says quietly, voice still carrying like a gunshot, “shouldn’t people have it longer?”

Jaemin swallows hard. “If that is so, Jael, then why aren’t humans immortal?”

Silence.

“Part of loving someone is knowing when you must let them go,” he whispers.

. . . . .

Love is tragic.

. . . . .

Jaemin freezes upon entering your room. Jeno does as well. You look between the two boys, a weak, amused smile twitching your lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jaemin replies cautiously. “Why’s he here?”

“We were discussing things,” Jeno says shortly. Surprised, Jaemin turns to him, not having expected him to answer. “Can you leave us for a bit?”

Reluctant, Jaemin looks at you, but the content expression on your face convinces him to leave. Outside in the hall, he waits impatiently, tapping his foot anxiously against the floor. Then, the door opens and almost knocks him flat.

Jeno looks at him blankly. “Sorry.” He then starts to walk off.

“Hey!” Jaemin snaps. “What were you talking about in there?”

The angel’s back tenses, but he does turn around. “I was giving her some closure. About me.”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to tense, and he has to force himself to remain calm.

“Don’t worry.” Jeno laughs a little, mirthlessly. “She still loves you.”

Looking down that hospital hall, Jaemin feels a twinge in his heart. A twinge of pity. His shoulders untense and he looks into Jeno’s eyes which, for once, are not angry. Only sad. Upset. A little hopeless.

And Jaemin finds it in his heart to say something to Jeno that he never thought he’d say, ever since he left the white purity of heaven for the dark flames of hell.

“I’m sorry.”

The angel’s eyes widen, and ever so slightly, they soften.

“Don’t be.”

“But I am.”

It’s not just about you. It’s about everything else. Betraying his friend. Leaving heaven. And maybe the bad blood will never be cleared between them, but at least he knows he apologized.

Jaemin bites his lip, hoping his eyes can convey everything he’s leaving unsaid. For ten long, agonizing seconds, the two boys stare at each other, unblinking. Then Jeno nods slightly.

“And I am too.”

He turns around and continues walking until he disappears into another corridor. When Jaemin’s sure that Jeno won’t come back, he lets himself into your room again.

“Finally, I was about to call for you!” you exclaim as Jaemin sits on the chair next to your bed. “I thought you and Jeno were having a fistfight out there or something, you were gone for so long.”

Jaemin smiles a little. “Not fighting. Just… talking.���

“From your expression I take that it went well,” you comment, looking up at him.

Jaemin shrugs, but the smile doesn’t fade. “I guess it did.”

. . . . .

Love is loss.

. . . . .

Jaemin is with you when you die. He is there, holding your hand with a grip invisible to everyone but you and him. He is there, watching the heart monitor become slower. He is there, listening to your breaths become fewer and fewer. He is there, pressing a last, soft kiss to your lips, and he is there, feeling your tiny sigh of content against his face, seeing the slight flutter of your eyelashes as you make an effort to look at him, hearing the faint ‘I love you’ that passes your lips.

A few hours pass. Your family and friends congregate in the room, watching you sadly, not noticing the demon in the room. And then the heart monitor goes flat.

You’re dead.

You’re dead, and everything hurts.

For two days, Jaemin locks himself in his room, alternately crying and staring into space. Your name on his wrist has faded away completely. It’s as though you never existed. But of course, he knows you did.

Why do I get this fate? Jaemin wonders. Even Chenle got a happy ending. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he begrudges the fallen angel slightly for his newfound freedom to spend the rest of eternity with the risen demon he loves.

Why?

What did I do to deserve this?

It’s selfish, he knows. Jeno must be suffering just as much as him. But at least he might find you in heaven, whereas Jaemin isn’t sure if you’d give up heaven to come to hell.

It ends up being Jisung who drags Jaemin out of his bed and to the field where they talked before with Haechan. It seems like ages ago.

They don’t talk much. Jaemin mostly stares blankly into space while Jisung sits next to him, just as a pillar of support. Jaemin doesn’t cry.

Jisung takes Jaemin to a convenience store. Together, they order cups of noodles, then sit at a table in silence. When the food arrives, it takes a lot of effort for Jaemin to swallow it down. Everything still hurts.

When they finally leave the store, a familiar figure is walking down the street. Hands tucked into his pockets, eyes downcast, dressed in dark clothes, Jeno makes his way slowly to the two demons, seemingly not even registering their presence. As they pass, though, he looks up slightly, and he shares a look with Jaemin.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, too.

A moment of understanding passes between the two, and then Jeno turns away, ending the moment almost as soon as it began. With a sigh, Jaemin turns back to Jisung and together, the two of them melt into the shadows.

. . . . .

Love always finds its way back.

. . . . .

“Jaemin, Lucifer wants to see you,” Mark says.

“I don’t want to see him.” After the king of hell told him to stop wasting time with you and to get back to work, later flogging him for disregarding his orders, Jaemin hasn’t seen him since. And he likes it that way.

Mark shrugs in sympathy. “You can’t ignore him though.”

Jaemin smiles mirthlessly. “Bet.”

“No, I don’t bet,” Mark says firmly. “Now go.”

A heavy sigh leaves Jaemin’s lips, but he nods. “Fine.”

Jaemin’s will to continue weakens with every step he takes, but after what seems like an eternity, he finally ends up in front of the throne room. The flaming doors greet him as per usual, hissing and screaming with the pain of eternities of souls trapped in eternal punishment. Unfazed, he waits for the doors to open.

“Jaemin.” Lucifer’s voice booms as the demon kneels and bows his head.

“My lord.” Jaemin bites his lip.

“You may rise.” As Jaemin stands up, head still bowed, Lucifer continues. “We have a new member in our ranks. I would like you to train her and act as her mentor until she grasps things.”

With his head bowed, Jaemin can only see the new demon’s feet as she walks across the floor. He lifts his head, ready to greet her, then stumbles backwards in shock.

Jaemin barely remembers seeing you with your skin looking so healthy, with your eyes so bright, with your smile so wide and exhilarating and full of joy. But that’s how you look, standing mere inches in front of him.

He’s so shell-shocked that he barely remembers to bow to Lucifer. “I will teach her as best I can,” Jaemin says, voice trembling with overwhelming emotion. He looks into his king’s eyes of flaming pits and sees, amidst the flames, a touch of feeling.

Just as quickly as he saw it, it is gone, but Jaemin knows his eyes didn’t lie. He makes a last deep bow of gratitude, and then Lucifer waves you two out of the room. The second the doors slam shut, Jaemin’s arms are around you and yours are around him as you clutch each other for dear life. Little choked noises escape your throats and neither of you can string together a coherent sentence, but words are unneeded. Jaemin can only clutch you tighter and tighter, unable to believe that this is truly happening.

“How?” he finally manages, loosening his grip slightly so he can look into your eyes. They’re teary and a little red, but you look as beautiful as ever. “I… we only managed to escape from heaven after months of planning. How did you…?”

You wipe your eyes. “Jeno,” you say. “Jeno helped me.”

A whole rush of emotions hit Jaemin at once, as though someone’s just punched him in the stomach. Overwhelming surprise, wariness, and gratitude fill his throat and all he can come up with is a startled, choked noise. “Jeno?”

There’s a hint of sadness in your eyes as you nod. “Yes.”

Maybe Jeno didn’t do it for Jaemin. Maybe he did it just for you. That’s highly likely, and Jaemin almost believes it. But some tiny part of him wonders if maybe, just maybe, Jeno did it for him. At least partially.

He thinks that might be the case. It makes him smile, just a bit. 

As he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your lips with a raw fervor that almost lifts you up off your feet, he thanks his former best friend. He thanks the universe for aligning the two of you together. He thanks Lucifer for allowing you in, for allowing him to mentor you.

And he thanks his lucky stars that you could ever love a demon such as him.

[sleepy--cal]

hitched pt.1 | ashton

word count | 7.6k  →  fake dating, tinder, romcom au

synopsis | Ashton lies about having a plus-one for Michael’s wedding, sending his friends into an excited frenzy, and him? Scrambling to make those lies come true.

a/n | i’ve never written anything for the 5sos community before so here is my hello :3 Warning: excessive swearing bc the author has a potty mouth

★

When Ashton thought about it way back when, he really thought he’d be the first to settle down. To tie the knot. To get hitched.

But the first 5SOS wedding is coming up in August and it’s not his. It’s Michael’s - as in feet-on-the-table, milk-mustache-wearing, fortnite-until-dawn-playin’, doesn’t-wake-up-until-2pm, stray-cat-lookin’ ass Michael.

Luke has his plus-one. Sierra. Even Calum’s weekends have been spent chasing after this girl that Ashton has yet to be introduced to. Yet here he himself is at 2 months shy of 25 years of age, and he’s so fucking single he’s pretty sure he and Virgin Mary could be featured side-by-side on an expert level of a spot-the-difference game.

In fact, the last time a female even stepped foot into his mancave of an apartment was before he’d broken it off with his ex-girlfriend over a year ago. And when his ex had moved out, she’d brought all of her stuff with her and when Ashton says ‘all of her stuff’, he means all of her stuff. There’s no longer a toaster oven in his kitchen, only a microwave that he uses to heat up pizza pockets and poptarts. There are no bowls to eat from because he eats his food straight off his only pot like an 18th century caveman. There’s a lacy bra hanging off the doorknob to his bathroom but even that was a gag gift from Calum for Christmas two years ago. It’s fucking sad.

So Ashton doesn’t think it’s his fault, okay, when his phone pings and he comes face to face with the link to RSVP to Michael and Crystal’s destination wedding and the first question that comes up is “Do you have a plus one?”

Ashton scoffs.

He doesn’t know what it is - either the internalized compulsive need to one-up his friends or you know, casual demonic possession but he physically cannot control his goddamn thumb as he checkmarks the little “yes!” next to the question from hell. The panic doesn’t settle in for a little bit, even when he’s staring blankly at the ‘thank you for your response!’ message that pops up after he submits the form.

It’s only when he picks up the phone to an ecstatic Michael less than a full minute since he indicated he wanted steak instead of fish for the wedding dinner that he well and truly has his ‘oh shit’ moment.

And of course, when one person in the band knows something, everyone fucking knows. Which is how he finds himself stuck in a 4-way facetime call with every single 5SOS member and their dogs.

He can see all of Luke’s pores from how close his face is to the screen.

Everyone speaks all at once.

“Ash you’re what?!”

“Mate, why the hell didn’t you tell us?”

“I seriously had to find out from you RSVP-ing to my fucking wedding?!”

Ashton winces as he pulls his phone further from his face. “Guys it’s not that big of a deal.”

Michael scoffs at the same time Calum screams. “Not that big of a deal?! Dude!”

“What’s her name?” Luke demands like he’s asking for tonight’s weather forecast and not the name of Ashton’s fake fucking girlfriend.

“Chernobyl,” Ashton says. What the fuck.

“Chernobyl?” Luke repeats, his nose scrunching up in deep thought.

“Isn’t that the name of the nuclear power plant that-”

“It was a joke!” Ashton snaps, cutting Michael off. “I was kidding. It’s an inside joke between us.” He bullshits. “Um-”

“Aw, you two have inside jokes already!” Luke coos instead. Calum falls for it immediately, cooing alongside Luke and if Ashton’s ego wasn’t so big, he would’ve hung up the call already.

“So what is her name then?” Michael probes curiously. Ashton wants to kill Michael.

“Uh,” Ashton says intellectually. Favourite cartoon character. His grandmother’s name. The name of his childhood stuffie. The street he used to live on?? Ah, his neighbour’s cat! “April! I- yeah, it’s April.”

“Aww! Ashton!” Calum says dreamily like he’s Ashton’s mom finding out about his girlfriend and not his punk rock band member.

“She’s twenty-two,” Ashton’s fat mouth adds unnecessarily, because apparently, Ashton Fletcher Irwin is a closeted masochist and likes his grave deeper than most.

★

When management had approved of the band’s 6-month hiatus in preparation for Mikey’s wedding, Ashton never imagined he’d be spending it alone on his living room floor downloading Tinder.

But as he watches the progress bar slowly fill with green, it dawns on him that this is probably the worst decision he’s ever made in his entire life and that he should probably get psychologically evaluated for compulsive lying.

He isn’t even sure if Tinder is the right app for this, because he’s not looking for a hookup. He’s looking for a very specific 22-year old April who happens to live in Los Angeles, is open to sharing a fake inside joke with him about the tragic 1986 Chernobyl disaster, and won’t think he’s a serial killer when he asks on the first date if they want to accompany him on an 11-hour flight to Bora Bora as his plus one for his best friend’s destination wedding.

Ashton groans, falling backwards onto the carpeted floor. “Fuuuuuuck.”

The only thing that answers him is the mocking ping from his phone telling him the download is complete.

The carpet is rough under his cheek as he turns to grab at his phone, the ‘Let’s get started!’ page of the app staring innocently back at him.

It’s afternoons like these that makes Ashton wish he wasn’t such an insufferable idiot.

In no time at all, Ashton has his profile set up - his name (just Fletcher), age (24), and a couple of long-distance unrecognizable shots of himself because there’s no way in hell the tabloids are about to catch him on Tinder.

He spends the next 30 seconds swiping right furiously on every single girl that pops up because Michael’s wedding is in four months and the fitting for the groomsmen suits are tomorrow and he seriously has no time to be picky right now. He literally needs his 22-year old April yesterday.

He’s about to max out on his swiping limit for the day when a loud knock on his door startles him out of his thoughts. From his spot on the floor, he peers around the corner at the front door and when the lock doesn’t jiggle after another ten seconds, he groans and gets up to see which one of his not-bandmates have decided to show up unannounced.

When the door swings open, Lauren is staring at him from the other side with a giant luggage behind her and a raised eyebrow.

“Lauren!” He greets enthusiastically without missing a beat.

She rolls her eyes at him anyway and pushes her way past him and into the apartment. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“I did not. I even have a poptart in the microwave for you.” He insists as the front door swings shut with a bang.

Yeah... he should really get tested for compulsive lying.

“Here, let me grab that for you,” Ashton says, hauling the gigantic suitcase Lauren had brought with her, ignoring her sarcastic as you should! as he goes off to dump it somewhere in his room. While there, he shoves his dirty clothes underneath the bed and smooths out the bed sheets so Ashton can at least pretend that he’s somewhat gotten his act together since Lauren had last visited.

When he reemerges, Lauren is relaxing on the couch with a poptart in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Lauren!” He roars as he does a running dive over the back of the couch. Lauren shrieks as she drops the poptart and stumbles to the floor, carrying the weight of her brother on her back as she tries to keep the phone out of his reach. “What did I tell you about touching my things?!”

“I see Tinder, Ash!” She screams back, knocking the cushions off the couch as she shoves a sharp elbow into his cheek. “I have to tell mom!”

“Like hell you will!” He shouts as he makes a grab for the wrist holding his phone hostage. “Give me my phone back!”

“Screw off!”

“I made you a poptart!”

“So?!” Lauren retorts. “I-”

They both freeze at the sound of a loud ping. Ashton can only watch helplessly as Lauren’s eyes dart to the phone in her hands, her expression going from angry cat to sparkly eyed in two seconds flat. “You have a match!” She squeals.

“What?”

Ashton takes advantage of the distraction to snatch his phone back. Immediately, Lauren is peering over his shoulder as he swipes on the notification, watching as the words ‘It’s a Match!’ displays itself on the screen.

Underneath the words are two circular pictures - one is of the blurry ass photo of himself that he’d chosen and the other is a photo of a pretty brunette beaming shyly at the camera from behind a teacup.

‘You and Luna have liked each other!’ Tinder informs him.

Lauren shrieking into his ear is probably the single loudest thing he’s ever heard in his life, and as the drummer of a band, that’s saying something.

“She’s pretty!” Lauren squeals. Two seconds later, she mellows down as she clears her throat and punches him hard in the shoulder. “I guess you have pretty good taste. Proud of ya, Ash.” She grins.

Ashton doesn’t know how to tell her about his blind and desperate swiping spree that he went on seconds before she showed up at his doorstep, or about why he’s even on Tinder in the first place so he doesn’t and just lets CompulsiveLiar!Ashton strike again. “Thanks Laurie. Her bio’s what really got me.” He says.

He has no freaking idea what Luna’s bio says.

“Let me stalk!” Lauren exclaims and snatches his phone back before he can say anything and because Ashton can’t help but admit he’s a little curious too, the pair of them huddle on the couch together, looking at Ashton’s phone like it holds the answers to the future, which, for Ashton, it seriously might, just not in the way his sister might be thinking.

“Luna, twenty-two years old,” Lauren reads aloud. Ashton’s eyebrows shoot up at her perfect age. She scrolls further down. “Hey, she went to UCLA! I wonder if I’ve passed her on campus before.”

“Majored in developmental psychology,” Ashton reads next. “Holy shit.”

Lauren glances at him suspiciously. “I thought you’ve read all of this before.”

“I have!” Ashton says defensively. “I’m just doing a dramatic reading for your sake.”

“God, please don’t.”

They spend the next half hour combing through every bit of Luna’s bio, from the three photos she has of herself and one of her dalmatian to her biography that simply reads ‘wine and pizza and I’m all yours! Protip: +25 bonus points if you have a dog. +75 bonus points if I get to meet ‘em.’

“Borrow Luke’s dog! You have to!” Lauren begs.

“I can’t borrow Petunia!”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t! Luke might ask questions.”

Lauren squints at him. “Are you embarrassed that you’re pimping yourself out on Tinder?”

Ashton snorts and crosses his arms. “First of all, I’m not pimping myself out. Second of all, no.”

“Just tell him it’s for me then,” Lauren urges, nudging his shoulder. “Tell him I’m trying to impress my Tinder date with a cute puppy and that I’d feel safer going if Petunia was with me.”

Ashton thinks about it for a moment. Luke does have a soft spot for Lauren after all, considering the fact that Luke had always wanted a younger sibling but ended up being the baby himself in both his own family and the band, which, in Ashton’s opinion, fucking hilarious but Lauren did have a point. There’s no way Luke would say no to Lauren and her safety on a random ass Tinder date in the middle of downtown Los Angeles.

Plus, he really needs this whole Tinder shit to work out. For Mikey’s wedding. And if he gets +100 bonus points for showing off a dog that isn’t even his? Sign him the hell up.

“Okay, well, I can see your thinking face.” Lauren says nonchalantly. “So while you text Luke about Petunia, I did you the favour of sending your first message to Luna.”

Ashton chokes on his spit. “You what?!”

The sound that Lauren makes when Ashton throws himself on top of her to grab his phone back is inhuman. But the sound that Ashton makes when he sees the message is worse.

I’m told I remind people of a puppy. If you get to meet both me and my dog over pizza and wine, do I get double the bonus points? 🐶

★

His neighbour’s goddamn cat is staring at him when he wakes up to drink coffee on the balcony the next morning.

“April,” Ashton greets slowly as a warning. Previous first-hand experience has told him that the stupid orange cat did not give two shits about piping hot coffee and would lunge at him for the cup if Ashton so much as blows the steam in her general direction.

As a safety precaution, he moves a little farther away because he’s not sure if his sore neck can take a hit from the crazy cat if she lunges, especially since he was forced to fit his 6 foot long body on his two-seater couch last night, Lauren having taken over his bedroom for her beauty sleep as soon as it hit 10 o’clock.

That, and, uh, the fact that Luna had messaged him back less than five minutes after Lauren had ditched his ass in the living room and left him to his own devices. How was he supposed to continue a conversation he didn’t even start?

And seriously? If anyone in the band was the most puppy, it was Calum. What’s he supposed to do? Bring Calum too and get triple the bonus points?

Thankfully, Luna seemed to think Lauren’s bullshit was cute, replying with a “oh, definitely! 😂 guess I’ll have to double the amount of puppy treats on me”, teasingly followed a minute later by a “what breed of doggos will Oreo and I have the honour of meeting?”

And that was precisely what had kept Ashton up all night.

If you look at Ashton’s most recent search history, you’d find the following: Most popular breed of dog Most popular dog breed in Bora Bora Best looking dog breeds Most popular breed of dog for girls Golden retrievers German shepherds Golden retrievers vs German shepherds

Ashton sighs as he sips on his coffee. In the end, he’d narrowed himself down to either a golden retriever or a german shepherd, not because he thought he resembled either of those two breeds at all but more the fact that both seemed to be the most popular dogs with the ladies (in general, not in Bora Bora because that one yielded zero search results when he tried). But before he could decide which one, he’d finally passed out on the couch last night close to 4am in the morning.

A loud meow comes from his right.

“What?” Ashton asks grumpily as he looks over at April. She’s staring back at him with a stinky look on her face.

Then, he gets an idea.

“Hey April,” He calls out. “Meow once for golden retriever and twice for german shepherd.”

The bitch meows three times.

★

Lauren is laughing so hard, she has to bang her fist on the kitchen table multiple times to control herself. “Golden retriever german shepherd mix?!”

“Stop laughing!” Ashton hisses. “Eat your pancakes!”

“You mean the pancakes that I made?”

Ashton pauses. “Drink your coffee!”

Lauren’s still laughing. “I can’t believe you said a mix! Now she definitely knows you spent all night thinking about it.”

You left me out to die last night!” Ashton accuses, pointing a finger at her. “What was I supposed to do?”

“You replied this morning anyway! You could’ve waited for me to wake up.”

Ashton’s mouth opens and closes a couple times but nothing comes out. So he changes the subject because he’s mature like that. “I have to get ready for the fitting.”

Lauren snickers. “Sure.”

Calum and Luke swings his front door open right as Ashton emerges from his bedroom shamelessly in a 5sos tour hoodie and black jeans. They both give him a once-over, both looking confused.

“I thought we were going to get fitted for suits?” Luke says, eyebrows scrunched together. “Or is there a band gig tonight that I don’t know about?”

“A band gig,” Calum replies seriously. “At the wedding boutique. I thought you knew! If we perform for the boutique staff, Mikey gets a 30% discount.”

“Budgetsos,” Ashton butts in.

They finally notice Lauren when she snorts from the kitchen counter.

“Laurie!” Luke beams as the both of them go over to bear hug her and inspect what she’s eating. They don’t question why she’s eating pancakes out of a pot. Lauren offers some of her food and Calum takes it immediately, chomping over her fork for the bite. Luke takes her coffee instead.

“So you arrived here last night and you didn’t even ask us to come hang out? I thought we were friends,” Calum pouts, helping Lauren clean out her plate even though she didn’t ask. He looks like a puppy begging for scraps. “And I’m like 300% sure we make better company than Ash.”

“Hey!”

Before Ashton can say anything else, Lauren is looking over at him mischievously. “Sorry,” She snickers. “I couldn’t. Ashton and I were too busy last night setting up a daaaaaate for him.” She drags out.

Ashton chokes on his coffee. Holy fucking shit.

Luke turns to her immediately with a gleam in his eyes. “So you’ve met April?!”

“Yes!” Ashton interrupts loudly between coughs, voice raspy from the coffee in his goddamn airway. He ignores Lauren’s face that goes from evil to confused in two seconds flat. “Lauren’s met April! They both, uh, seriously love dogs and that’s all they could talk about I couldn’t get them to shut up, like at all.”

“No fucking way! Is she here?!” Calum asks, eyes wide and head whipping around in both directions so fast his curly hair looks like it’s taking flight. “Where?! Is she in your room? I want to meet her!” He asks, already sprinting into Ashton’s bedroom before he’s even finished his sentence.

“She’s not there!” Ashton hisses, running after him. “She left this morning! She had, like, you know... work! It’s a Tuesday.”

Calum visibly deflates and Ashton almost feels bad for a minute before he remembers that he can’t introduce Calum to anyone anyway, because he doesn’t actually have anyone.

Luke bounds over next, immediately taking notice of the odd state of his room - Lauren’s open suitcase at the foot of his bed, a fuzzy purple towel thrown over his bathroom door. Luke picks up a random bottle of face cream out of the many that are lying on his bed covers. “This looks like Lauren’s stuff. Didn’t your girl stay over last night?”

“Uh,” Ashton stutters, pulling an excuse out of his ass. “Yeah, they ended up having like… a girls night?”

Calum snickers. “So you got banished to the sofa?”

“Chicks before dicks!” Lauren shouts from somewhere in the kitchen.

Luke pats Ashton on the shoulder sympathetically but Ashton doesn’t feel any less shitty. There’s absolutely no way Lauren doesn’t know he’s lying now. He sighs. “Come on, guys, I have to change into better clothes. Can’t let you guys one-up me.”

“We’ll wait for you outside!” Luke waves as Calum shuts the bedroom door behind him.

When Ashton reemerges from his bedroom in a button-up and slacks this time, Luke and Calum are listening intently at whatever’s coming out of Lauren’s mouth. Ashton manages to catch the tail end of what she’s saying, something to do with hawaiian pizza and rosé wine.

“Yeah, they’re totally in love,” Lauren smiles. Luke’s smile is even wider than Lauren’s. Calum looks like he’s ready to take notes. “Kind of weird to watch my brother act all lovey-dovey in front of me, but I guess it’s kind of sweet. I can really tell she’s the one, you know?”

On their way out, Lauren pulls Ashton aside with a smile that’s way too wide and whispers, “You owe me an explanation when you get back and also your life.”

★

They make it to Rosie’s Bridal Boutique after 45 minutes stuck in traffic. It’s located in a cute little yellow brick building in the middle of the suburbs surrounded by more greenery than Ashton’s ever seen in his life. On the way there, he manages to evade Luke and Calum’s curiosity by blasting All Time Low at a ridiculous volume with the windows rolled down, letting the violent wind and the voice of Alex Gaskarth constantly try and outdo each other.

Unfortunately, Ashton knows he can’t evade shit for long as they pull up to the boutique and see Michael’s beaming face plastered to the window from the second story of the building.

“Mikey!” Calum greets as soon as the elevator door opens, bounding in like a puppy (Ashton will never stop saying that because it’s true goddammit) to drape himself all over the husband-to-be.

Michael’s already in a little bow tie and a black suit that’s getting wrinklier by the second, no thanks to Calum. He does a little wave despite the weight on his arm, “Hey guys!”

“Shut up,” Luke says as he pulls Michael in almost violently for a hug. “You’re gonna pull a ‘hey guys’ on us when we’re about to be your groomsmen?”

“Best man!” Calum shouts.

“Shut the fuck up,” Luke threatens again, voice muffled from where its pressed into Michael’s shoulder. “Get in here,” He complains to Ashton who willingly obliges and throws himself into the man pile.

The boutique staff giggle at them from where they’re standing around the room holding various pieces of Michael’s suit.

Ashton’s about to crack a joke about how Crystal’s going to be blown away by seeing Michael go from boxers filled with holes to a 4-piece suit when he swears his phone pings louder than the combined pings from the phones of Lauren and all her friends during a girls sleepover.

It’s suddenly awkward. For Ashton. Just Ashton.

Ashton knows it’s coming, but he still flinches when Michael asks, “Is that April?!”

“According to Lauren, they were being lovey-dovey last night,” Calum swoons teasingly.

“And she staaaaaayed the night,” Luke drags out.

Ashton wants to murder all of them.

Michael whistles. “You know it’s serious when the sister and the girlfriend meet.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Ashton complains. “We’re getting suits fitted for Michael’s wedding, guys. Be a little respectful.”

“Michael literally started this conversation,” Luke points out.

“Can I just try on my suit now please?” He says unnecessarily loudly.

Immediately, the boutique staff jump into action, pulling suits protected by plastic bags seemingly out of nowhere and ushering Ashton into an open changing room where a lady comes over with bright green measuring tape. The other boys grumble at the change in topic but oblige, spreading out and opening their arms to let the staff take their measurements.

“So I was thinking either a classic all-black colour scheme for the boys,” Michael says, tapping his chin. “Or a fancy navy blue instead. My handsome self in a full suit and you guys in suspenders. That would be hot. What do you guys think?”

“Did Crystal say anything about what she wanted?” Luke asks as he’s examining the suit they’d brought over to him.

“Nope,” Michael replies, pulling on his bowtie. “Said you guys were all mine.”

“Awww,” Calum says jokingly, grinning over the shoulder of the staff person attending to him. “That’s so sweet, Mikey. I love you too.”

Ashton snorts. “Don’t go cheating on your girl with Michael, you homewrecker.”

��Oh, yeah!” Calum exclaims, suddenly perking up. Ashton has a bad feeling in his stomach. “You haven’t met my girl yet, have you?”

“Uh, no,” Ashton replies, unsure. “Not yet.”

The smile that grows instantaneously on Calum’s face almost blinds him. “And I haven’t met April yet! So you, me, our girls! Double date, tomorrow night! You can’t say no Ash, I know you don’t have anything to do tomorrow and you’re the only one that hasn’t met her yet.”

Fuck. “Fuck!” Ashton says, laughing nervously. “I wish I could man, but I have to take care of Lauren.”

Michael snorts from where he’s lounging on the couch. “Lauren’s an adult now. Stop being overprotective. You’re probably smothering her with your axe body spray and protein shakes anyway. I bet she’s gonna go on a date herself as soon as you’re gone.”

“If you’re so worried, she can always come over and hang with me and Sierra,” Luke shrugs. “Sierra’s been talking non-stop about those sugar cookies Lauren gave us last time. And Petunia loves her, seriously.”

Ashton panics. “Well definitely not tomorrow!” Because who the fuck is he gonna show up with? Their PR manager? “Uh, what about like, next week? Or next next next next week?”

Calum ignores the second part of his sentence entirely. “Next week then!” He exclaims excitedly.

Fuck!

“I’m going to try this thing on,” Ashton says quickly, grabbing the suit closest to him before he’s all but throwing the curtain closed. As soon as he’s alone, he throws the suit aside and then can’t dig his phone out of his pocket fast enough. When he presses the home button, it shows he has one message from Tinder, from Luna. He opens it hastily.

So according to Google, you’re intelligent, athletic, playful, affectionate, and loyal? 🐶😂 Sounds almost too good to be true.

‘So let me prove it to you! May Petunia and I take you and Oreo out on a brunch date this weekend, my lady?’ He types back quickly, adding ‘my lady’ to hopefully charm the pants off her. He hopes it isn’t too soon for that. Petunia isn’t even his freaking dog.

He’s so busy chanting please say yes over and over again in his head while clutching onto his phone that it startles him when his phone pings loudly again.

Luke, Michael, and Calum start hollering from outside.

Sounds great! 😊 I’m free Saturday. Where to?

★

As soon as Luke drops him off back home, he runs up six flights of stairs back up to his apartment because if he has to wait more than ten seconds for the slow ass elevator, he’s going to lose his mind.

He scares Lauren off the couch when he barges through the front door screaming her name.

“I have a date on Saturday!” Ashton whispers through his heavy breathing, wide-eyed and sounding both smug and scared at the same time because fuck yeah, I scored this date myself but also fuck! I scored this date myself.

“What? With Luna?” Lauren asks, equally as wide-eyed from where she’d fallen to the floor. “How? You were only gone for like 3 hours!” Then her tone switches from surprised to demanding so fast, Ashton gets whiplash. “And who the heck is April?!”

Ashton straightens up immediately and clears his throat. “Yeah, so, uh, long story.”

“I’m on summer vacation right now. Cough it up.”

Ashton goes to the fridge instead where he pulls out a beer because there’s no way he’s about to tell Lauren what’s probably the most embarrassing story of his life while sober.

And then they sit on the couch like they had yesterday when he matched with Luna on Tinder except this time, Lauren’s face gets less and less impressed the more he talks.

“So what you’re telling me,” Lauren starts slowly. “Is that you’re standing in a grave that’s 10 feet deep right now because your pride and ego are bigger than your brain?”

Ashton winces. “Can’t you sugarcoat it a little bit?”

“No!” Lauren explodes, almost knocking the beer out of his hands. “Are you even interested in Luna? What if you guys go on your date on Saturday and she’s completely into you and you’re just using her so you can one-up your friends and feed your male ego?” Ashton opens his mouth to say something but Lauren doesn’t let him. “And also!” She snaps. “What if she recognizes you when she sees you? Your face isn’t exactly clear in your Tinder photos. Your face is going to be all over the news Sunday morning, I swear to God!”

“Hey, just because I’m famous doesn’t mean I can’t date.” Ashton defends.

“Yeah, but does she know? What if she doesn’t know who you are and you two get caught on your date and suddenly, her face is all over the internet too?”

Ashton winces. ”Okay, you’re right.” He pauses. “You’re also right about me leading her on.”

“Thank you,” Lauren says grumpily, crossing her arms.

“But I mean,” Ashton says in a small voice. “I’m also not opposed to finding someone new?”

Lauren sighs. “How about you and Luna go on that date on Saturday, and if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. You both wish each other well and both go on your merry ways.”

“...And if it does?”

“Then don’t get mad when I say I told you so!”

★

The days that lead up to Saturday are almost too slow.

On Wednesday, Luna had finally asked for Ashton’s number, texting him a cute puppy emoji to let him know the text was from her. On the same day, Luna had gone from calling him Fletcher to Fletch with no explanation, causing his heart rate to spike for a good twenty minutes before Lauren slapped him back to present-day reality.

On Wednesday afternoon, Ashton found himself frantically googling pet-friendly restaurants that served both pizza and alcohol. For bougie ass downtown Los Angeles, it was fucking difficult. But he’d managed to find one thirty minutes out of the city centre that had a nice outdoor patio and a menu for dogs. When he texted her the address, he got a ‘thank you for finding a place!’ back from Luna and it made his heart skip a goddamn beat because his ex had never thanked him for something like that.

On Thursday morning before the sun had even risen, Ashton had startled himself awake when he remembered he needed Petunia for Saturday. Squinting at his phone in the dark, he’d sent Luke a frantic text, reading: ‘Michael was fucking right Lauren’s going on a date on Saturday!!!!! Can you do me a huge favour and let her borrow Petunia for the day I don’t trust her SKETCHY ASS TINDER DATE’. And then Luke had texted him back not two minutes later, not even about Ashton texting him at ass o’clock, but about who Lauren was going on a date with, if Ashton knew him, why he was sketchy, and if he needed to kick anyone’s ass. He spent the next hour trying to convince Luke that they didn’t need to follow her on her date. In the end, it had turned into a she just needs Petunia goddammit Hemmings go back to bed.

By the time Saturday finally rolls around, Ashton is fucking winded.

Lauren’s still in bed (still in his bed, mind you), half asleep and bleary eyed and watching him dig around head first in the closet, mumbling to himself.

“Dude,” Lauren groans, breaking the silence for the first time since Ashton had barged in with no explanation. “This is too much action for eight in the morning,”

“Brunch is at ten and I still need to pick up Petunia!” He hisses, head popping out of a pile of clothing a moment later with two shirts in hand. “The black button-up or the blue polo?”

Lauren groans again. “What colour pants are you wearing?”

“Grey.”

“Black button-up.”

Ashton flings the blue polo back into the closet before Lauren can even finish her sentence, pulling his sleeping shirt off immediately afterwards.

“Ash, ew!” Lauren grumbles, flopping backwards onto the bed and throwing the covers over her head. Her head pops back out a moment later. “Just make sure to roll up the sleeves so you don’t look like you’re coming from a freaking business conference. And don’t button up all the way!”

“Got it!” He says hastily as he’s running out the door. “Thanks Laurie, love you, see you, bye!”

He’s already sweating by the time he gets into his car, the summer heat already at a sweltering 25 degrees celsius and rising despite it being so early in the morning. But even though it feels like Satan’s armpit, he pulls on a hoodie anyway because he’d rather die than have Luke see him dressed up in a button-up for supposedly no goddamn reason. It’s a little past 9am by the time he pulls into Luke’s driveway, Luke already standing there with an excited Petunia pulling on the leash.

He throws open the car door. “Petunia!” He greets, out of breath for no reason.

Petunia yips, panting happily and immediately trying to clamber all over Ashton’s lap as he bends down to pat at her head.

“I don’t know how useful Petunia’s going to be if Lauren’s date turns out to be a creep,” Luke says worriedly, still tugging on the leash to get Petunia to calm down. “Are you sure you don’t want us to follow her?”

“Mate, we’re both over six feet tall.” Ashton retorts. “If we follow her around, we’re both going to look creepier than her date.”

Luke squints. “How are you not worried?”

“I am!” Ashton insists. He’s lying out of his ass. “But Petunia’s a bulldog. No offense but her reputation is already scarier than any face we could ever pull.”

“Just make sure Lauren picks up the phone if you call!” Luke’s voice trails as Ashton opens the car’s passenger door and ushers Petunia inside. She settles nicely into the seat, looking up at Ashton with more love and adoration in her eyes than her owner ever did. “And take this bag!” He says, shoving a plastic bag that’s almost overflowing with the amount of shit that’s in it. “It’s Petunia’s food and toys. Tell Lauren to feed her and make sure she’s hydrated and-”

Ashton climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door on him.

“-And don’t forget to bring Petunia back by dinner! I swear to god, Irwin!” Luke screams through the glass. “Love you Petunia!”

The entire ride to the brunch place, Petunia just sticks her head out the window, tongue flying in the wind as she bops her head to the classical music Ashton had put on to calm himself the fuck down. The closer he gets to the restaurant, the more he feels himself getting a stomach ache. He doesn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this nervous for a date but if this doesn’t work out and he ends up going to Mikey’s wedding by himself, Calum might cry on his behalf and Luke might force him to be his and Sierra’s plus-two and as the oldest in the goddamn band, he’s not sure if he can handle that kind of humiliation.

But if this actually does work out with Luna, then he’ll just tell her the truth after Mikey’s wedding. That would be fine, right? Assuming nobody asks why the names Luna and April don’t match up.

Ashton groans. This is an entire goddamn mess.

The brunch place is packed by the time he pulls into a spot fifteen minutes before his reservation. There are dogs everywhere and Petunia’s so excited to see other beings of her kind that she’s resorted to pacing in circles impatiently in the passenger seat.

“Hold on Petunia,” Ashton groans, cutting the engine and throwing a hand over his eyes. “I’m nervous. Give me a minute.”

And because she’s the most perfect dog to ever exist (don’t tell Calum he said that), she stops pacing and starts licking gently at his hand. For once, Ashton doesn’t mind the slobber. He grins, looking down at her. “Okay, fine. Out we go then, baby.”

Before he slides out of the car, he pulls off his hoodie and puts on his sunglasses, thankfully fitting right in with all the other bougie people in their sundresses and designer purses who have time to wake up early on a Saturday for a brunch date with their dogs. He and Petunia bypass the ridiculous line, ignoring all the people who start cooing at Petunia. Thank fuck he’d made a reservation.

“Fletcher for two?” He says, trying to make his voice sound more like Fletcher Nobody Irwin and less like Ashton from 5SOS.

He tenses for a moment when the hostess pauses mid-greeting to eye him up and down. To throw her off, he gestures at Petunia who’s busy sniffing at a dandelion. “This is Monster Truck.” He introduces.

It’s then that the hostess looks at him again, decides that anybody who names their dog Monster Truck probably isn’t anybody famous and gestures behind her. “Follow me, sir. Your table is right by the water.”

Ashton lets out the breath he’d been holding when he and the hostess round the corner and he sees the only empty table on the patio, meaning Luna had yet to arrive. He picks the seat with his back facing the majority of the restaurant’s patrons. The hostess plucks the ‘reserved’ sign off the table, hands him the menu, wishes him a good time and then leaves him alone which Ashton is thankful for because he’d rather be left alone to have his panic attack by himself.

Petunia sits dutifully by his feet, drinking the water that the hostess had generously poured into a clear glass bowl for her.

Ashton is so busy trying to calm the hell down that he doesn’t notice the giant dalmatian sniffing at him from behind until its nose bumps right into where he’s most ticklish. He jumps at the same time a voice behind him squeaks, “Sorry!”

His heart has time to throw itself wildly against his chest bone exactly 1 time before he’s whipping around in his chair and coming face to face with stunning pale blue eyes. “Luna?” He breathes out, his eyes catching hers just as the words leave his mouth. Wow, okay. Jesus fuck, her Tinder photos had not done the colour of her eyes any justice.

Her unsure face transforms suddenly into a smile. “And you must be Fletcher?”

He almost does a double-take at the name before he remembers that oh yeah, he’s supposed to be Fletcher I-Eat-Brunch-With-Sunglasses-On Irwin and making a good impression right now because Mikey’s wedding. “Yeah, yes! That’s me.” His palms are sweaty and he can’t tell if it’s because they’re sitting on an outdoor patio is 30 degree weather or if it’s just his pretty date making him more nervous than his ex had ever made him.

It’s at this moment that Petunia (god bless her soul) decides to come lumbering over from her water bowl, her panting, drooly, smiling face looking up at Luna like she hung the stars (which, in Ashton’s opinion, is very fitting for her name).

“And this must be Petunia!” Luna exclaims, bending down to pat the bulldog’s head. Luna’s hand is so small it’s practically dwarfed by Petunia’s giant head. “It’s nice to meet you.” She says to Petunia and oh my god, Ashton could melt right then and there.

Instead, Oreo decides to try and sniff his crotch as Ashton tries to stand. He makes a strangled sound as Oreo’s nose digs into the front of his pants. “Holy crap,” He blurts, because he apparently has no brain-to-mouth filter. “Petunia has never reached that high before.”

“I am so sorry,” Luna squeaks again, blushing up to her ears. “Oreo, behave please! This is my first date with such a handsome guy,” She jokes shyly, pulling the dalmatian back by the leash.

It’s Ashton’s turn to turn bright fucking red. Holy shit. He feels like a 15-year old virgin all over again.

“He must smell the golden retriever german shepherd mix in me,” Ashton jokes back.

She pauses and then looks up at him for a moment before she bursts into laughter. “Oh, that’s right!” She says as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a cookie shaped like a bone. It’s wrapped in plastic and tied together with a pink ribbon. She holds it out to him shyly. “I did promise you a treat. I hope you like gingerbread?” Oh, wow.

“Is this for me or for Petunia?” He teases as he takes it, because he wants to see her blush again.

She giggles and Ashton feels like his heart might fall out of his chest. “For you.”

Ashton can feel the heat creeping up his neck. He stands again, without Oreo all up in his crotch this time, and for a second he has to pause because holy shit, Luna is tiny, the top of her head just reaching his shoulders. And then she looks up at him, smiling, which kicks him back into gear, stumbling around the table to pull her chair out of her.

“Thank you,” She mumbles, cheeks still red. Oreo follows her as she sits down, folding his legs underneath him right next to Petunia who he sniffs a couple times before turning to Petunia’s water bowl to stick his face into. Petunia doesn’t look like she minds.

“So,” Ashton starts as soon as he’s settled back down. It’s when he pulls up the menu to his face that he realizes he can’t see the tiny font through the dark tint of his sunglasses. Shit. “Uh.” Luna’s looking at him expectantly from over the top of her menu. “You studied psych in school?” He asks, diverting the conversation by pulling the topic straight out of his asshole.

She smiles so much that her eyes disappear into little moons. “You remember that from my bio?”

“That, and the dogs and the pizza and the wine,” He lists off, grinning on autopilot when she does and trying not to make it obvious he’s trying to find the right time to take off his sunglasses. What the hell kind of expensive ass sunglasses are these anyway? “Psych’s very cool.”

Oreo yips.

“Yeah, Oreo’s pretty cool with me studying psych too,” Luna jokes, reaching down to rub at Oreo’s head. “What about you? What do you do?”

Ashton freezes. Lauren’s words from yesterday start ringing in his head. It’s now or never. Now or never.

His heart is hammering in his chest as he slowly, inconspicuously slides the sunglasses off his face, getting ready to launch himself over the table and towards the car park if she starts screaming.

When nothing happens, he looks back up at her. She’s still staring politely at him even though his sunglasses are completely off now and his bare face is exposed for the world to see and lit up from the glaring sun. Those pale blue eyes blink back at him.

Nothing. Ashton inhales sharply. She… doesn’t recognize him?

“I’m a drum teacher,” Ashton blurts, the words flying out of his mouth before his brain even knows what he’s saying. Okay, too close! Too close to real life, Jesus Christ. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to make any connections.

“No way! Drums?” She says, looking surprised. Her expression melts into a wide smile. “That’s really cool! I don’t think I’ve ever gotten my hands on a drum kit before. Maybe you could teach me sometime.” She compliments genuinely, looking at him shyly. She reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear and for moment, Ashton’s fucking smitten. He forgets all about the fact that he’s the drummer of the band that released Youngblood, multi-platinum certified and #1 on the Billboard Top 200. For today, he’s just a regular fucking guy out for brunch and Luna’s attention is all on him. He feels like a sponge, trying to absorb as much of it as he can.

Thankfully, the waiter that’s serving them chooses that moment to swing by and introduce himself with too much enthusiasm for this early in the morning, looking like serving brunch to people with too much money is his life calling.

“And what would this lovely couple like to order today?” The waiter sings eagerly.

Luna stutters. “O-Oh, we’re not...”

Ashton doesn’t even bother denying the waiter. “The blueberry pupcakes for Petunia and just the steak and eggs for me, please,” He says, smiling before glancing up at his date. The waiter pretends to swoon at his charm. “And for you, my lady?”

Luna laughs at the subtle reference to their tinder conversation, a rosy blush decorating her cheeks. “The Poochini for Oreo, please, and I’ll take the prosciutto flatbread. Thank you.”

The waiter leaves with promises of their food soon.

“So, the prosciutto flatbread?” Ashton jokes. The look on her face says she already knows where this is going.

“It’s the closest thing I can get to pizza here,” She says with a serious face before she bursts into giggles not two seconds later.

Fuck, Ashton’s in love.

★   

| TBC |

[triviaggukcore]

her blooming flower | one

prologue / one / two

→summary: you’ve known him since you were just a young girl during his trainee days. He watched you grow into a woman, but he’s always hated you from day one for whatever reason it may be. To you, he thought of you as a nobody. But what you weren’t aware of was a secret that he never wanted you to know.

→pairing: enemy!jungkook x dancer!reader

→word count: 7.6k

→genre: angst, fluff, maybe smut??, some humor

→warning: implied smut

→a/n: hi guys, it’s finally here! I’m so sorry it’s been almost two months! It’s been super hectic from having family over the break and having no time to write. And it became even more hectic as my schedule became packed when coming back to second semester of school. I had theatre rehearsals every day after school until 6pm to prepare for our musical back in January with so much homework and chores to do, and then I was gone with my dance team at Disney World for 4 days which also didn’t give me any time to write, and missing three school days. I had to make up a bunch of work to bring up failing grades which had me super stressed out. Now that it’s February, it’s competition season and this past Saturday was the second contest. I’ve just been constantly tired physically, mentally, and emotionally where I just lost so much motivation to write. But I definitely took time in between my spare time to try the best I could. So thankfully, it is now here and the good news, I have a two week break before last contest. I will say this series will have a bit of slow updates. It just all depends on how packed my schedule is. But most of all, I would like to thank you all for being super patient with me, I really appreciate it sweeties! I would also like to thank @9uk and @stxrrysuga for being wonderful helpers into keeping me motivated and writing just a few small details that’ll help me get going.

Another side note, I’d like to credit and thank  @dearmyjimin for granting me permission to use a concept she made on her blog which I was desperate and in such need for this series since I felt like it could absolutely be perfect for the storyline. Once again thank you!! The concept is based on 3J! That is all I have to say as you all should read and find out what it is.

So here it is finally! Chapter one! Enjoy!

It was dawn when you had woken up, your eyes drowsy from the lack of sleep you had been getting the last few days. The constant late nights because of work had kept you up at ungodly hours of the night. You tried to get fewer hours but you knew you needed the money so you stuck with the long hours and your days dragged on, each one seemed longer than the next. You sat up and sighed softly as you climbed out of bed while grabbing your glasses and putting them on. Your mind clouded with thoughts of what was going to take place later today, so you walked over to your desk and took a glimpse of your planner that you created almost a year ago.

Today, at 8am, you have breakfast with your best friend Jess, a contemporary lesson at noon, then lunch at 1pm, and then game night at Taehyung’s, including a no work shift today.

Okay, not so much to do today. Thank God. You grabbed your phone and put some music on shuffle with your mini speaker, then made your way over to the bathroom. You did your daytime skincare routine after doing your business on the toilet. While washing your face, you wondered how could you get this far in life. No, you’re not famous. You thought it would be kind of a scary career. But you still wanted to dance and create amazing pieces for artists for the wish of sharing your work to the world. Plus, you have choreographed for some artists before.

You’re not always booked for appointments with idols, but your schedule does get tight due to the fact that you work. You basically have a job at this cafe in Seoul, and you’re still working at your mom’s studio, hosting classes every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday night. You usually teach contemporary and ballet but you have taught some hip hop classes too, due to the fact that you’ve choreographed for some idols as an example. It’s been requested by many residents who take your classes for you to teach more hip hop. And you might as well take that chance to balance all the styles out.

Looking at your face in the mirror after washing your face, you also thought about how life was for you when you moved to Korea. You missed your friends from back home, but you also love it here too. And you made some decent close friends here too, especially Jess being the closest friend you see literally every day. And of course, you can’t forget the Bangtan boys. You grew close with the boys over the years, they basically became your family. You always had fun with them, whether it was game nights or through video chat. And you have a very special bond with each of the boys, nothing was ever different from how you all acted with each other.

They adore you a lot, and you were like their very own little sister that they look out for. They all found you sweet and sincere, prestigious, intelligent, and super adorable. Well, except Jungkook. He, being the only one who disagrees, finds you as the exact opposite. He’s got one hell of a grudge against you. All because of a damn smoothie you accidentally spilled on him a couple years ago. You find it super confusing and a little dumb that he treats you like shit over that incident. Although, it saddens you too as you took the blame upon yourself, coming up with the many excuses in your head. Maybe he was having a really bad day and you just so happened to ruin it even more. If you were paying a little more attention, you would have caught yourself and not spilled your smoothie on him. Then maybe, just maybe, you could have had a better introduction with each other and become friends.

Jungkook loves to criticize and pick on you. Everyday. That’s no surprise to you. But you don’t usually conduct to anything he does to you, and it made him full of annoyance from how you wouldn’t try defending yourself (more so, argue). But there’s a reason why you don’t. If you ever stood up against Jungkook, you’re sure that he will probably laugh his ass off at your pathetic self. You don’t think you could ever try to face him with defense. It doesn’t work that way for you. Sure, it hurts you. But you find it useless to do so. And being the sweet person you are, you’re not gonna want to come out as some bitch.

No matter how much you respect him and treat him nicely, your presence is what makes him irritated. The man has got a grudge against you.

Sliding out of your pajamas, you threw on a random outfit and then you sat down at your vanity set and decided how you were going to look upon your face and hair. After 30 minutes, you were already putting on a pair of shoes at your front door. You grabbed your bag and car keys, and you were out the door of your apartment. Shortly then, you were on the road.

“Okay, so here are all my ideas for the boys’ next comeback. I’ve been working on this for a couple of days now and I thought I’d share them with you!” Your friend Jess said, dropping a plain journal in front of you next to your plate full of breakfast. You picked up the journal once you set your vanilla latte down and opened the journal, flipping through the ridiculous full pages of notes and ideas followed up for BTS’ comeback.

You gave her a glance, “You are crazy. Are you seriously helping them find new concept ideas? I thought they already figured that out.”

She shrugged, “Not exactly. Besides, they asked for my help so I could have better ideas on what music to produce with Yoongi and Namjoon.”

“A sexy comeback darker than the Love Yourself: Tear and Wings era?” You read aloud, “Sounds kinda…”

“Kinda good right? I think it’s time they now get into that, and besides, they’re all adults now that Jungkook became one.” She mentioned.

“You do know he’s been an adult for a few years now.”

Jess glared at you, “And him being an expert shirt lifter was only the beginning of his little bad boy era.”

The thought of Jungkook and his image only made you feel weird. He grew up drastically and puberty hit him harder than a truck. Instead, it was more like god and the devil worked together to mix cute and hot in their mixing bowl but decided to go with he’s gonna make every person gush in adoration and suddenly they get down on their knees and are thirsty hoes. But, there’s no denying that he really had you gawking at him. After all, you do like the man.

You nodded, “Wow, how logical.” Your sarcasm erupted as you took a sip of your latte. She hummed, “You know it’s true. Anyways, what’s going on for you today? Are you coming to game night?”

“Yeah, I am. I have a contemporary class to teach at noon, then lunch, and then I have a whole day to myself until game night. I think I might do some shopping, maybe go to the book store and read a few novels since my package arrived there. If I have time, I might just work on my poetries.” Yes, you write since you found your love for novels. Thanks to your dad’s career. He’s the best selling author in the country and back in yours.

“Speaking of dance,” Jess started, “Did you hear about 3J Studio?’

Yes, 3J as in J-Hope, Jimin, and Jungkook, the BTS dance line. They built a dance studio for those who want to have exclusive dance lessons with the boys. Millions of people have signed up for classes just so they can stand a chance to be coached by the boys. You were yet excited and definitely going to their first class on Saturday.

You nodded, “I did. Jimin and Hoseok told me about it. I’m really excited about this Saturday.” You smiled. “Me too!” Jess gushed, “Are you planning on attending?” She asked. “Of course! For sure I’m taking Jimin and Hoseok’s class.”

“Oh, but not Jungkook’s?” She raised an eyebrow. You sighed, “I mean, I’m not sure if I want to. I know he’s a great dancer and I’m certain he’s going to be an amazing coach but do you really think I want to feel the awkward tension where his blood literally boils around me? I’m not sure if I even want people to be speculating his hate for me. That’ll just put him at risk.” You fiddled with the thin straw in your latte, stirring it.

“But it’s not like he would ever talk to you in front of his students, would he? He’s an asshole, don’t get me wrong. Yet, I’m pretty sure he’s not an ass to treat you like crap.” Jess stated, “There’s no way he would do that to you in front of many people.”

“I guess you’re right.” You shrugged. The guy always puts you down and even humiliates you, he probably wouldn’t do that in public otherwise it would defame his image. The people wouldn’t even know who you are anyways. You’re only specified as, BTS’ friend, BTS’ music producer, Jess’ friend, Min Yoongi’s wife’s friend. It’s pretty much anything with you labeled as a friend of the band.

“He’s such a dumbass.” Jess shook her head. You looked up at her, “Hey, don’t say that about him. You know that’s not nice.”

She rolled her eyes and glared at you, “Really? Y/N, You’re defending him when all he ever does is bitch at you? He’s one hell of a brat who’s still stuck up on that smoothie mess! He makes me want to shove my foot in his face.”

“But you know he doesn’t have to like me right? Come on, Jess. Besides, the accident was my fault anyway.” You said softly as your eyes wandered somewhere else. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Your head snapped back at her, “Just because I like him doesn’t mean that has to do with what happened in the past.”

“Oh, so defending him and constantly worrying about his health along with your care and support in every accomplishment he achieves doesn’t mean anything to the way you feel about him?” Jess caught you there. “It’s not that I… I don’t know, Jessica.” You sighed, holding your cup firmly with both hands, “I respect him whether he doesn’t like me or not. My feelings don’t matter. He would never feel anything romantic for me. Besides, he has a girlfriend who’s definitely prettier and has a more slammin’ body than me.” You awkwardly locked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“And this is where I call you stupid.” Jess looked at you, “That girl could never compare. She’s only got a pretty face but not a nice personality. Plus, you’re freaking gorgeous. More than she is. I don’t think you have any idea on that she’s only dating Jungkook for the attention and the fame.” She ate a bite of her egg sandwich, speaking in a mouthful, “The girl is a hooker but Jungkook being his gullible dumbass self believes she loves him for him.

You sighed, “Of course.” He loves her.

“And 5, 6, 7,  TILT. Excellent!” You complimented, watching through the mirror as everyone in the studio did a tilt from the floor and rolled into fetus position. “So that whole 8-piece, just remember that it’s very very subtle, not too much energy until after the tilt, which you want to push your legs up and extend them like a whip but as light as a feather. Have grace with the tilt. 5, 6, 7, UP!” You demonstrated by being an example and showing your students the technique.

“She’s good isn’t she?” Jimin said with his arms crossed as he observed your teaching skills and your charismatic moves. “I’m really surprised she declined the trainee offers from the entertainment industries.” Hoseok nodded in agreement. A chuckled then came along, “I’m not.” Jungkook smirked.

“Dude, you’ve been going against every word we say about her.” Hoseok crossed his arms to face Jungkook. “Since day one.” He specifically added. Jungkook narrows his eyes as if he couldn’t comprehend what Hoseok was trying to get at.

But only the blind wouldn’t be able to tell that Jungkook bears a deep, stubborn grudge on you. And his attitude towards you contrasted too much from his members for them to not notice his behavior. It was an issue constantly swept under the carpet to not escalate things given Jungkook’s temper, but the matter has finally rose from dust. “Yeah that’s right, did she do something to offend you or something?” Jimin looks at Jungkook worriedly. The both of them kept going on about the issue of you, pressing Jungkook to the end of wits.

“Yo, if you have seen...another side of her she’s not showing to us,” The three of them slowly spin to watch you conduct the dance class. The smile on your face when you teach, and the way you go about asking every student about their struggles and issues—make Hoseok doubted the words that came out of his mouth. You looked genuinely passionate in this company, and it couldn’t be that you put up an act in front of evil intentions for so long. As long as however many years. Jungkook remains his gaze on you for a while, before his hands are coming up to rip off his hair from his scalp in frustration as he groans. “I-It’s not like that..! It’s just.. just the sight of her irks me!” He knew he sounded like a brat hating on someone as innocent as you for no reason at all. But before he could save himself from further embarrassment, you are strolling towards his triangle of friends with an anticipated look cast on your features.

“What are you guys talking about?” Your voice interrupts his rant. The three men stare at you in expressions you can’t make out—you couldn’t tell what they were thinking. Then the both Hoseok and Jimin shot Jungkook looks.

“Uh…” Jimin darts his gaze back and forth his two friends, before pulling you by the arm away from them. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

And with that, you and Jimin walked out into the hallway to the studio kitchen where there were a few staff eating lunch. “So are you going to join us this Saturday at our studio?” You took out a bottle full of cold water from the refrigerator when you opened as Jimin leaned on the wall next to him. “Definitely. I’m excited what you guys have in store for your lessons and I’ll be taking them all too.” You took a couple sips from the water. Jimin looked at you with a raised eyebrow, recalling that you are taking ALL the lessons, “And by all, you mean you’re going to participate in Jungkook’s class too?”

You clenched your lips together in awkwardness, “It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t take his but yours and Hoseok’s would it?” You sighed, “And besides, even if he cared, he’ll forget I’m even there. He’s going to have a class filled with people, and his main focus is his students.” Leaning against the counter backward, you always felt awkward talking about him with his members, and it wasn’t because you didn’t want to say the wrong thing at all. His hyungs were always lecturing him about you and never accepted the behavior he acted upon you. They didn’t know what really happened the day of the stupid incident because he never liked to talk about it or else he would have been made fun of or worse. They don’t even know why he’s held a grudge against you for so long. So what is the problem? When will he man up and get over it?

Jimin sighed, “At least you’re not an asshole like him.”

“Truth or dare?” Taehyung looked over at Jess as he popped the question.

“Dare.” She smirked.

After playing Jenga, Uno, checkers, and a whole bunch of other games in Taehyung’s house, everyone, including some of the boys’ girlfriends, are sitting in a circle on the floor with beers and snacks playing truth or dare. And unfortunately, Jungkook’s girl, Yuna couldn’t be there. But you felt relieved and happy about it. She’s just as worse as Jungkook. Pretty yet mean and nasty to you.

“Funny you guys are bickering but since you all ate my jjigae, I haven’t gotten a single bowl of it you hungry ass pigs!” Jin exclaimed just when Taehyung and Jess bickered over who has the best shoes.

“It was some good shit though.” Taehyung’s mouth waters, “I wish I could have more.”

Jin mumbles something under his breath and takes one huge gulp of his beer.

“Okay moving on. Truth or dare, Y/N?” Jimin turns to you. You kept your knees close to your chest, looking down as you weren’t prepared for your answer. You were always unsure and nervous about whatever choice you choose. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, especially Jungkook with his little smirk.

“Ummm… truth?” You weren’t sure but went with it anyway. “Who was your first kiss?”

And that question almost made you shit yourself, “W-What?” You could feel your eyes widened.

How the hell were you going to tell that you’ve never kissed anyone before without feeling embarrassed?

“I’m sure she doesn’t want to reveal her privacy.” Namjoon noticed the nerves just by the position you were in. You were hugging your knees which were up to your chest. Jess even looked over at you in such worry since she’s the only one who knows you haven’t had the experience.

You gulped and stuttered, pushing up your glasses, “I uh… I actually never kissed anyone before.” You said softly as you looked down.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in surprise, “What? No way. Seriously?” You looked up at Taehyung and looked at all the other reactions. They seemed just as surprised as him.

“That’s surprising.” Yoongi nodded in agreement. Jungkook rolled his eyes in annoyance, “Not a surprise to me, I mean look at her.” He looked over at you in disgust and you only looked down in shame. You felt so embarrassed and disgusted with your own self with not having any experience with a guy at all.

Jess glared over at him just as her blood was boiling, she could beat his ass at any second now, “Shut the fuck up, you ass. She doesn’t need your nasty opinions.”

Jungkook shrugged, “Like I care.”

“I think it’s great that she’s never kissed anyone, Jungkook.” Nari, Taehyung’s girlfriend, spoke in regards to defending you. Nari is sweet and soft, and even a creative person. She’s a cosmetologist in makeup and is definitely talented in making so many makeup combinations. She’s short and a few years older, around the same age as Taehyung. She has gorgeous glowing honey skin with long black colored curly hair, and lovely blue eyes. She’s just as beautiful as Taehyung and to you, they’re considered the most beautiful couple ever.

“It’s a good thing, stop being an ass Jungkook,” Jimin glared at him. You sat there awkwardly but you gave a little smile at Nari for giving her defense.

“Don’t mind him, Y/N. It’s good that you haven’t had your first kiss. You don’t need one, not even a guy. You’re a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a man.” Hoseok, who was sitting beside you, smiled at you with a good rub on your shoulder, “And you are also a beautiful woman.” He added, being sweet and full of sunshine as always. You could feel yourself blush and get shy at his compliment, “Thank you.” You nodded.

Of course, Jungkook shook his head unsatisfied. He knew that you never had a boyfriend. Everyone knew. And he was sure that you weren’t ever going to get one. But what he didn’t know was that you were definitely talking to someone as opposed to be dating soon.

“What do you mean she’s talking to Jonghoon?” He asked Taehyung as he looked at him in disbelief. It was the next morning and the two boys were in the kitchen making themselves some breakfast.

Taehyung glanced over at Jungkook from where he was cutting tofu, “What do you think I mean?”

While sighing, Jungkook bit his lip in question while he shook his head, “You’re kidding me right? He’s a frat! Does she not know that?” Was he actually for real? There’s no way you could be talking to some player. Jonghoon is a friend of Taehyung’s who used to be a trainee at BigHit. He’s damn beautiful and looks like he could be related to Taehyung. Tall, caramel skin, built, an unreal God like face, yet he’s definitely one hell of a man who only hooks up and has one night stands, leaving girls the very next day. Jungkook wasn’t very fond of him because he knows he isn’t the type of guy himself to play around with women.

“Apparently not.” Taehyung shrugged, “I tried telling her that he’s not what she thinks he is, but she didn’t listen.”

“She’s stupid! You could have told Jonghoon to back off! He can’t talk to her! She’s not realizing that fucker could slip his hand in her panties and fuck her! She’s not into those things! She’s not ready and she shouldn’t be anywhere near him” He exclaimed in anger.

“And why all of a sudden are you sounding like you care about Y/N?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him, he could sense the protection Jungkook had for you.

“You’re fucking crazy. I don’t give a crap about her. I’m just saying that she shouldn’t be talking to him because he’s not good for her at all.”

Taehyung hummed, but he wasn’t convinced, “Okay, whatever you say. But I can’t forget to add that she’s going on a date with him later this afternoon.” He smirked.

“WHAT?!” Jungkook looked at Taehyung as if his eyes could pop out of his sockets.

“Yeah, you heard me. A date. Where two people who are attracted to each other go and hang out to be romantic and shit like that.” Taehyung kept his little smile, waiting for Jungkook’s major defense mode.

“It’s definitely not an attraction or going to be romantic when really he’s gonna take her home and get in her pants.” He growled and his tongue poked out of his cheek, “She’s not going on that date. I have to go tell her this after I eat breakfast.”

It was around two o’clock in the afternoon and Jungkook took forever to find out where you were going on your date with Jonghoon. Jess could not answer his calls from her being occupied in the studio with Yoongi, Jonghoon wouldn’t tell Taehyung exactly where he was meeting with you, Jimin, Jin, and Namjoon had no idea of you going on a date. That was left with Hoseok who had been stuck in the 3J studio finishing his choreography for his first class tomorrow, had known exactly where you were going to meet Jonghoon. The Lounge Cafe.

It was a twenty minute drive but he didn’t care. He needed to find you and prevent you from hanging out with Jonghoon. When he arrived, the cafe was definitely modernized although that wasn’t the point. His eyes roamed the cafe from sitting in his parked car and that’s where they landed on a familiar girl wearing a cream floral dress, sitting alone outside at a table while reading a book. It was you.

With honesty, Jungkook thought you looked stunning. Maybe because he’s never seen you all dressed up. But your presence somewhat attracted him. His eyes read your look. The way your hair flowed from the light breeze, your adorable wide eyes blinking as you flipped a page, the way your posture is. Undoubtedly yet not realization, Jungkook always had thought you were beautiful without even saying you are. You are just naturally attractive. He wondered what life would have been if you weren’t so irking… or if maybe just things went the right way between you two. Would you two have become friends? Would there have been any feelings of? Well, that’s not that he would know of.

Before his thoughts could go any further to drive him away distractedly, he snapped out of them since he was here for a reason. Jungkook got out of his car, taking his keys, phone, and wallet and slipping them into his sweatpants as his made his way over to you, knowing of the arrangement with Jonghoon. When he reached you, he was already infuriated just as he took a seat in front of you, “Why are you wasting your time?”

You looked up from the page you were reading of your book to find Jungkook sitting right there with an incensed expression on his face. What the hell was he talking about? “Excuse me?” You questioned.

He let out a hollow laugh, “The guy isn’t worth the time, Y/N. Are you blind?” Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “You mean Jonghoon? How do you even know him?” Most of all, how did he know about this? Jungkook shook his head, “He is a friend of a friend I have. And he has a reputation Y/N. He doesn’t take too fondly to girls… that aren’t experienced.” His thumbs circled around each other as his fingers were interlocked.

You sighed, “And why do you care? You don’t know if he’s really like that, Jungkook.”

His eyes rolled in exasperation and looked at you, “Look Y/N, I know what I’m saying. I know that douche too well and you are just walking into one of his traps.” He nodded in assurance. “How did you even know about this?” You asked, “First of all, this is my business that you’re barging into. I don’t think he’ll even do such thing to hurt me.”

Jungkook leaned towards you, “He will use you for a bad purpose and break your heart, Y/N.” His voice deepened, “So don’t cry when he leaves you stranded and broken.”

You giggled, not believing him, “Please, he won’t.” You crossed your arms while leaning back on the chair, “And if that doesn’t work out and I end up wrong, then lesson learned. I like him.” You shrugged in yet confidence. Jungkook studied you in distaste with a hum, “You are so blind huh? Not just in sight but in judgment.”

That’s when you just had enough. What rights does he have to be telling you this? You were done kissing his ass, “Judgement? Who are you to tell me this? Why can’t I just like anyone for crying out loud? Are you that surprised at the fact I’m probably going to start dating?” You asked.

Jungkook nodded with no expression, “Obviously yes, as no guy would ever be interested in you anyways.” He shrugged as he sat back. You looked down in distress. It was true, but yet you just had a strong feeling that Jonghoon was actually interested in you, “At least it feels nice when someone is interested in me...” You said quietly.

“As if any guy would.” He said expressionlessly. You have yet nothing to say and he got the message that you were done listening. He got up from his seat as he looked at you with no sympathy, “Don’t blame me if he tears you apart.” And with that, he walked off. You sat there, not knowing what to think. You didn’t want to believe him because you were already over with him being an ass. He couldn’t be telling the truth… right?

The clear skies with shining sun soon faded when dark and grey clouds have flown into them. It would have been much better as a delight to maybe brighten up the day a little and not ruin it for you after what just clearly happened.

Jungkook on the other hand just did not care about what was going on with you and Jonghoon. Or does he because of the guy’s reputation with girls? No, that didn’t matter to him. If Jonghoon did anything to mess with you, then it was your fault for not listening to Jungkook. And he basically told you so. No fucks were given in the end.

At the end of practice at BigHit’s dance studio, Jungkook sat down on the floor with his back against the wall and grabbed his phone. Seeing an odd countless amount of messages from Jess, he was confused. She seemed worried and angry, but why was she?

Jess (4:33pm): Jungkook, idk where you are right now and honestly i don’t care but y/n hasn’t come home and i’m fucking worried.. Like seriously.

Jess(4:33pm): Can you look around and see if you can find her?

Jess(4:36pm): If you don’t, just know your hair won’t make it to the morning :)

Jungkook groaned in annoyance and responded.

Jungkook(5:02pm): Are you serious?? Do I really have to do this? Why can’t you just ask any of the other guys?

Jess(5:07pm): For one, Yoongi is at the studio but he is working on your comeback so he is out of the question. Hoseok is with Family at the moment, Jin is probably asleep, Jimin is out with Taehyung somewhere and Namjoon… I’m not sure where he is but you’re in her area and I need someone asap as my car is out of gas unless I’d be doing this shit my fucking self.

Jungkook(5:08pm) I could just give you money or bring gas to you. I literally have no idea where she is and I am nowhere in any mood to even find her.

Jess(5:12pm): See you’re the last fucking person I want to ask anyway but I need you to do this cause I’m working on something for Mr. Bang and if it’s not finished I am screwed. So just text Namjoon as he was the last one to talk to her after you decided to be an ass before her fucking date. Which I'm tempted to smack you for doing but you’re right about this guy which is why I'm extra worried… so just for my fucking sanity please jungkook. I’ll pay you back in whatever the fuck you ask for, games etc. just do it.

Jungkook(5:14pm): fine, but let this be the last fucking time you ask me to do something with y/n involved. I give no fucks about her or whatever she does with that douche just an FYI.

Jess(5:15pm): you can say that all you want but I know you Jungkook. Just find her, and if that fucker has hurt her tell me so I can plan his fucking funeral.

Jungkook(5:17pm): What is this, you’re not believing me now? In what aspect do you mean by knowing me? As if. But whatever, you can do whatever you want. If she ends up hurt, I’ll tell you. But it’s her fault and I don’t care anyway. She’s a stubborn pain in the ass and is the last person I ever want to put in my car no offense.

Jess(5:18pm): Whatever Jungkook, you act like a douche on purpose but I won’t argue with you as you’re just as hardhead as yoongi. So just find her, I have shit too before Mr. Bang has my head on a pike.

Jungkook(5:19pm): alright fine. I’ll keep you updated if I find her or not.

Jess(5:21pm): Thank you... You really don’t understand how much I am thankful that you are doing this. She is like a daughter to me. So yeah I gtg Mr. Bang is yelling at me now lmao

Jungkook(5:22pm): I mean I guess lol… I’m only doing this for you.

Jess(5:23pm): it won’t only be me in the end, but thanks.

Jungkook(5:23pm): no problem

Jungkook sighed in annoyance and hung up slipped his phone in his pocket. Do I really have to do this? Yes, of course, he does. He’s not that much of an ass to reject doing a favor for someone who needs it. And if Jess is that damn worried about you, then he may as well go out and find you. Jungkook grabbed his backpack and carries it on his back after putting his sweaty towel in and zipping it up. Walking out to his car, he thought to himself, what happens if he doesn’t find you at all?

During the car ride, he went to various places that he could in order to find you. Locations that may seem where you might be based on where you probably like to go. And he even went to the most random places too. He’s driven around everywhere in Seoul basically trying to find just you.

An hour passed and you were not found. Jungkook was in utter anger and stress that he’s wasted on time looking for you. He just wanted to go home badly to rest, and at that point for finding you everywhere, he’s given up. He shook his head and turned his car around to his way home. How was he going to tell Jess that he didn’t find you?

Although it was one question that he was focused on, there was another one that he just couldn’t help but keep thinking about the most. Is she okay?

The thought if it makes him worry a little. And it was odd. Where could you possibly be that you suddenly disappeared all day? Then suddenly while driving down a road, he found someone familiar walking on the sidewalk with their head down. Their outfit just seemed to look too much like what you were wearing earlier. Your figure and the way you walk even caught him off guard. With curiosity and hope, Jungkook slowly drove up close to get a better look of you, and as soon as he was just there, it was suddenly and thankfully you, walking with your head down.

To be sure of it, Jungkook rolled down his window and slowed down next to you, “Y/N?” The familiar voice caught you off guard and caused you to turn. Surprisingly, you found Jungkook in his black luxurious car right next to you. And it was definitely bad that he could see your face full of sadness and regret.

Jungkook, who was ready to pop off his madness and yell at you, studied your face. Your eyes were puffy and watery, your nose was red and cheeks were a peachy color. You had been crying and for some reason, his face softened. It was weird seeing you cry and it didn’t make him feel good inside at all.

“Go ahead, laugh at me.”

Jungkook stood there with trying to keep no expression on his face, but he only blinked, “I… I’m not going to,” he said quietly and he took a deep breath with his chest rising, “Get in, it’s gonna rain soon and Jess is worried sick.”

You shook your head with your arms still locked, and making no eye contact with him, “No thanks, I’m fine.” You turned to walk off in the same direction you were heading. That wasn’t until “Y/N please.” Jungkook watched you walk away. But you just kept walking. You knew you didn’t want to deal with him. But he wasn’t going to let you walk away from him.

“Y/N please stop.” His voice arose and it sounded quite like a demand. But that didn’t stop you from turning around with a pissed look on your face with tears streaming down your cheeks. “And why do you care?” And at that, Jungkook stays silent for a while.

You couldn’t be bothered to turn around to face him properly, for your insides were seething with rage and your heart felt empty to the core. Jungkook was right, he always was. The things he said to your face, how badly he spoke of you, and now this, about the guy who you thought was pretty decent—and something about Jeon Jungkook being right about everything is making your jaw clench in anger as you recall the buried grudge he has for you. Why must he keep meddling in your life? Right now, you wished he just disappeared off the face of earth. That way, your life would be much, much easier. You wouldn’t have to keep caring about your stupid feelings getting hurt and being the constant target and Jungkook’s antics.

And that’s the worst part. Feelings.

You’ve been harboring them for him god knows since when and you are afraid to open up about it to him. There’s this side of you Jungkook always fails to see and you doubt he ever will. Even if he does, it is highly unlikely that he would even care. And that is the question bothering you most as of the moment.

Why did he fucking care?

With your back facing him, you missed how he churns on his inner cheek and doesn’t know where to put his gaze. The rain pattering on the concrete floor didn’t provide him with the answers he needed. He directed the question back to himself and he realized he could not give closure as well.

With a sigh, he spoke, “Because I hate seeing you sad when it’s because of someone else hurting you like no one should or I shouldn’t.”

“I know you’re upset but can you please get in the car for my own good sake to get you home and save you from being sick at least?” Without a word, or looking at him, you walked past him and your shoulders barely touched as you walked to the passenger side of his car. That gave him a slight tingle in himself as he’s rarely been that close to you.

On the way back home, it was pure silence in the thin atmosphere. Jungkook gave glances to you here and there but you never once took a glimpse at him. And your position was obvious. You were sitting with your legs tightly closed and your fingers were brushing against each other as you only looked out the window, keeping your emotions as stable as you could. But it was so difficult to just give in and not cry. Then you realized, how could you be so stupid to not listen to him? He was right. You were angry. Not at Jungkook. But yourself. You felt bitchy. So bitter. Yet it was wrong to be that way to him. Although he has had a big hatred for you, you just can’t ever treat him the same. It just doesn’t work that way for you, which is a big problem. You’re too nice.

“He hurt you didn’t he?” His soft voice snapped you out of your thoughts, that you didn’t even realize he was already parked in front of your apartment. You gazed over at him and by the look on your face, Jungkook felt a little pang in his heart. Eyes puffy and glossy, your nose and cheeks peachy. He has never seen you cry once before, not even has he seen you express a sad or depressing emotion. He’s always seen you smile.

“Yes. And I let him.” Your voice cracked as if it hit the flu. Jungkook clenches his lips as he caught your eyes blink with tiny little tears, “What did he do?” You shook your head, “Just something that I learn my mistake from. It’s nothing-“

“Y/N” He started, “What did he do?” He stared at you with a straight face, almost like a demand. And it wasn’t that he was forcing you. He needed to know.

You sighed quietly as you could feel the slight order from him and you just couldn’t say no to him. “He groped me.” You vocalized in a shaky tone. Jungkook could feel his blood boil fast and kept calm, “Where did he touch you, Y/N?” His voice lowered.

“I c-can’t tell you-“

“If you can’t tell me, then point to where did he touch you.”

You gulped and your heart thumped rapidly, “Um…” You didn’t want any trouble at all and you were so hesitant in just telling him Jonghoon’s attempt to getting in your pants. But Jungkook could tell what he tried to do when you stuttered and look down at your most private area. As soon as you picked your head up at him, your tears were already swimming around your eyes, “H-He-“ you tried to speak but you were cut off by Jungkook’s hand grabbing you and pulling you onto his lap with your legs straddling him, in which you began to let out a breathy cry. His arms engulfed around your fragile figure and he held you tight in his arms, your response with burying your face in his neck with your hands on his hard chest as you sobbed in his neck.

But this was weird. You’re sitting on your enemy’s lap and he’s comforting you. He’s practically holding you in his own arms and you’re letting him. Ye his comfort made you feel safe… and you didn’t want to pull away. You didn’t even dare to. His soothing fingers stroking your hair as his hand rubbed your back slowly but keeping a light grip on you.

Jungkook on the other hand, he didn’t know what in the hell is he doing or what he was thinking. Why is he holding you? Why did he grab you and suddenly felt that he needed to protect you? He was in rage deeply inside and one of these days when he finds Jonghoon, he’ll make sure he doesn’t have his perfectly straight teeth.

You were glued to each other, the steady beat of his heart making you never want to open your eyes. Some nights, you’d lie awake just thinking about what he would say if he ever felt guilty about what he did and here it was. And somehow, it was so much more than what you asked for. But you also were wary. The bigger part of you, though, knew he was being sincere, that he held this crushing guilt over his head over what happened between you two for the past five to six years.

”You don’t deserve this,” he softly spoke up along a sigh, “You’re too special and fragile…” He added.

Wait what? You pulled away from his neck and looked at him, “What?” Your cold soft voice barely could be audible. Jungkook got a better glimpse of you up close—broken and terrified. And it sure damn stabbed his own heart deeply. He locked a piece of your hair behind your ear as he stared at you, “I know I was an ass to you earlier but I know that what I’m about to tell you is what I really mean to say. You’re too unique and wonderful for him. He’s nothing but a scumbag looking for a just a fuck and you don’t need that. You need and will get a guy who will treat you loyally and kindly with all of his love for who you are. Any guy would be lucky to have you, Y/N. Wait for him…the right one will sweep you off your feet.” His thumb rubbed your hip softly and the feeling warmed your skin.

You blinked. Is he really telling you this or are you just dreaming?

He sighed, “Just trust me.” He said softly. Jungkook reached his hand up to your face and wiped your tears gently with his thumb, “You’re so beautiful…” And it was true to him. Being this up close to you, he was able to see your flaws but they resembled how gorgeous you are. You shook your head, you didn’t believe that “I’m not that-“

“Yes, you are.” He cut you off, “Honestly, you’re so attractive and stunning, don’t tell yourself you’re not beautiful when you have seen yourself in the mirror.” He looked into your eyes, deep into them.

And you just didn’t know what else to say because his brown doe eyes caught you off guard. Neither of you could look away and it’s like your eyes were having a never lasting conversation with each other. You could feel your own pupils dilate the more you looked closely into his, and you could have sworn that his eyes looked at your lips then at you. But you also didn’t think he did. And at that moment, it was when you come to the realization of what was going on, causing you to clear your throat, “Um..” you hummed, which had Jungkook probably get the memo too. You looked down awkwardly as your mind was going crazy but you remained calm, “Thanks for the ride… and listening.” You said softly. Jungkook eyes darted elsewhere but you with a blank expression on his face, “Yeah,” he started, “No problem.” He said and he just sat there, his tongue poking out of his.

You slowly got off his lap to the passenger side and got out his car, grabbing your bag as you fixed yourself and closing the door afterward without saying a word. Making your way into your apartment, you didn’t dare to look back. After locking the front door, you leaned your back against it, questioning what just happened.

You almost kissed your enemy.

[isakvaltrsen]

Skam fic love fest | Day 6: Recommendations

I’ve read lost of wonderful evak fics. fics that made me cry. fics that made me laugh out loud. fics that i couldn’t stop reading until I was done. I’m happy to share my favorites (arranged by word count, ascending). I put a heart in front of those fics that are my absolute favorites.

before it's all too much by thekardemomme | “It's in the past, Even. You can keep it there if you want to.” | 1.6k

Take this lonely heart by Tchell1 |The tears would not stop. They had kept coming since Even realized what had happened. Even was not normal. His terrible brain would highjack his body and do with it whatever it wanted. Isak would never love him. Even couldn’t even blame him. Even was never able to love himself. | 1.7k 

other lives and dimensions and finally a love poem by iphigenias | "Marry me," Isak says. Even almost drops the can of tuna he's holding. | 1.9k

The Study Buddy by wordsarelifealways/ @isaksredscarf | In this universe, Even meets Isak when he pours Red Bull into a black coffee at 7.15AM to cope with a morning class. Even's inner barista is horrified, but damn if the boy isn't cute. | 2k 

Must Be Love on the Brain by flowerbedofsouls | On Thursday 8th, Isak follows his friends' advice and takes a bus to Even. | 2k

The Hot Muffin Thief by @bellakitse | There is a magical muffin at the café where Isak's buddy Jonas works. It's Isak's lifeline, he has it every day and then one day some hot art hipster steals his muffin. | 2.2k

you are a kaleidoscope by grinsekaetzchen | The first time Even sees Isak across the schoolyard, his own magic grips him so tight, he has to sit down to get it under control again. Still, he doesn’t stop looking at Isak. | 2.4k

when i’m close to you (we blend into my favourite colour) by Behindthecities/@vanqoh | the the 5 times Isak forgets that he’s not dating Even and the 1 time he does something about it. | 2.5k

kiss me thru the phone by kaleidxscope | Even always forget to turn on his Wi-Fi and he has the bad habit of replying his phone company's texts. | 2.6k 

i'll paint the picture, let me set the scene by mmxii/@isakissyvaltersen | This might very well be the stupidest idea Isak has ever had. And he’s had his fair share of stupid ideas, so he knows what he’s talking about, okay. | 4k

Quidditch and liquorice wand kisses by @bellakitse | The first time Isak Valtersen meets Even Bech Næsheim the seven-year Ravenclaw chaser, it’s because the boy saves him from a bludger to the face. A Hogwarts AU | 4.2k

and you're the moon, i'm the water by gravinnen | turns out things like negative feelings and insecurities don't actually disappear by never talking about them to anyone ever and Isak's not too excited about that. time to face some fears. | 4.2k

it's going to rain on friday,  the twenty-second of december by vesperthine | Isak has tried to tell him that there’s nothing to discuss ( – that mom isn’t well, that dad is a coward, that he just wants to forget everything about family and expected happiness and just leech off of theirs – ) but every time Even has gone quiet and looked down; looked so sad that the conversation has just died. Which he knows is a fatal blow ( – a communicative meltdown – ) that leads to everything that he wants to avoid; screaming and crying that reminds all too much of the things he just wants to forget. | 4.3k

new beginnings by skamz | Isak moves into his new place and meets his new neighbors, a boy named Even and Satine, his cat. | 5k

and so i happily concede, this is all i ask, this is all i need by lovedisak | Even is fucking owning this marriage proposal thing.(with a little help) | 5k

let's have a team talk by colazitron/ @fille-lioncelle | Even is out for some non-alcoholic gløgg with his friends when he catches sight of a pretty blond boy. His friends do what all good friends would: play matchmaker. | 5.2k

scanned the skies with rainbow eyes by imminentinertia/@skamskada | He closes his eyes for a while, listening to the gentle whooshing sounds the waves make on the wet sand. The seagulls and the geese squawk a little and from afar he can hear a child laughing.He can also hear the soft padding of feet on the sand. Not goose feet, human ones. Close by. | 5.2k

❤️Spaces Between Us by allyasavedtheday/@littlespooneven | A fix-it fic for Even's storyline in season 4. | 5.6k

In Haunted Attics by GayaIsANerd/ @greathalesonfire | Isak meets Even a little earlier, a little more broken, a lot more lonely. | 6k

let me count the ways by anathema/ @azirapha1e | The worst part, the humiliating part, is that he’d thought he was over all this.He had been. He hasn’t thought about any of it in months – but sometimes life fucks you over, and sometimes a boy you tried to kiss, a boy who pushed you away, shows up to your first-month-of-living-together party unannounced, and sometimes you end up bolting out of your own apartment to have a panic attack where nobody can see you. | 6k

Sju Minutter by nusmag | It’s a love exercise, Isak supposes, shoving two people in the small, dark room under the tribune for seven minutes at a time. | 6.1k

we've built a home by skamz | after a bad breakup, Isak moves in with his new roommate, Even. He tries not to fall for him, and fails. | 6.2k

Large Americano, Extra Milk and Sugar by daigina | It's almost Valentine's Day. Mikael has a new job. Even has a new crush and no courage. This makes for lots of pining Evens, frustrated Mikaels, and spilled coffee. | 6.5k

The Boy Who Likes Isak's Smile by wyoheartsmusic/ @julian-dahl | Isak is heartbroken and there is a boy who is very determined to make him smile. | 7.6k

❤️ open the pod bay doors by iriswests/ @juilawicker | Even's trying to write a script for his class, Isak happens to catch a glimpse of the shit show, and they fall in love over a story of parallel universes. | 8.4k

Fall for You by Sabeley | If Isak could just stop embarrassing himself in front of the ridiculously attractive guy in his psychology class, that would be great. | 9.1k

ride with me, i'll ride with you by skamz | In an ideal world, Isak would spend this ride sitting by himself at the back of the train. In the real world, however, he has to allow this stranger to sit next to him.(A stranger whose shoulder he soon finds himself falling asleep on.) | 9.2k

baby we've got new love by itjustkindahappened | Isak is hella fucking gay and desperately single, and Eskild wants to change that. Even just has a thing about timing. Coffee shop AU with an ironic amount of tea enthusiasm and a whole lot of pining. | 9.5k

a constant state of closeness by chevythunder/ @icelandcurry | It starts with a hug. | 9.7k

Love Me Harder by tech_ftw | In which accidentally being added to a group text has unexpected consequences. Like falling in love. | 9.8k

❤️hell yeah, you the shit (that's why you're my equivalent) by colazitron | Even can't keep it in his pants, or his heart.or: Sometimes your boyfriend proposes and you just really want to sit on his dick. | 10.3k

it's mostly butterflies by hippopotamus/ @evenshands | “I’ve told you before,” Isak says, without looking up at Even. “The modern world relies on science and technology, Even. There’s no place for magic, it’s dangerous and unnecessary.” Little does he know, Even’s a witch. | 11.7k

LØRDAG 10:38 by wyoheartsmusic | Isak tries to understand what's going on after Even leaves their hotel suite butt-naked. Or: It's Saturday, 03.12.16, 10:38 and some things are the same while others are a little different. | 12.4k

It's a Wonderful Life by kapplebougher | It's a Wonderful Life AU, where Even believes the world would be better off without his existence. With the help of an angel though, he comes to realize that just maybe - that may not be entirely true.  | 13k

The Balloon Intervention by lovelycarcass | Even wants to get Isak's attention and the Balloon Squad decide to take matters into their own hands. | 13.3k

when your heart is bleeding, i'm coming to get you by cosetties | Isak doesn't exactly expect his hookup from last week to be the love advice columnist at the school newspaper he's working at. He also doesn't expect to fall even harder for him than he already has, which is a shame, really, since Even's crushing on someone else. | 13.5k

Never be the same by nofeartina | It starts with a bet - one of those really stupid ones: can they last an entire month without any kind of sex? It’s been 22 days – and Even is dying. | 14.2k

❤️Somewhere I’ve never been by MinilocIsland | The first time Even meets Jonas' best friend, nothing goes according to plan. | 14.6k 

turn my blue heart to red by allyasavedtheday/@littlespooneven​ | Because we need a doctor au. | 16.5k

as if by magic (thoughts of you are gone) by hippopotamus/ @evenshands | Isak hates being the third wheel to his best friends, until that means he gets to sit next to a handsome stranger on a rollercoaster. | 16.6k

Sideways and Slantways by iriswests | Isak gets stuck in an elevator with the one person he's vowed never to speak to again. This eventually prompts a conversation long overdue, but not without the memories flooding his brain like a broken dam first. | 17.6k

And they were right in front of you the whole time by Ihavecoldhands |  Isak and Even meet as children, but it takes them a while to become friends. It takes them a little longer to become more. | 18.3k

something in the language of trees by scarletbluebird | AU where Isak's job really was to be Even's friend. | 20.8k

Eight Count by bri_ness/ @brionbroadway | Isak is a dancer who is losing his passion. Right when his best friend, Eva, needs his help with her struggling dance company. But when the famous Even Bech Næsheim joins their company, Isak thinks he might find inspiration again. | 21k

All the climbing, all the falling by Alene/ @tristealven | Isak and Even never saw each other after that night at the Plaza. Five years later Isak studies molecular biology in Bergen and keeps running into someone tall and blond.It rains a lot, there are mountains to climb, and some things start to fall into place. |  21.8k

snow and dirty rain by grinsekaetzchen/ @hotchocolatenthusiast | In which Vilde starts a book club because someone else already started kosegruppa, Even is a book nerd, who recites poetry, and Isak struggles to see the point of reading boring books when he could just watch the film versions; except, that he meets Even, so maybe book club isn't that much of a waste of time as he's previously thought. | 23k

No Rain, No Roses by @fxckxxp | Science brains and art brains were meant to fall in love. Or: Isak and Even restore a house together and make it a home. | 23.2k

Let go when you give it by unsungyellowraincoat/ @isaksbestpillow | Isak is a tired biology student who has no time for love, he barely manages to take care of himself. Until two small dogs and a tall handsome stranger change all of that.Or Isak and Even meet at a dog park. | 23.5k

❤️i guess that's destiny doing it right by allyasavedtheday/@littlespooneven​ | the alternate universe where Even originally went to Nissen and became friends with Isak and Jonas when they started first year but moved away after his episode at the end of first year only for Isak to never hear from him again. Fastforward to the summer before Isak starts college when he’s travelling around Spain and bumps into a certain someone in Barcelona. | 26.4k

Dear Friend by bri_ness/ @brionbroadway | Isak and Even work together in a failing video store, and they cannot stand each other. Isak and Even both signed up for the Love Letters dating service, and they’re both falling for their anonymous pen pal. | 26.8k

please hurry leave me, i can't breathe by cosetties | For the first time in his goddamn life, Isak is focusing on himself. Trusting people, loving people, has never worked out well for him anyway. The last thing he needs is Even, who looks at him like he sees right through him, like Isak is worthy of something more. | 27.3k 

❤️in better light, everything changes by TimeInABottle | Isak accidentally texts a stranger (Even) while trying to text Sana. | 31k 

you're gonna sing the words wrong by strangetowns | In which Even is simultaneously the biggest loser and the hottest teenager on the planet, and Isak is simultaneously super gay and super pressed about it. Or: a marching band AU. | 32k

Guru Knows Best by StMisery | Isak grumps, and Eskild schemes. But it's all in the name of love. For their gorgeous new neighbour (and a little for each other too). Even moves into the apartment across the hall, and Isak's just trying to make it another day without dying of embarrassment. | 36.6k

❤️Play That Song by kapplebougher | Every day, Even catches a boy in a snapback who sneaks in to play the piano at the summer camp Even works at. Even's never seen him before. But if the boy's good looks hadn't already captivated him, then his phenomenal piano-playing ability certainly has. Even doesn't know much about love at first sight, but he thinks that this is pretty close. | 41k

Things Look Different in the Morning by allyasavedtheday/ @littlespooneven​ | In which Even needs a place to stay, kollektivet gains a new roommate, and Isak just really wants to sleep. | 46.8k

I'll Be Coming Home, Wait For Me by dahlstrom | The diner AU. Even and Yousef open a 1950s American-style restaurant together - Even is the creative genius in the kitchen, Yousef keeps the trains running on time, and Isak, Chris B, and Magnus are all along for the ride. Falling in love over food while Elvis serenades from the jukebox. Welcome to the Throwback Diner. | 47.9k

four movements on a first wedding by chevythunder/ @icelandcurry | Isak's spent years keeping his distance to Even, worried that any kind of closeness could trigger feelings he won't be able to suppress. Waking up married to Even after a blurry night in Las Vegas throws a slight wrench in those plans. | 48k

❤️Though our parts are slightly used by Teatrolley | Isak is pining for Jonas, and Even is pining for Mikael. Jonas and Mikael are dating. Isak and Even meet Or: Isak thinks love is a risk, and Even thinks it's tragedy. That's the beginning, anyway. | 54k

❤️a mental archive of love unwanted by chevythunder/ @icelandcurry | Even moves into a new flat, gains new friends and tries not to have his heart broken. He nails the first two. | 71k

❤️sua lumina; sidus series by shoulderbone/@odeto-psyche | What he wants to say, and cannot bring himself to admit: Before you there was no real me. Only a person pretending to be. Or, alternatively: Isak comes back to face death, and in the meantime, finds rebirth. | 101k

❤️with love, from anonymous by cosetties, iriswests | Isak just wants to get his coffee in peace, Even has a crush, and there's a secret admirer on the loose. | 136k 

[whimsical-ness]

Guilty | Chanyeol

◇ Link to Masterlist

◇ Genre: Angst

◇ Warnings: Contains themes of adultery and cheating (obviously these things are UNACCEPTABLE; this fic is not meant to promote them)

◇ Summary: Two strangers. Two different marriages on the verge of disrepair. A sudden, illicit romance that never meant to break any hearts; but did.

◇ Word Count: 7.6k

◇ A/N: Based on the Bollywood film ‘Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna’.

“What is a beautiful bride doing sitting out here by herself when the groom is waiting at the alter?”

You looked up with a start, only to be met with a tall, lean man, his hair falling over his eyes. “Excuse me?”

To your surprise, he plonked down on the bench next to you with a sigh. You inched away from him.

“Do I know you?” you asked, unnerved by this stranger. He glanced at you. “No. But I was just passing by and thought it a bit strange that a bride should be sitting on a bench outside the wedding hall looking dejected, when this should be the happiest day of her life.”

You stared at him. 

The stranger smiled slightly. “My apologies. I’m naturally very intrusive. But you look like you need someone to talk to.” You cleared your throat. “I’m fine, thanks,” you said. When the stranger didn’t budge, you sighed.

“Okay. I’m not fine. I’m scared, and uncertain, and confused. I don’t know if I want this marriage,” you blurted.

The stranger held up his hands. “Whoa. Maybe you just have cold feet.”

You swallowed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“How long have you known the guy?” asked the stranger. “My whole life. We basically grew up together. When my parents died...Alex and his family became mine too,” you said, fiddling with your hands.

“Alex. Sounds like a great guy, then,” mused the stranger. “Do you love him?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “I’m just not sure I love him enough.”

The stranger looked at you knowingly. “Trust me, once you’re married, everything’s an adjustment anyway. Things like love...I’m not even sure they matter after a point. Even so, I’m sure it’s possible to find love even after you’re married. Don’t you think so?” 

You tilted your head. “Why does it sound as if you’re talking from experience?” 

He snorted. “I’ve been married for 2 years now. My wife and I were madly in love. Nowadays we just—tolerate each other.” It stunned you to see how calm he looked as he said it. 

“But don’t let that daunt you,” he continued. “In my opinion, you should give it a chance. You love this guy, he loves you. I’m sure everything will work out fine in the end.”

You didn’t really know what to say. “Thanks for the free advice,” you said softly, still a bit overwhelmed. 

“No problem,” said the stranger, getting up, his slight smile returning. “Now get back in there and get married.”

You smiled. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Chanyeol,” he responded, raising a hand in farewell. “Hope to see you around, Y/N.”

3 years later.

You were incredibly late to work. Your boss was going to kill you. And you were going to kill Alex, for being the reason for it all.

He had insisted on taking you out to a ridiculous party the night before, and had completely ignored your repeated protests regarding it being a working day. And you had come home terribly late and obviously been unable to wake up this morning. 

You cursed under your breath as you made a beeline for the subway station, simultaneously rummaging through your purse for your wallet. 

You were in such a rush that you barely noticed where you were walking, and ran smack dab into somebody who was walking in the opposite direction, equally as fast. Your heel slipped against the station floor, your arms flailing as you tried to catch your balance. Unfortunately, your foot twisted, leaving you yelping in pain and dropping down to the floor in agony.

The person you’d run into cursed. “Shit. Shit I’m sorry.” He crouched down beside you, extending an arm. “Can you stand?”

“No, I don’t think I can,” you snapped angrily. “I think I’ve twisted it now. Fucking fantastic,” you said, glaring up to see who the hell had caused this mess.

You blinked. The man blinked back. “I know you,” you said stupidly. “Yo-you’re that guy I met before my wedding. Chanyeol?”

It was definitely him. His hair was still flopped over his forehead, his eyes still that warm brown color. They widened as he recognized you. “Y/N?”

You made Chanyeol take you to the hospital to get your foot bandaged up. It was only fair.

“Why did I agree to this?” he wondered, shaking his head as you sat with your arms crossed on the hospital bed. “Because it’s common courtesy. You injured me,” you pointed out.

“You know, if you’d just been looking up as you walked, neither of us would be here right now,” he shot back. “I was in a hurry. And you weren’t looking where you were going either,” you replied.

Chanyeol let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Forget this. How’s married life?”

You looked at him in surprise at the sudden question. “Um. It’s good,” you said awkwardly. Chanyeol raised his brows. “What?” you asked defensively. He shrugged. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?” 

You gaped at him. “How dare you? I wasn’t lying! I’m happy with Alex. And why do you care anyway?”

“Hey, I just wanted to know how my advice turned out,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And seemingly so, it didn’t go so well.”

“I can see it in your eyes,” he said, leaning forward. “That emptiness. The longing for something more, the hope for things to change. Your eyes...they’re not so different from my own, Y/N.” He looked sad.

His words rang in your head, loud and clear. They unnerved you. But who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Look, Chanyeol, you don’t know me. And you know nothing about my husband, or my marriage. I don’t appreciate you being so rude and all-assuming for God knows what reason,” you said fiercely. “Thank you for bringing me here. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave now.”

“Not on that foot,” he said, a small smile spreading across his face as he saw you notice your bandaged but still throbbing foot. 

You huffed and looked away.

“Why don’t you look around you when you walk, baby?” said Alex that night. You’d annoyingly had to call him to pick you up from the hospital. 

“I wouldn’t have been in such a goddamn rush if I had woken up on time, Alex,” you said, seething. “It’s all because of that stupid party that this happened.”

Your husband let out a short laugh. “You’re kidding. If you were really that against coming, you should’ve said so.”

“I did Alex! But you don’t ever listen! That’s the problem,” you said, shaking your head. The pent up anger was bubbling inside you, threatening to blow up. “Tell me, when was the last time we did something I wanted?”

Alex snorted. “We never do anything you want because your idea of fun is boring. You’d have us cleaning the house or something. No offense babe.”

You felt something snap. 

Later, as you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, Chanyeol’s words haunted you. Your eyes. Was the emptiness you felt on a daily basis that visible in them? The unspoken desires, wishes and hope? 

The fact that, even after 3 years of being married to someone and having them by your side, you always felt terribly alone?

You ran into Chanyeol the next day again, with you limping along this time. “You again,” he said, looking you up and down. 

“How is it that I’ve been using this subway almost everyday for the past 3 years but only now am I running into you all the time?” you muttered. “They say you only run into the people you want to meet,” mused Chanyeol.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, now that I’ve met you, let me ask you a few questions about your marriage,” you said, emphasizing the words. “It’s my turn to be intrusive.”

Chanyeol shrugged, getting into the train behind you. You turned to him as you sat down next to him. “How have 5 years of marriage suited you?”

“Not much has changed,” he replied coolly. “We’re still together, but only on paper, you see. We live together, but we almost hardly see each other. She’s always travelling around.”

“What does your wife do for a living?” you asked curiously. Chanyeol’s smile was bitter. “She’s a model. Tia Park.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Y-you’re married to Tia Park? Sh-she’s the most sought after model in this country! She’s—”

“Gorgeous, breathtaking, sexy,” Chanyeol said, ticking the imaginary words off in the air. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”

You still couldn’t believe what he’d told you. “Wow,” you said. “You must feel like the luckiest man on the planet.”

Chanyeol laughed, but there was an edge to his voice when he spoke. “For the most part, maybe. Of course, a ridiculously attractive woman is only worth all the admiration when it comes to bed. Other than that—“

You cut him off, disgusted. “You’re despicable. She’s your wife. Have some respect, will you?” 

Chanyeol said nothing, but you could see something dark simmering in his eyes. You stood up as your station arrived, and he stood up with you. “What, you get off at the same station as me?” you asked, surprised.

“My studio’s around the corner,” he replied. “Studio?” you asked.

“I’m a music producer,” he said, smiling slightly. You were impressed. “You have quite an interesting life, Chanyeol,” you said, stepping out of the train. 

“You don’t know half of it,” he said, and with a half-hearted wave, he was gone.

An idea was moulding itself into your brain. You weren’t sure whether it was a good one at all, or whether it was even necessary, but you wanted to give it a chance all the same.

And so you were ready for Chanyeol when you saw him the next day. “Give me your number,” you blurted, holding out your phone. He raised his eyebrows. 

“Look, I have this idea. And it’s probably dumb. But I think we could both use some help, you know?” you said. Chanyeol took your phone and entered his number in, smirking. “Well if you want to call it help, by all means, do so,” he said, still smirking as he handed your phone back to you.

It took you a second to realize what he was implying. You glared at him. “Shut up. That’s not what I meant. Meet me at the Starbucks across the station when you’re done with work, okay?”

You were pleasantly surprised when he actually turned up, his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He was quite attractive, you realized.

“You came,” you said, clearing your throat. Chanyeol grinned, taking the seat across from you. “Only to help,” said slowly, winking. You rolled your eyes.

“I thought about what you said to me the other day,” you started. “About how my eyes look empty, how I seem as if I’m seeking more.”

Chanyeol said nothing. You looked down at your cup of coffee. “And you were right. I’m not happy in my marriage, Chanyeol. I thought once I got married that I would come to love Alex the way he loves me, that I would be happy. But it’s been 3 years and I’m still waiting.”

Chanyeol leaned back in his chair. “And?”

“And from what I can tell, and from what you’ve told me yourself, you aren’t happy with your marriage either,” you said slowly. Chanyeol looked at you expectantly while you paused. 

“So I was thinking...and I think we could help each other,” you said finally, biting your lip. “I need a friend, Chanyeol. I need someone who can relate to what’s happening in my life. And...I think it should be you.”

Chanyeol let out a short laugh. “And what exactly is this friendship going to do for either of us, hm?”

You swallowed. “Don’t you want to fix your marriage?” Chanyeol hesitated. “If I say yes?”

“Then I’ll help you,” you said. “I’ll help you, Chanyeol. And you can help me fix mine.”

Chanyeol sighed. “Alright. Fine. Let’s do it, then. Let’s make things right, together,” he said. 

You let out a relieved breath. “Together.”

And so began Fix Your Marriage 101.

You and Chanyeol met everyday, exchanging advice at the station, on the train, at the café after work. You telling him how to treat his wife better, him telling you be less uptight and to try and understand your husband better.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to let your hair down a bit,” he said one day, while the two of you were walking along the streets leading back to your apartment block. “This Alex of yours, he likes parties?” You nodded, sighing. “He owns an event management firm. He basically lives and breathes parties.”

“Ah. Then it’s not so wrong of him to expect you to go along with him for a few,” said Chanyeol. “What about you, then?” you shot back. “Do you go to Tia’s shows? Do you show her how much you care, how you’re proud of her and that you’ll support her no matter what?”

Chanyeol was silent. “Exactly. I think we both know what we need to do,” you said, knowingly.

And so you took his advice. In fact, you decided to throw Alex one of his much loved parties yourself, for his birthday as a surprise.

You spent the week planning it, with Chanyeol helping you buy decorations. He even helped you put them up in your apartment, when Alex was out. He seemed uncomfortable with it at first, being in your house when your husband wasn’t. But when you insisted that of course it was only to help you decorate, he gave in.

He sat on your couch, unwillingly blowing up balloons, his cheeks puffed up, his hair over his eyes. You found yourself smiling as you looked at him. When he locked eyes with you over the balloon, you quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed to have been caught staring.

You grabbed the streamers, climbing up onto a chair to stick them up onto the walls. Infuriatingly, you couldn’t seem to be able to stick the tip of the last one, and you stretched as far as you could, groaning as your arm strained itself, your foot at the edge of the chair. And before you knew it, your foot slipped. 

You yelped in surprise, trying to hold on to something, anything, to stop your fall. And then you felt a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, steadying you, lowering you onto the ground. You looked up in surprise.

Chanyeol was gazing down at you, his lips parted. You felt an odd skip of your heart beat. You were suddenly acutely aware of the way he was holding you, the scent of his aftershave, the way his breaths were uneven.

You quickly pulled away from him, feeling your face grow hot. He cleared his throat. “You honestly might be the clumsiest person I’ve ever met,” he said, laughing awkwardly.

“Do you—do you want to come to the party too?” you asked suddenly. Chanyeol rubbed the back of his neck. “Um. And who exactly would you introduce me as?”

His question caught you off guard. “My friend,” you said slowly. Chanyeol looked away. “Nah, it’s okay. Just let me know how it goes, yeah?” he said.

“Yeah. Of course,” you replied, suddenly awkward.

The party turned out to be a huge success. Alex was genuinely surprised to find all of his friends there, popping champagne and handing him presents.

His eyes lit up when he saw you shyly standing on the side. “Baby, you did this for me?” You nodded. “Happy Birthday, Alex.”

He pulled you in for a kiss as his friends cheered, and in your head you thanked Chanyeol for his help. You’d finally scored a goal. You’d made Alex happy, and you felt happy.

Except, for the rest of the evening, you found yourself wishing that he was with you to celebrate this tiny victory. 

“You’ll never believe what Alex told me yesterday,” you piped when you saw Chanyeol the next week. “His company is organizing a charity fashion show here next week. And he very excitedly informed me that Tia Park is going to be on the runway.”

Chanyeol tilted his head. “What a strange sort of coincidence.”

“I know!” you said excitedly. “And this is the perfect opportunity for you to make your move. You have to come to the show and support her. She’ll be so pleased.”

“Oh I don’t know—”

“Nope. You have to come. Surprise her. Wear your best tux, alright?” you said, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s show everyone how romantic Tia Park’s husband really is.”

You managed to convince him, but he dragged you into taking him shopping for a tux, because apparently, he didn’t have one.

“I can’t believe you’re married to a model and don’t own a decent tuxedo,” you said, sighing as he held out one to show you in the store. “I don’t go to many fancy parties,” Chanyeol said, shrugging, and went inside the changing room.

Your breath caught in your throat when he came out, the expensive black material fitting him perfectly, as if it were made for him. He looked so different from his usual casual hoodie and jeans attire, that his handsomeness struck you all at once.

He glanced at you as he adjusted the blazer, grinning when he saw you staring. “What, do I look that good?”

You coughed. “You clean up nicely, Yeol,” you said. He seemed startled at the sudden use of a nickname. “What, does no one call you that?” you asked, suddenly regretting what you’d said. “Tia used to. A lot,” he said, smiling slightly.

Right.

That weekend, Alex was a nervous wreck because of the show. You tried your best to calm him down and assure him that everything was going to go smoothly, but he wasn’t having any of it, instead lashing out and making a fuss.

You were, quite frankly, fed up. 

You put on your best dress for the event, and did your hair and makeup properly for once. Of course, you couldn’t compare to any of the gorgeous models that were going to walk down the runway there. Especially Tia Park.

That brought your mind back to Chanyeol. You hoped he was okay, that he would turn up and that everything would go according to plan. Not that there was really a plan. All he had to do was be there and look happy for his wife.

Once you reached the venue, Alex disappeared from your side, rushing backstage to ensure nothing was wrong. The place began to fill up with people, all posh and important looking, dressed to their finest.

You craned your neck around to search for Chanyeol, but you couldn’t see him. You pulled out your phone and sent him a text.

And then it was finally time for the show. You took your seat next to your husband, still praying that Chanyeol would turn up.

The models began to walk down the runway, one after another, all donning clothes that were later going to be auctioned off, with the money all going to a charity. Trendy music blared in the background.

You smiled and clapped as the models posed, and so did Alex, seemingly now relaxed to see things going smoothly enough. “See, I told you you’d do a good job,” you whispered to him, and he squeezed your hand in thanks.

And then finally, the star of the show, the most popular model in recent years, Tia Park, strutted out onto the runway.

You’d seen countless pictures of her, of course, but seeing her in real life, doing her thing, was something else entirely. She was stunning. Tall, ultra slim, and insanely graceful. Her raven black hair flounced over the shoulders as she walked, her smile radiant and endearing. 

Any guy would fall head over heels for her. Even Alex was staring at her, his lips parted in awe. You smacked his arm to get him back into his senses.

She spun once, posing as the cameras flashed repeatedly. And then she waved and bowed in thanks, as all the other models came back onto the runway. Everyone cheered.

And then, in the corner of your eye, you spotted him. Chanyeol. He’d made his way to a seat in the last row; you could hardly see him. But it was him. You smiled as you saw him clap in appreciation, his eyes on his glowing wife.

After the show, there was a buffet dinner. The guests all began to disperse, talk, and mingle. Alex introduced you to countless people, and you smiled and talked to everyone politely. 

But only Chanyeol was on your mind. 

And then finally, you saw him. He was with Tia, and she looked incredibly happy. “I can’t believe you surprised me like this, Yeol! You hate events like these,” you heard her say. You felt a jolt as you heard her call him by his nickname.

Chanyeol smiled at her. “For you, darling. Of course I came.” 

You caught your breath as he glanced towards you and Alex, and you locked eyes with him. He looked dashing.

“Babe, let me introduce you to Tia Park,” said Alex from beside you. You averted your eyes from Chanyeol as you approached them, Alex greeting Tia with a typical cheek-to-cheek kiss. “Tia, this is my wife, Y/N,” said Alex, and you put on your brightest smile. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Tia. You absolutely stole the show,” you said, and Tia smiled modestly. “You’re too kind,” she said. “Oh, this is my husband,” she said, turning to Chanyeol, who to your surprise, was still looking at you. Your heart thumped.

“Trust me, it’s rare to find him at any of my shows,” she joked, and Chanyeol smiled. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, his voice low as he shook Alex’s hand. His gaze brushed over you, once, and his lips lifted slightly. 

You wanted to talk to him so badly, for it to be the just the two of you. You didn’t understand why it had suddenly become so hard for you to speak, and why he was acting so cold towards you.

And then Tia was whisking him away with her, to introduce him to people, your chance of talking to him gone.

You couldn’t fathom why your chest had tightened so much, suddenly. You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. You tore your eyes away from Chanyeol and Tia, an uncomfortable prick in your heart. 

You should be delighted, shouldn’t you? For your husband, who’s show had been a success; for your friend, who had finally made his wife happy? 

Then why did you feel as though something inside you had broken?

The next time you met Chanyeol, you almost wished you hadn’t. Something about him was confusing you, and you didn’t like it. And you were weirdly hurt by his behavior at the fashion show. 

Hadn’t you been the one who had persuaded him into going? The one who had picked out his tux, had texted him advice? Admittedly, you’d at least expected him to say something, if not an outright thank you.

But then you had to remind yourself that he had been there for his wife, not you. Who were you, anyway, to compare to the beautiful and successful Tia Park?

And so you didn’t bring up the event at all, when you saw him. And he didn’t talk about it either.

“Hey, if you aren’t doing anything after work, do you want to come see my studio?” he asked suddenly. You wanted to say no. That it was probably a bad idea, because your thoughts were a mess.

But you nodded. “Sure. I’ll stop by.”

And so you did. Chanyeol came outside to greet you. He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not the most amazing place in the world...but it’s my favourite place in the world,” he said, opening the glass door. 

You smiled as you looked around. His hoodie was draped over the large leather chair. All sorts of recording equipment were present, all of which were extremely unfamiliar to you. The only thing you recognized was a guitar, resting on its stand, and the comfy looking couch in the corner.

Chanyeol noticed your face and began to laugh. “What?” you asked bewildered. “You look so lost,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s hilarious.”

You grinned. “Hey, cut me some slack. I’ve never seen the inside of a studio before.”

“Alright, let me show you the works,” he said, pulling back the chair and gesturing for you to sit. He grabbed a stool and sat down next to you.

He spent the next 15 minutes explaining what each little button did, how he could manipulate the sound, how he recorded the music he created. You listened to him with fascination.

But it wasn’t so much because the things he was saying were interesting you; it was him. You were enthralled listening to him speak in earnest, his fingers flying over his laptop to play you his music. You could see his excitement, his passion for doing what he did. It was crystal clear to you he loved creating music. Something about this made you flustered, but you couldn’t put a finger on why.

You didn’t realize you were staring at him until it was too late. He was saying something about his guitar, but you had zoned out. You were staring at him, his warm brown eyes, his sticky-out ears, his plush pink lips. 

And then he stopped speaking, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your lack of response. Your heart hammered as his gazed back at you. You had never in your life seen anything so beautiful. You saw him swallow. 

“I-I asked if you wanted to listen to a song I’m working on, on my guitar,” he said finally. You let out a breath. “Oh. Yeah, I’d love to,” you said, trying to shake yourself out of it. What was happening to you?

He picked up his guitar and began to strum, a soft, pleasant melody that seeped through your skin. And when he began to sing, his voice deep and low, you thought you would stop breathing. 

When he stopped, he glanced up at you. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” you whispered. You weren’t just talking about the song. 

Chanyeol’s eyes were shining. You felt as though you were falling. 

“You know,” he said, his voice strangely hoarse. “Sometimes, I wish I wasn’t married.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Why would you say that?” you asked softly. And then he was shaking his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No reason.”

You decided to avoid Chanyeol for the next week. Which meant asking Alex to drop you to work everyday. A fact he wasn’t too happy about, which meant you taking a cab instead.

You understood, of course, that it was because he was busy. He didn’t have the time to drop you off; it was the truth. But the logical aspect did not stop you from feeling hurt anyway.

He just wasn’t meant for you. You had always known it, deep down. He didn’t make your heart race, your breath quicken. He didn’t make you breathless, nervous, or excited.

Like Chanyeol did.

You felt horribly guilty for even thinking it. But you knew it was true. You were falling for Chanyeol, and you didn’t know what to do about it. 

It was driving you crazy. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, every day, every night. It was wrong. It was so wrong. But you couldn’t help it.

Then one weekend, it was as if everything came crashing down. You had an argument with Alex. A huge one. You hadn’t even realized how it had started. It had been something small, surely, but it had erupted into an unstoppable mess. You, accusing him of being selfish; him accusing you of never having loved him. 

His words had cut you deep. They were too close to home for you to bear. It had been the truth, hadn’t it? You had never loved him, not the way he wanted you to.

You had grabbed your phone and your coat and had left the apartment, your breaths coming in heavy gasps, your hands shaking as you dialled the number of the only person you wanted to see, the only person who would make you feel okay.

You made your way to the subway station, the night breeze ruffling your hair. You were desperately holding in the tears that were threatening to fall. 

And there he was. Standing in the centre of the deserted station, wearing his ever-favourite hoodie. His face was grim.

You stopped a few meters away from him, swallowing. “You came.”

“I was almost not going to,” said Chanyeol. “But then, I decided, I didn’t have to stoop down to your level and avoid you. So I came.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. “I can explain—”

“Explain? Please do,” Chanyeol cut you off. “Explain to me why you’ve been avoiding all my calls, why I haven’t seen you in nearly 2 weeks, why you suddenly decided you wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Go ahead. Explain.”

You voice shook as you spoke. “Why don’t you explain some things too then, Chanyeol? Explain to me why at the fashion show, you looked at me as if I was a stranger, why you pretended as if I didn’t even exist. I want to know.”

Chanyeol narrowed his eyes. “There are so many questions that need to be answered, aren’t there?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, defiantly. “Go on then. Why don’t you answer them for me?”

Chanyeol let out a short laugh. “You want answers? Okay. I’ll give you answers. The 18th of March, 2014. The day I met you for the first time, sitting on that bench in your stupid wedding dress. I remember the exact date, Y/N. In that moment, I felt as though I had known you for years, even though I’d just met you.”

Your mouth fell dry.

Chanyeol’s eyes were blazing. “Every single day, I miss my station on the subway and get off at yours instead, and then take a cab back to my studio. Why? Because it means I get to talk to you for 5 extra minutes. Does that answer your question?”

“Chanyeol—”

“Or the fact that even though we part ways every morning, or we go back to our respective spouses at night, the only thing on my mind is you and your smile?” he said, his voice shaking now. “Tell me, Y/N, are those the answers you wanted to hear?”

A single tear spilled down your cheek. “What are you trying to say?” you whispered, though you knew what he was going to reply.

Chanyeol ran his hand through his hair roughly, his breathing ragged. “I love you, goddamnit! I fucking love you. And you love me too,” he said, his voice rising.

You began to shake your head, the tears spilling in constant streams now, with no intention of stopping. 

“Wh-what should we do?” you stammered through your sobs. Chanyeol’s eyes were moist as he replied. 

“I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and walked out of the station as fast as you could, brushing at your cheeks roughly to wipe the tears away, even as you cried the entire way home.

He loved you. Chanyeol loved you. And he knew—he knew you loved him too. Had you made it that obvious?

There was no point even thinking about it though, was there? You were married. He was married. You were both being delusional.

But god, did you want him. And now that you knew he wanted you too, it was taking everything in you not go running into his arms.

And so you continued your regime of avoiding him. You were determined to get him out of your head. Even if it meant you secretly cried in the bathroom every night while Alex was asleep.

Your regime lasted a grand total of 10 days. 

On the 10th day, you found yourself standing outside his studio, your hands shaking with the thought of what you’d come to do.

You pushed open the glass door and there he was, sitting in his leather chair, headphones over his ears. You steeled yourself and walked over to him, pulling the headphones off his head.

He swung around in his chair. “What the fu—”

And then you grabbed his face and leaned down, pressing your lips to his. Your mind was spinning.

Chanyeol made a surprised noise at the back of his throat, but his hands came up to hold your waist, and he pulled you down onto his lap. He kissed you back with such vigor that you thought you were going to run out of air to breath, every cell in your body alive.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, your lips swollen, you could hardly believe what had just happened.

“You’re insane,” breathed Chanyeol. “One minute you’re running off crying and I hear nothing from you for like 2 weeks, and the next thing I know I’m being ambushed and kissed like I’ve never been kissed before.”

You blushed scarlet. You attempted to get off of his lap, embarrassed, but he grabbed your arm so that you couldn’t move. 

“I don’t know what came over me,” you mumbled. “I just missed you.”

“I missed you too,” said Chanyeol, his eyes softening. “So damn much.”

“So now what?” you asked, biting your lip. “I think you made that choice by coming here,” he replied. “If you want this, I want this.”

You nodded, pushing down the guilt that was beginning to rise up inside you. “I want this,” you said, with a sense of finality. 

Your heart swelled as Chanyeol smiled, his dimple on display. Whatever the consequences of this relationship were going to be, you decided, you were ready for them.

After that, it was like you were transported into a whole new world. A different universe, where it was just you and Chanyeol. Chanyeol and you.

The days and weeks passed by in a blur, the two of you in your happy little bubble of just being together. You met each other every single day, first on the subway, then for lunch, and then at his studio after you were done with work.

You had never felt this happy before. And it scared you to think that this happiness was scarred by a perilous circumstance.

Because you were cheating. You were cheating on your husband, and Chanyeol was cheating on his wife. This affair the two of you had going on, how long was it going to last, before something went terribly wrong?

For Chanyeol, it was relatively easy, because Tia was travelling so much of the time. But for you, you had to go back home every night and face Alex, something that made you sick to your stomach. The guilt very nearly ripped you up inside; how he was completely oblivious, and how he never suspected a thing.

And then one day, a shockingly close encounter brought the both of you crashing down to your senses.

You were meeting Chanyeol for lunch, not a care in your mind about anything but seeing him again. And you could see him just across the street, a pedestrian streetlight being the only thing separating you. You waved at him excitedly, shaking your head fondly when he held up a huge bouquet of flowers.

He really could be very romantic if he wanted to be.

And then the streetlight turned green, and you began to walk towards him, still smiling. His grin in return was radiant.

And then all of a sudden, you saw a sudden panic wash over his features. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused, as his eyes darted from you to somewhere behind you. 

You were almost there now, about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong. And then he was tearing his eyes away from you, plastering a smile onto his face.

“Tia!”

You felt your heart stop and you whirled around, praying she hadn’t seen you. You bent your head, your hair falling over the side of your face. Your heart hammered as you realized what could have happened.

“Flowers? For me?” you heard Tia exclaim in surprise. “Chanyeol, when did you get this romantic?”

You felt an uncomfortable lurch in your stomach as you walked away from them, not daring to turn back even once in fear of been seen and recognized.

Later, Chanyeol found you outside the restaurant, his face sad as he handed you a single rose. “Managed to save one for you,” he said softly, kissing you on the cheek.

You attempted to smile. You hoped it hid the raw guilt that was eating away at you inside.

One weekend, Alex surprised you by taking you on a spontaneous trip. This mean you couldn’t talk to Chanyeol at all, and even though you wanted to, a part of you was almost glad to have the time away from him.

It meant that atleast for a few days, you were relieved of the constant gnawing guilt.

Alex was surprisingly sweet the entire time, agreeing to do whatever you wanted to. It was his apology, he said, for the way he had behaved that night when you’d fought.

Oh, that fateful night.

His sudden change in attitude was only making you feel worse. You were committing the worst sort of crime possible in a marriage. You had never fathomed that you would be that person; the person who mercilessly cheated on their spouse and didn’t care.

Chanyeol was in a strangely bad mood when you arrived back home. You went to see him at the studio as soon as you got back.

“How was your weekend with Alex?” he asked, his tone sarcastic. “Quite nice, actually,” you replied, narrowing your eyes. “What about you? Spent some time with Tia?”

“Yes I did, actually,” he said nonchalantly. “I had forgotten how good she was in bed.”

Your mouth turned sour. “What did you just say?”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows. “What? That I slept with my wife?” You let out a short laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“Why, does that bother you?” he asked, something dangerous simmering in the depths of his eyes. “Of course it fucking bothers me,” you snapped. “Why are you being such a dick?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Don’t act like you expect me to believe that nothing happened between you and Alex on your little weekend getaway.”

You felt something nasty unfurl inside you. “You’re right, actually. We did sleep together. And it was the best I’ve had in awhile, let me tell you,” you said.

It was a lie. You hadn’t slept with Alex in a long time.

But the effect it had on Chanyeol was instantaneous. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he clenched it, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You saw a glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“What?” you piped, knowing perfectly well that you should shut up. “Did that bother you, Chanyeol?”

His nostrils flared, once. And then he was grabbing you by the arm and pulling you to him. You gasped as you felt his fierce grip on you. “Yes, it bothered me,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I don’t want the image of him even touching you in my mind. You’re mine, Y/N. Only mine.”

And then he was crushing his lips to yours, with an urgency that you had never experienced before. His hands wound up in your hair, and you let him part your lips with his tongue, shuddering as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Before you knew it, he was lowering you onto the couch, his shirt already on the floor, his hands grabbing at yours to get it off of you. “Mine,” he whispered, in between wet kisses down your throat. “Only mine.”

The small voice in your head that was warning you that you were going too far was completely shut out by the blinding desire you felt, only wanting him to get closer to you, to hear him whisper your name, to feel him unravel in pleasure because of you.

And so you let it happen. You let your body talk instead of your mouth, you let yourself cross that one final line you had established you would never ever cross.

And later, as you lay there with him, tangled up on the couch, his fingers drawing lazy circles into your shoulder, you had never felt more alive, more in love, or more guilty, all at the same time.

It was another 2 months before you realized that it had to stop. Everything.

Ever since that night, when you’d crossed the forbidden line and ended up sleeping with him, nothing had been the same for you. You still loved him, you loved him so much it hurt, but you couldn’t carry on like this in secret, breaking Alex’s heart without him even knowing it.

The guilt was going to kill you.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, one night at Chanyeol’s studio, the place that had almost become a second home to you by now.

Chanyeol nodded, clenching his fists. “I love you, so much,” you said. “But I want to love you properly—not like this. Hiding, lying; the constant fucking guilt that eats at me every single day...it’s too much,” you said shakily, a silent tear dripping down your cheek.

Chanyeol was silent as you gently took his hand. “We have to tell them the truth,” you said, biting your lip.

Chanyeol’s eyes widened, “I’m going to tell Alex the truth,” you said again, wiping the tears from your face. “And I’m going to tell him that it’s over, that it’s not going to happen again.”

Chanyeol ripped his hand away from yours. “You want to throw this all away?” he asked, his voice shaking. “You want to throw this away for a marriage that’s already far past saving? There’s no hope for us anymore, Y/N, there’s no hope for our goddamn marriages. You can’t fix what’s already broken,” he said.

You knew it was true. 

But you knew what had to be done. “I don’t want to break any hearts,” you whispered. “Please understand, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol looked away, his eyes glistening with angry tears. “You already have. You’ve broken mine.”

You couldn’t tell him you’d broken yours, too. Beyond repair. 

With one last lingering kiss, you said goodbye. 

Nothing had ever hurt as much as seeing the dejection on his face as you left him. For what you believed was for good.

1 year later.

You were alone. And not just in the way you’d always thought you’d been.

You’d been lying to yourself, naively thinking that there would have been a tiny chance that Alex would have forgiven you, that he would have taken you back.

Of course he hadn’t. He couldn’t have. The utter look of heartbreak and betrayal in his eyes had made it clear enough. He’d asked you to leave.

The divorce had been finalized 2 months later.

So now you were truly alone, living by yourself. You hadn’t dared to contact Chanyeol, hadn’t even informed him that you were now divorced.

It wasn’t until you saw the news article online that you realized.

Tia Park confirms divorce from husband.

He was just as alone as you were, now. It was what both of you deserved, you thought bitterly. You had only brought it upon yourselves, hadn’t you?

You had dragged two innocent people into your mess, had succeeded breaking not one, not two, but four hearts.

And yours had perhaps broken the most of all. 

But it seemed as though fate had another plan for you and for him. Because impossibly, you met him again. 

Running late to work, barely looking up to see where you were going, bumping right into the chest of a tall, lean man with dark hair falling over his eyes.

He took your breath away all over again. “Mind watching where you’re going?” Chanyeol asked, raising his eyebrows.

You couldn’t even reply, too overwhelmed to have him in front of you, after having imagined this moment a countless times in your head.

You ended up going for a coffee.

“I’ve thought about you every single night for the past year,” he said suddenly. “I tried not to. But I couldn’t help it. I thought I would never see you again.”

You swallowed. “I got a divorce,” you said slowly. “Alex left me.”

Chanyeol nodded, looking away. “So now we’re both leading half-lives.”

You laughed despite yourself. “That’s a funny way to put it. A half-life. But it’s pretty accurate. I only feel half-alive everyday.”

“Sounds like you need some help fixing that” said Chanyeol, his lips perking into a slight smile. 

You bit your lip. “What if I say yes?” you asked, mirroring what he’d said to you, all those months ago.

“Then I’ll help you,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes filled with an unspoken hope. “And you can help me. Let’s fix our lives, shall we? Together.”

You let out a breath.

“Together.”

And maybe, just maybe, this time, it would all turn out alright.

A/N: And that’s another monster of a fic done...bit of a taboo issue being dealt with, huh? As always, leave me your thoughts! x