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clubdionysus · 7 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #9] White

warnings: birdie time he he. honestly just very wholesome all round, but the embers are burningggg, they’re very wet! fantastic! (1) mention of Hang Sơn Đoòng (worlds biggest cave).

soundtrack: lemon - loco, hwasa; safety zone - j-hope

wc: 6k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist

It's mid-morning the following Monday when Jeongguk's message lands in your inbox. The sky is free of clouds, sun beating down on the windows of the subway carriage you're in. It's above ground, crossing the river.

Summer is reaching the end of its peak, but monsoons are still a looming threat. There have been weather warnings all month, but today seems okay. You've an umbrella tucked into your tote just in case, legs crossed as you flick through your notifications on the subway.

Three unread messages sit pretty at the top of your inbox.

Jeongguk: Still on for today?

Danbi: u, me, ryan reynolds in lycra, tonight. game?

Seokjin: such a tease, you know i love those shorts on you - if memory serves me correctly they were off far more than they were on whenever you wore them ;) you around tonight?

Jeongguk is probably the only one who needs a reply, and yet you can't help but stare at Seokjin's message for a little longer than you should.

If Danbi knew you were texting him, she'd probably confiscate your phone, like your parents used to do during your teen years. Jeongguk would probably throw all your stupid little origami birds at you. Would hope you'd get a paper cut.

It'd be deserved, you think.

Jeongguk had wasted his entire Sunday on you as a result of Seokjin's carelessness. You didn't leave until Jimin had taken a nap on the couch at just gone six, your day full of mindless chatter and harmless distractions from Seokjin. It had been nice. Comforting.

And yet when you'd arrived home, a text had been waiting from Seokjin:

heyyy, sorry I had to rush off. didn't wanna wake you. you looked toooo cute. was so nice to see you again.

It's kind of embarrassing, the way your heart seemed to settle at the sight of it; like things were as they should be once more.

You told yourself that Seokjin hadn't meant to upset you. That it was all a big misunderstanding.

He said everything you wanted him to in that message. Said sorry. Maybe he didn't give you an excuse nor an explanation, but he did give you a compliment, and that had you giggling.

Had you thinking that maybe you'd been reactive, and were too highly strung. Perhaps he was never the issue. What if it was you?

Still, it's Jeongguk's message thread you tap through to instead - yeah, just on the subway now! we're still meeting there?

You contemplate whether or not you want to tell him that you've spoken to Seokjin later. He'll no doubt ask about him, with a sneer on his lips, nose upturned at the mere thought of him.

And so naturally, you know you'll lie. "No. Not heard from him."

It's not that you want to be dishonest. Not in the slightest.

You're no stranger to a white lie or two, but Jeongguk had scooped up all of your broken pieces in the early hours of yesterday morning, and tried to washi tape them back together - only for you to run straight back to the person holding a sledgehammer.

You don't want to be reckless with the care Jeongguk's afforded to you; it's just that while Jin's got a sledgehammer in one hand, it also looks like he's got super glue in the other. It's a little bit stronger than washi tape.

Especially Jeongguk's rolls of washi tape; which are the entire reason why you're spending your day off on the subway, and not tucked up in bed, instead.

Jeongguk had devised a plan following the fall of your origami bird, but had neglected to tell you exactly what that plan was.

Had said "look, I won't lie - I can't help you with this. Gimmie the evening to think of a plan, though? I'll text you later."

He'd texted you an address by the time you'd arrived home. Told you not to search it up; said he'd meet you there at midday. Kind of felt like a challenge, and you don't like losing - so you'd done as he'd said. Other than putting the address into Naver maps to find the route, you were none the wiser as to where you were headed.

The subway leads you to the outskirts of town. Down by the river, just a little further up from the arboretum you always tell yourself you should visit more often. You're local to the city, but it's so vast that there are still areas you aren't too familiar with. This is one of them. You know what's in the general area - the arboretum, an old water park, and some museums, but you've no idea what the exact address could be.

As you climb the stairs, you're regretful of the fact you actually listened to Jeongguk. Should have looked up the address beforehand. Seen what was about; what dress code would have been appropriate.

Denim shorts hug your curves, and a little white blouse sits prettily on your shoulders. You're making the most of the summer while it lasts; skin exposed, despite the judgement thrown your way by the ajummas you pass on the street.

A mirror selfie had been sent to Seokjin before you'd left the house, in reply to his collarbone-wielding, broad shoulder-baring bed selfie. His hair had been messy, and there was a little pink mark on his neck. You're pretty sure you left it there. Didn't wanna focus on it for too long just in case you realised that you... didn't.

There had been a little tactful positioning of your phone in front of your face when you took your photo. Had been covering your eyes. Hiding the glitter.

And it's funny, 'cause it's the first thing that Jeongguk notices when he spots you.

You're looking around, realising exactly where you are, a frown slowly forming. He'd expected nothing less. You always arrive with a small frown whenever he's around - but he also always manages to get you beaming, too. It's part of the charm that comes with being around Jeongguk. Bad moods dissolve into nothingness.

He smiles, just like he always does. Waves. Throws you not one, but two peace signs. His thin lips plumpen into a pout as he wiggles his shoulders, the ease of acting childishly coming naturally when he's around you.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He glows as if he hadn't seen you less than twenty-four hours ago.

Strolling towards you, he ignores the slight scowl that's resting on your neat brows. Just continues smiling. All doe-eyed and dainty. Hopes you won't be able to resist breaking into a smile, too.

He likes your glitter today. It's just in the corners of your eyes. Thinks you look like a fairy.

"I'm wearing white!" is all you can say, a little exasperation clouding your words, before laughter begins to tumble from your lips whether you want it to or not. "You asshole! You should have warned me!"

Jeongguk's wearing all black. A pair of shorts, a long sleeve swimming shirt and one of his many oversized black t-shirts over the top. See, he's dressed according to his plans - the plans that he neglected to share with you.

But he's a man. How much can you really expect from him? You doubt he's ever had to run home in the middle of a thunderstorm with his arms crossed over his chest to protect his modesty. Doubt his eyes have ever felt the unwelcome intrusion of sodden mascara running into them.

"Oh, chill out, Disco Ball," he banters, rolling his eyes as he twiddles his lip ring with his tongue. He comes to a stop in front of you. Pouts. Pushes his lips to the side, and his cheek slowly rises like a freshly baked loaf of bread. "It's only a little water. Worst comes to the worst, we'll just buy you another shirt."

When Jeongguk says it's only a 'little water,' he's telling a big fat lie.

You're both well aware that 'little' is hardly the appropriate word to use.

Not when you're standing next to the entrance of the largest outdoor waterpark in the city.

You don't want to say definitively, but you think it might be the largest waterpark in the entire district. Biggest you've ever been to, that's for sure, not that you really make a habit of it.

"Look," he says. "You're the one who wrote the bird, not me. Blame yourself."

"And you're the one who didn't give me a dress code," you reply with a small scoff. He's unbelievable.

It's not like he was ever supposed to see your birds. Your intention had only ever been for the pair of you to vent out your frustration; to see them in black and white and maybe colour them in.

"You could have just looked at Naver. Seen where you were going."

"You told me not to!"

Jeongguk smirks to himself, a little pleased with how much you seem to have blindly trusted him. He also thinks it's incredibly foolish, and adds it to his list of things he needs to worry about in the future. While it's him that you're mindlessly following the orders of, it's okay, he supposes. Knows you're safe. Nothing to worry about right now.

"You'll be fine, Byeol," he says, hooking an arm around your neck, rubbing his knuckles against the crown of your head. You don't even bother to scramble away, sensing his grip tighten when your back edges out from his grasp. With arms like his, you're ensnared whether you like it or not. "You bring your bird?"

He keeps his arm locked around your neck, resting on your shoulders, but stands a little straighter as you head in direction of the waterpark. His relaxed posture allows you to rummage around in your tote bag for the small piece of folded paper. It's in the bottom, a little crumpled, but still quite clearly in bird form.

Jeongguk pinches it from you as soon as you retrieve it, not seeming to care much for the fact that it's your bird. You're locked in by his arms as he strengthens some of the creases that have fallen lax thanks to the lack of attention you'd been paying when you tossed it into the bag.

"You're gonna give yourself bad bird luck," he tells you. "Gotta preserve them, Byeol, or otherwise you'll never overcome your fears."

"I'm not really sure we'll be overcoming any fears today," you mutter in response.

He takes great offence to this. Tells you to 'stop being a negative Nancy', and that 'you'll never overcome your fears with an attitude like that'. You pinch him through his shirt. He recoils away from you, finally giving you a little room to breathe.

And then he calls you a goblin.

"That's rich," you snort, peering into your bag once again to get your wallet, shooing his hands away as he brings out his own wallet from his shorts pocket. "Nah, this is on me. My fear. I'll pay."

There's an attempt from him to protest, but you just tell the cashier you're paying for two, and there's very little he can do about it. He feels bad. This is, after all, his idea. He gave you no wiggle room. You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him.

A bathroom? Maybe.

But not here.

"Absolutely not," you had exclaimed yesterday afternoon after reading the bird. Jeongguk couldn't stop laughing. "Stop! You'll give me a complex."

He hadn't meant to find it so funny - he was just taken by surprise. It's a reflex.

"No, no," he cooed. "It's cute. Really sweet, actually. Should have told me last night. Could have actually done something about it."

It was at that point that you flicked him on the forehead. Told him to go touch some grass. Get his head out of his ass.

And then, finally, you told him, "You're never showering with me."

In typical Jeongguk fashion, he'd just smirked. Found your defensiveness funny. "And nor is anyone else, apparently."

The bird resting on Jeongguk's stomach was laying flat, open on your words:

SHOWER WITH SOMEONE ELSE.

He thinks it's the all caps that cracked him up so much. So aggressive. So cute. A bit like you.

Showers had been one of your favourite forms of intimacy during past relationships. You'd even found it fun with casual hookups.

But now?

Feels forbidden. Tarnished. Dirty.

It's almost as if someone else running their hands over your skin beneath the water will rid you of the stain that Seokjin left - and if you're not his, whose are you?

It's stupid because you don't belong to anyone but yourself. You'd spent months resenting the removal of your identity, but now that you have the chance to reclaim it, you're still letting his mark remain.

You had told Jeongguk later that afternoon - with absolute certainty - that he'd never be facing that fear with you, only for him to say, "it doesn't have to be that big of a deal. I'll prove it to you."

And now he's trying to do exactly that.

He leads as you follow and make your way into the park. It's been a fair few years since your last visit, but it always looks the same; paint work a little tatty, white watermarks tarnishing pipes, and slightly dated equipment available for hire. In fact, you think the inflatables sitting pretty and ready for renting might be the same ones you used as a child on family trips.

"Still don't understand how on earth this is supposed to help me with my fear of intimacy," you speak softly once Jeongguk is done telling you about the tallest waterslide in the world. It's in Brazil, and he insists that he doesn't understand why on earth they called it Kilimanjaro when it's not even remotely close in height nor geographical location.

You tell him he's pedantic and he smiles as if you've just given him a gold star.

"It's helping because we're making it less scary," Jeongguk states all very plainly. Seems simple to him. His logical mind leaps from A to B, while yours is still spiralling round and round like a hula-hoop. "What do you do in the shower?"

"When I'm with someone else?" You raise a brow. "Not sure I want to say it out loud in a kid's waterpark."

"Oh, ew, no, not that part. I mean the basics," he sighs, before choosing just to answer for you. "You get wet. That's the first hurdle."

"Gguk, that's barely even the first meter," you counter. "And after that? There's still a billion hurdles left to jump."

"Well, you have to start somewhere, don't you?" He nudges his shoulder against yours, before spotting the concessions store up ahead. "See. Told you you'd be able to buy a shirt. Here."

He hands you his wallet, only for you to pass it right back.

"It's good, I'll get it."

"I dragged you here."

"And I'm the one who made that stupid bird," you laugh. "It's fine. Tell you what though, if they only have ugly shirts, you're gonna have to get one too. Can't be doing this alone."

"Watcha mean?"

"Well look at you," you shrug, as if it's plainly obvious. "You're in all black and - not that I agree with this, but - I'm sure some people will find you 'okay' looking. You know all the yummy mummies are gonna be swooning over you instead of looking after their kids."

"Swooning?" He grins with a small chortle. "Are you trying to insinuate something, Byeol?"

You gasp, and take a step away from him. "Are you saying I look like a mother?"

This, he decides rather quickly, is dangerous. You almost sound like you're flirting. It's not that he doesn't enjoy it, just that he knows he shouldn't indulge himself and yet-

"Maybe I'm into MILFs."

You've a remarkably good poker face. He can't tell if you're actually annoyed, until you look at him with a small smile. It's hidden by the sultry, tempestuous expression you're throwing his way, but definitely still there.

"So first I'm a mother, and now you wanna fuck me? Well, aren't you full of surprises?"

If there's one thing Jeongguk enjoys, it's a girl who knows how to twist words. Regretfully, it always gets him thinking about other ways they could twist their tongues. The thoughts are unsavoury. Sordid. Lewd.

But you're you.

You're off-limits, and he knows better than to play with fire. He needs to get you wet.

Just, like, not in that way.

"I'll put you under that fountain if you don't stop twisting my words," he asserts as you walk through the park. To your right is a pool, with bright slides twisting in all directions around it. Families play, and laughter prevails. It's nice.

To your left is a row of spouting fountains for kids to run through, water pitter-pattering against the warm concrete floor. They're tall enough that even Jeongguk could stand beneath them without issue. You always think they look like reverse umbrellas; water pouring where protection should be.

Puddles of water interrupt the walkway, but neither of you care all that much.

"Maybe if you got your head out your ass and stopped flirting-"

"Not flirting."

You scoff as sarcasm wraps itself around your words. "Yeah, and I'm a MILF."

He pauses. Stops walking. Laughs.

"Right," Jeongguk says. "That's it."

It's said in a tone so light and airy that you almost don't realise he's wrapping his arms around you with a grip tight enough to crack a rib. Your playful shrieks are ignored by other park visitors, chalked up to you being a pair of young lovers enjoying the frivolity of a waterpark together.

"I'm in white!" is your final cry before he pulls you under the cascade of a fountain with him.

The worst part of it, you think, is how goddamn happy he sounds, laughing at your misery.

"And I told you to stop twisting my words, Byeol," he says like the bastard he is, while you struggle against him again. Finally releasing you, he keeps a clasp on your wrists to prevent you from straying. "You made your choice."

"I made no such thing," you wail, but the stream of water has you spluttering - and then you're laughing.

Laughing just like he is; like how you imagine Galileo would have laughed when he first pointed his telescope skyward, and saw the rings of Saturn. It's unadulterated. Blissful. Pure.

Jeongguk loosens his grip on your wrists. He rests his elbows on your shoulders, using his hands to create a barrier between the stream of water and your eyes. There's glitter on your cheeks, now, forced to part way with your eyes thanks to the water pressure, and Jeongguk finds himself grinning at how you manage to look like a party even in the middle of the day.

Perhaps he's a lot more like Galileo than you first thought. Maybe he's laughing because he's looking at the stars, too.

Water barrels down on the pair of you, soaking your hair, your clothes, your skin. It's heavy, the pressure of the fountain far heavier than a shower, but you suppose the outcome is the same.

You don't want to look at Jeongguk with anything but moderate vexation, and yet there's a fond smile tugging at your lips.

Strands of wet hair stick to his face, droplets catching on his lashes and falling down his cheeks. He shakes like a dog caught out in the rain, only to continue getting drenched because he doesn't move from the fountains trajectory. It'd be so easy for him to just manoeuvre himself out of the fountain's direct line and hold you in place, but he chooses to be caught up in it, too. Chooses to be with you. Experience with you.

You'd done his bird together. Only fair for him to do yours with you.

"You still scared, Byeol?" Jeongguk asks, voice quiet beneath the water pummeling down on you both, and yet it has your attention loud and clear.

You want to banter back, say something that will get tripping on his words just like you seem to be - but the rope tied around your ankles seems to be around your tongue, too. Instead, you just shake your head.

"See," he smiles, now. Pulls a hand away from your forehead to wipe at his. Puts it back. "Are showers really that scary?"

And then you do laugh. "It's not a shower. You know it isn't even close."

His face scrunches, water catching in all of his little ridges.

He'll admit the water is annoying. Keeps having to close his eyes. It's bothersome, and it's not like he even cares for boundaries anymore at this point, so-

Fuck it.

His pinkies are against your forehead, index fingers outward. He lowers his head, mirroring you. Rests his forehead against his index fingers. Swears. Can finally fucking see.

And now that he can?

He's looking at you.

With his head angled to such a degree that your chins couldn't be further apart, you still manage to fool yourself to believe that your lashes could brush.

"It's as close as we'll get to one," he counters. "You are showering with another person."

"I'm under a stream of water with another person."

"And how is that any different to showering with someone?"

He isn't stupid. He knows the answer. Knows that you're pedantic enough to go into all the clauses and stipulations that would ever stop this from being classed as a shower - and so he doesn't let you.

Instead, he pulls away, grabbing your wrist as he does so. Leads you further into the park with a smile so big you're surprised he doesn't dislocate his jaw.

"That's the hard part done," he assures you. "You've had a shower with someone. Say thank you."

There's an acute awareness between you both that he's not helped you to overcome your fear in the slightest - but he does have you laughing as you walk through the park, absolutely sodden, without a single care in the world. You're not even bothered by the fact your black bra is visible through the soaked fabric of your shirt.

See, Jeongguk's gotten you relaxed in a situation when you know you'd typically be frantic. He's taking the pressure off. Got you giggling. Got you facing a fear, even if it's not exactly how he set out to do so, nor the fear in question.

In his defence, he really had thought his contrived little plan would count. He'd have never insisted on actually taking a shower with you. He understands why you consider them so intimate. He does, too. Something about the vulnerability really gets him. It's not even the sex that inevitably comes with one that makes him weak at the knees.

He thinks of the girl who folded paper butterflies for him, and how he'd shampoo her hair, chest pressed to her back, and the fact it was in the confines of his bathroom that he realised he was in love with her.

So, Jeongguk gets it. It's why he wouldn't even consider anything but his dumb little waterpark shower as a remedy of your insecurities. He hopes a lesson is learned even if a fear isn't overcome: you can let down your guard without giving up all of you.

What it comes down to, you think, is that Jeongguk isn't a taker. He's not a giver, either, really - but when your walls start to crack and crumble, he doesn't intrude. Stands at a safe distance. Offer you back your bricks. Most men you knew would see a weakness in your defences and claim what's yours as their own.

He's not always been this way. Used to have a 'what's yours is mine' understanding of his relationships, too.

His butterfly girl had taught him that no, just because he was given temporary access to something didn't mean it was his. He'd learnt the hard way after he'd always swapped his heart with hers, not realising she'd ever want it back.

And so while Jeongguk will never fully understand whatever you went through - not unless you choose to share it with him - he can empathise. Treat you how he wished someone would have treated him while he was still healing.

As the clouds migrate across the sky, fluffy white shapes occasionally hiding the careful watch of the sun, the day rolls into stupid competitions and races down the tallest slides in the park. The reason you'd ended up here doesn't seem to matter.

Jeongguk races you to the top of the slides again, and again, and again, just to try and beat you down them. He never wins.

Not until you hold back by just a millisecond.

It's just enough to give him a slight edge, and have him roaring in victory - "ha! suck it! loser!" - as he slaps at the water, a smile larger than Hang Sơn Đoòng eclipsing any desire you had to win. You'll let him have this one. Let him have one victory.

The haze of late-afternoon sun grazes down on the pair of you, while you lounge by the 'adults-only' pool area. A lot of families have gone home already, but sometimes it's nice to be away from the shrieks of kids messing about in the water.

You're not exactly the maternal type. In fact, Jeongguk's the one who's been pointing out how cute the kids are in their little armbands and sprout hairstyles. He's not wrong. They're incredibly adorable - you're just not that naturally inclined to go 'awww'.

It's all swings and roundabouts, though. Getting away from kids meant being surrounded by, well, some less wholesome auras.

Jeongguk thinks he notices it first; the unwelcome gaze of a middle-aged man. He's felt it for a little while. Upwards of ten minutes. Thinks you're none the wiser. Tries to figure out what's so fucking interesting. Stares him out a little bit - but is ignored.

See, the man - who is probably old enough to be your father - isn't looking at Jeongguk at all. Too busy staring at you, and that shirt of yours which is still yet to dry out. You're on your back, sunning yourself, clothes sodden and sticking to your skin.

Jeongguk thinks you look no different to anyone else in the park. It's typical to wear regular clothes in places like these. Would be more shocking if you were in a bikini. And so while yes, he has noticed the fact your bra is dark, he couldn't tell you the colour because he's been trying not to look. Actively avoiding it, actually.

Annoyance isn't something that Jeongguk's ever been able to hide well.

As he sucks in a little bit of air between his teeth and mutters a small curse to himself, you glance over.

"Hmm?" you ask.

It's not like you don't know the man's staring. You had warned Jeongguk about your attire earlier. Was always gonna happen. He just hadn't realised that this was the reason why you'd been so insistent about the fact he was an asshole for not giving you a dress code.

Realistically, you could have bought a second shirt - but the pair of you got distracted. Didn't care so much when you were laughing and joking about how you both look like rats with your hair all wet.

"Here," he says, tugging on his shirt at the nape of his neck. There's resistance, the weight of the water dragging against his skin, but he pays it no mind as he pulls the shirt over his head. You're still laying down on your back, and turn onto your front with a small grin.

"Y'know if I really was all that bothered, I'd just do this," you say, talking about your change in position. It's not that you want the man to stare - you just know he will regardless. Know that your shorts have ridden up a little, and so he's getting a whole new type of show.

Jeongguk doesn't laugh. Smiles, but doesn't let it reach his eyes. Leans over and drapes the fabric of his shirt over the top of your legs. Over your ass. "You'll burn."

"I'm wearing suncream," you purr, knowing that this has nothing to do with keeping your skin safe.

And so Jeongguk just shrugs. Considers staying silent. Chooses not to.

"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he almost growls beneath his breath, feigning indifference through his body language. "But I don't."

"You saying you can't help yourself?" You tease, to which he just rolls his eyes and lays back down.

"I can help myself perfectly well," he says, tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek. "Just didn't finish my sentence."

"Oh?" you chirp with great curiosity.

There's a boldness to the way you're engaging in conversation with him. Makes you realise that Jeongguk is just the same as any other boy. He can see you as a sexual object, apparently. Just chooses not to. It's all very interesting.

"He might wanna stare, Byeol," he repeats, crossing his arms over his torso, a defensiveness to his posture, even when he's flat on his back. "But I don't want him to."

Though his eyes remain closed, Jeongguk can hear you move to sit on your knees.

Your back is to the sleazebag, Jeongguk shirt bunching by your heels. You pull it around and bundle it in your lap, mouth resting open in a slight stare of shock.

Unspoken words beg for him to look at you.

But he doesn't. Keeps his eyes firmly shut. Grins. Just says, "Lie back down, Byeol."

The worst part is that you want to. You really do. When his voice is that low, the look on his face that cocky, you want to fold like a sheet of fucking origami paper. Have him bending you about like one of those damn birds.

But then you take a second to think, and realise you're no better than that guy who is still staring at you so intensely you're surprised he doesn't burst a blood vessel. Makes you feel bad. Guilty.

So instead you toss Jeongguk his shirt back and, as you stand, say, "I've a fear of intimacy, Jeongguk. No fear in telling men to fuck off."

He's not surprised by your response. Quite amused by it. Sits up on his elbows. Watches with curiosity as you walk away from him - and then is stunned to see you beeline for the man.

It's the kind of thing he'd see in a movie, background characters slowing to a stop, time ceasing to move except for the leading lady.

And then you're pointing. Accusing. Jeongguk's not sure of what - he can't hear you from this far away - but he knows it isn't nice. Watches the blood drain from the man's face. He's ghostly. And then it all returns, red and raw, with such a vengeance he's surprised blood doesn't start leaking from his nose.

When you turn on your heel, Jeongguk observes with morbid novelty at the scene unfolding; the intense shame on the man's face and the pure brilliance on yours.

"Men," you sigh, as you sit back down next to him. Mirroring his position, you're up on your elbows until you casually let yourself fall back into your original position. "Sorry, where were we? You told me to lie down? Done."

Jeongguk doesn't say anything. Just grins. Collapses back down, too. Doesn't tell you to cover up. Knows better.

Doesn't shut up about it for the rest of the day, though.

Relays the story to you as if you weren't there - weren't central to it - with so much animation that you think he might turn into a cartoon on the subway home.

He's still talking about it between the part where he invites you back for dinner - "Jimin's gonna be in but it's cool. We haven't eaten all day, you must be starving." - and the part where he stands by your door, taking a whole twenty minutes to say goodbye.

You've declined the offer. Told him it'd be a bit weird seeing Jimin. Wouldn't know how to explain it. Jeongguk just says "of course, yeah, you're right. Didn't even think of that. My bad."

There's a little silence afterwards. You know why. It's rejection. Not romantic, nor for anything serious, but it's still the same difference. He'd spent the day trying to help you break down walls only for you to put your bricks on top of his.

It's as he's heading down your stairs (after his fifteenth and final 'bye') that you realise how rude you've been. Just 'cause you wouldn't feel entirely welcome at his doesn't mean he's not welcome at yours.

"Hey, wait a sec! Danbi's home, but do you wanna eat here?" You chance. "We don't have much in, but I can order or we can-"

"My God, I thought you'd never ask," he grins immediately turning on his heel and back towards you. "So hungry I might die."

"You won't."

"I could."

The pair of you bicker as you enter your apartment, Danbi glancing up from the sofa. She looks at you, then looks at Jeongguk, and takes a second to place his face. Definitely knows it - and then it clicks.

She considers asking why the fuck your favourite barman is following you in. He's known within the confines of your apartment as the Barman That Smiles (more commonly referred to as BTS boy), Jeongguk's name a secret just for you to know. Danbi doesn't realise all of those nights you waste are the bar are wasted on him, nor does she realise he's the reason you snuck off the other night.

What she does wonder, however, is if this is all part of your master-get-revenge-on-Seokjin-plan.

Instead of voicing any of these queries, she settles on "what are we having for dinner?"

You shrug. "Ask Jeongguk. He's paying."

He raises a brow as if to question your assertion - only for him to cough up the bill for the pizza delivery that feeds the three of you through a Deadpool rewatch.

When he leaves, Danbi tells him he has to come back next week for Deadpool 2. You grin as you walk him out.

"She just wants you to pay for more food," you tell and he nods. Says he knows.

But then he calls back over to Danbi, "See you next week."

She does a little cheer, and it's all very sweet. They get on well. His humour is welcome in your apartment, and so is his presence. Danbi also hopes it means she'll get more free drinks next time she's at the club.

"She'll play you like a damn fiddle if you let her," you warn just out of her earshot.

"Good," he grins. "We can double date with you and Jimin."

You tell him to fuck off - but also insist that he lets you know when he gets home. The way you care about him is so casual that it feels as if it's been this way for years.

As he heads on home, Jeongguk kind of hopes it will be. Hopes it's the kind of friendship that stands the test of time. Worries that he shouldn't take the flirting too far - but then he's distracted by the little fleck of glitter on the top of his hand. His thoughts are lost, a smile unwinding on his lips as he strolls back to his place.

The skies are void of stars tonight, and yet, for the first time in months, Jeongguk's eyes are full of them.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

#by holly #jk #jeongguk fanfic #jungkook fanfic #Jungkook Fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook ff #jeongguk fic #bartender!jungkook #BD #bad decisions #bangtan #bts fanfic #dappleddaisies

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all-things-fic · 5 years ago

Text

Quarantine Begins At Home

A/N: Hi everyone, its been a long time since I’ve done one of these authors note thingys.

I know it may sound silly but I wanted to put a bit of a disclaimer in my authors note. This piece of writing is by no means encouraging people to start getting close to each other, please make sure you are social distancing and please wash your bloody hands. This is purely a way to give some of you who are in quarantine (which by now seems to be all of us) some light relief. Everyone stay safe and look after yourselves!

Please enjoy for simple entertainment and of course let me know what you think. Looking forward to hearing what you have to say for yourselves! I’m not going to hide my phone so I don’t obsess over notifications because I’m rubbish at releasing any of my writing into the wild.

P.S. praise Beauty Papers for bringing out that one picture of Harry where he’s in his undies and socks and TPWK tee. You fed this fic. .x

***

The niggly cough that you’d been showcasing over the last three days was nothing more than annoying. Topping itself off with a fever that had you sweating unattractively the night before, had left you thinking only one thing.

Quarantine was on the horizon.

When you’d sat up straight in bed, 3am that morning, sporting a clammy, tackiness to your skin you didn’t even think twice about stripping off your pyjama top before dropping back down into bed.

It had been hard to push away your husband, his own bare chest finding your back as he pulled you towards him. Hands only stilling their actions when you whined into the darkness about how you were ‘too hot for that’.

Harry had chuckled into the back of your head and softly shushed you as you’d let yourself doze back to sleep.

Two nights after, Harry had not so elegantly shook the bed as he kicked the duvet off his body to stop himself from sweating.

“‘S bloody hot in ‘ere, ‘m sweating,” he grumbled, flipping over his pillow so that the cold side could greet his flushed face and offer some sort of relief.

He turned to face you, causing you to ask him to flip back to his previous position because you didn’t want him to breathe on you.

“It’s not you, it’s the carona,” you responded, burrowing down and pulling your blanket over your mouth.

You knew if it wasn’t so dark in the room he would appreciate the cheeky glint in your eye as you stared back at him.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” he groaned, rolling over and pushing his face against the pillow. You rolled your lips into your mouth, suppressing your laughter at how miserable he had become, while he huffed and puffed into his fresh bed-linen.

Lifting your hands from under the confines of your blankets you reached up to gently rub Harry’s back, wanting to provide some form of comfort if you could.

The two of you lay silent and awake in the dark that night. Both sprightly and in your twenties, you knew you didn’t have much to worry about anything, but you had to do your bit.

Isolating yourself was going to be interesting.

***

If you had never felt like you were comfortable around your husband before now - the kind of comfortable that meant you’d leave the bathroom door open as you used the toilet - Harry was doing everything in his power during quarantine to reassure you otherwise.

It was in the comments he made, the way he moved. The kind that should have you wrinkling your nose at him and shaking your head, to tell him to stop. However, now you found yourself taking it all in your stride, often clapping back with a comment that had him chuckling to himself.

“I’ve not changed my pants since Monday,” his deep morning voice broke the sleep filled silence as you both lay in bed.

“Makes a change that you’re actually wearing them,” you mumbled back, weirdly not bothered at the filthy habit your husband had just revealled while you entered another day of being cooped up.

“It’s not usually a problem,” he spoke, dropping his eyes down to look at you, as you pressed your head closer to his lips accepting the fleeting kiss he left in you hair.

“Surprised you even know what day it is-“

“Been crossing the days off the kitchen calendar.”

He was proud of himself for that one. For helping the two of you not enter that weird period that was usually only experienced during Christmas and New Year. Where no one knows what day of the week it is; AM and PM blending together.

Naps became scheduled parts of the day, and arguably the most important part to aid avoiding grouchy backbiting comments bubbling simply from being around each other for a little more than was bearable. Everyday was becoming more and more like a Sunday.

“Wondered why the calendar was a day out?”

“What’d you mean?”

The offence lacing his question caused you to bite away your smile as you continued to aimlessly scroll through Instagram. “Dates have been crossed off one day out, you crossed out Wednesday yesterday when it’s in fact Wednesday today.”

There was a small amount of silence in the room as your words resonated with Harry.

“Bollocks.”

You muffled your chuckle by pressing your lips into Harry’s forearm that was nestled securely around your shoulder and across your chest.

“The thought was there, darling. It is appreciated. Thank you,” you whispered after leaving a chaste kiss against his skin once more. You took great delight in feeling the downy hair of his arm pressed to your lips.

As your eyes remained on the screen of your phone, you watched the 45836 quarantine meme on your timeline cut away from Instagram to an incoming FaceTime from your mother-in-law.

“Harry,” you hummed, hearing him barely respond with his own steady grunt of acknowledgment. “Why’s your Mum FaceTiming me?”

“I dunno-“ he cut off, pressing his face to uncomfortably rest into your hair. “Quick, answer before it cuts off-“

“We’re in bed-“

Moving the fastest he had all day, you couldn’t even comprehend that Harry had accepted the call before a crackle of sound and another environment was heard through your phone speaker.

“He’s alive then,” Anne immediately spoke the minute her FaceTime screen had cleared from a blurry pixelated mess. “Yes, you young man. Trying to hide your face into your wife’s hair, like you know she’ll take your flack for you.”

You found yourself sinking further underneath your duvet as you watched Anne address Harry through the phone. Her tone was clearly abrasive but more so out of worry.

“You know I’ve been calling you,” she continued, pausing. “You needn’t look at me like that from the corner of your eye, Harry. Have you got food in your house?“

“We’re okay for food, Anne,” you acknowledged her, watching the way her eyes looked to your left, her stare holding on her youngest. As she blinked she turned to face you, her face softening.

“Even better for loo roll,” Harry sarcastically quipped.

Again, Anne’s eyes hardened as she skimmed them over her son’s less than impressed expression.

“Put your face straight,” she sharply spoke. “What about protection?”

“‘Fucksake pass me tha’ phone ‘ere,” he groaned, rolling around to sit up in bed and take the phone away from you. You did nothing to fight him, slightly embarrassed at the insinuation and the current place in your house where Anne had caught you both.

Pulling at his joggers that sat low against his hips, Harry held the phone up so that his mother was no longer seeing the sweaty palm of his hand and then a quick glimpse of an unmade bed.

When her image graced his vision he noticed the way she was smiling, her face almost split in two before she sipped at her cup of tea. His eyes took in the garden behind her, one that he knew well and he knew she’d be enjoying her brunch on the nice spring day that awaited those who needed to do a quick top-up shop at their local supermarket, feel brave enough to pop outside.

Shaking his head, he raised his eyebrows at his Mum who seemed awfully pleased with herself.

“Had yer fun now, I’m up. You’ve succeeded.”

“It’s bloody midday,” she chastised.

“Had a late night, didn’t we?,” he glanced over at you, watching the way your eyes almost popped out at his suggestive comment.

“Tell you what, this quarantine‘s gonna have a lot to answer for,” Anne started, her voice light. “Isn’t that right, Evie?” She spoke, the visual that greeted Harry being one of his mother softly showering his cat with love and affection. “‘S Daddy forgetting about you already? You made him a Daddy first isn’t that right?”

“Mum,” Harry’s tone was set as he stressed how he addressed Anne, willing her to stop her playful jibing at his expense.

“‘M telling you, sweetheart. Baby boom is impending,” again Anne raised her eyebrows. All Harry could do was chuckle at how invested his Mum appeared to be in wanting to become a Grandmother.

“Anyway,” she grabbed Harry’s attention again, as he bounced his way down the stairs of his home and padded his socked feet along his wooden floors. “Are you showering?”

“‘M not a bloody sloth-“

“It’s midday and you’ve only just left your pit.”

He didn’t have a leg to stand on. You smiled as you heard their interaction, having been hot on Harry’s tails. As you relaxed against the doorframe of your kitchen, you heard Anne’s chuckling to herself before she next spoke.

“Could do with a shave.”

“Anything else I’m not doing right?”

Pushing up off the doorframe, you found yourself drawn to Harry. Hand rubbing up his clothed back and shoulders, you rubbed at them gently and pushed your face into the frame.

“No, the beard can stay,” you turned to Harry, jokingly squeezing at his jaw and cheeks with your right hand solely, before you mischievously tapped his cheek and turned your attention to putting on your kitchen stove.

“The wife says no,” he jutted out his bottom lip in a challenge to his Mum.

“Not just the cat he’s replacing, Anne-“

Anne’s boisterous laugh filled your kitchen at your comment and it warmed you as you caught the way it had Harry softly laughing to. His body relaxing and bending down so his elbow rested against the kitchen counter, chin leaning against his palm.

“There’s enough of me to go around,” he breathed out, cheekily looking at you from the corner of his eye. You loved the way his cheeks had started to softly glow with an endearing blush.

“You do look healthy, love,”

Just like that, gone was the cheeky smile, the glowing eyes. They were quick to be replaced by a light frown and slightly offended expression, “‘s tha’ s’pose to mean?”

“It’s only quarantine weight, nothing he can’t get rid of,” you said, leaning back into the frame and goadingly patting against Harry's little pot-belly that slightly stuck out against his t-shirt. “Can’t be having anyone else fancying him now, can I Anne?”

Again Anne laughed, eyes glittering through the screen as she watched the way the two of you interacted. It was clear that this conversation was something she definitely needed having been holed up in her abode by herself.

Harry squinted his eyes suspiciously at you, before sharply looking at his Mum. “Oh, I see how it is,” he started with a soft nod. “The two of you ganging up on me, ‘s fine I’m a big boy.”

“The stretch waistband on your joggers agrees,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows before addressing Anne off screen. “We call this his quarantine outfit.”

“I tell you what, ‘s a good job you haven’t got to pour yourself into those skinny jeans anymore cause that would be a-“

You feel him staring at you, causing your voice to trail off. “No carry on, dares ya,” he drawled. He saw the way you opened your mouth to continue, nostrils flaring as you took a deep breath and looked at him with an amused expression.

“I-“

Harry darted at you as your voice caught in your throat, the loudest squeal leaving your lips as your phone clattered face down to the marble of you kitchen counter and gave Anne nothing more than the visual of a black screen framed by gleeful noises of a blissfully newlywed couple.

***

Quarantine is all fun and games until your husband of sixty-seven days decides he wants to put together the coffee table that you’d been gifted from a member of your wedding party.

You knew Harry was becoming ansty as you entered day nine of your self-isolation. His fingers and thumbs too twitchy for his own good. You felt the same but by giving yourself a little list of tasks such as changing your bedding every couple of days, you’d managed to find a way to keep yourself busy enough. Between that, reading and scrolling mindlessly through social media, you were doing okay. Or so you thought.

There was something about men and DIY. They all liked to think they were good at it. Especially when they’re looking for something to do. And while they groan when asked about doing the jobs around the house, there was surely an element of pleasure found in the most menial of tasks (more so in the current climate) and a smugness in being needed.

Everything had started out well. Harry had made you snort your laughter at how he’d flamboyantly pulled open the box of the flat-pack furniture in the middle of your living room.

Everything had been neatly wrapped in plastic, and while not ideal for the planet it was ideal for your pleasure of having everything organised.

Sat cross-legged on the floor, in nothing more than a pair of underpants, socks and a t-shirt, Harry eagerly flipped through the white paper instructions.

You smiled to yourself when you saw him trying to decipher the Italian instructions, knowing just how adamant he was about ensuring he kept his mind active during quarantine and that he made it so he had used the time wisely and learned a new skill.

“Think an awful lot of yourself, don’t you?” you teased, watching his gaze slowly lift and look at you through the hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Just read the English instructions, Harry.”

He smirked, dropping his eyes back down to the Italian instructions and ignoring your plea.

“Thought you were supportive of my challenge of becoming a bilingual king,” he spoke sarcastically, tone set as he set his brow and really tried to concentrate on the drawings.

“But then that means I have to become a bilingual queen, and we all know that wouldn’t be a pretty sight.”

Harry laughed, reaching forward for one of the items he was looking for, scrutinising it by moving it around in his hands before placing it back down onto the floor.

“Could always just look at the pictures, love?”

“Pardon,” you spoke, rolling your head to look at him from where you lay along the couch, with eyes wider than usual at his brazen cheek. He didn’t reply, instead he shook his head while wearing the most amused expression you’d seen since the start of your quarantine.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached for a throw cushion from the sofa and threw it at him, the item hitting Harry not so elegantly against the shoulder as he leaned over to check he had the other parts required to complete the furniture assembly.

He, of course, took it in his stride, grabbing at the cushion and sitting on it. “Thanks for that, darling. Arse would go numb otherwise.”

“You’re squishing my favourite throw pillow-“

“Took the name quite literally then,” he spoke with a tight voice as he raised himself up onto his knees and crawled across the rug underneath him. “If you don’t mind, I’m doing manly things over ‘ere.”

Instead of responding you turned on your side and buried your left cheek into another cushion. Seeing Harry so concentrated but messy had been one of the things you’d enjoyed the most about your time being holed up together.

He had absolutely let himself go but loved every minute of doing so. His hair hadn’t been styled once since the two of you had shut up shop to recuperate. His clothes, of which he appeared to be wearing less and less as the days went by, were more high street special than couture runway.

He’d never looked more attractive. Honestly.

“Are you going to lie there and watch me, or are yer gonna help?”

Again his question was concentrated, his hands and eyes preoccupied.

“Thought you liked being in control, doin’ all the work-“

He side-eyed you, his lips twitching up into a sly smile. “Need reminding, ‘s tha’ it?”

“What I need is,” you paused, watching the way he kept his eyes on you. “What I need is for you to put up our coffee table.”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“Like you’re staring at a bunch of parts-“

“‘S the instructions, not me!”

You stared at him as he laughed around his exclaimed words. Swinging your legs, you forced yourself to sit up and saw the way Harry moved slightly back to give you more space. “That’s it, gimme the bloody instructions, let’s have a look at these pictures.”

Somewhere amongst the friendly bickering you managed to help him sort out all the parts and count out all the screws just to make sure he had everything he needed.

When you’d seen that he had laid everything out that he required, you pushed yourself up from the floor where you had placed yourself opposite Harry.

“Fancy a cuppa for your efforts?”

Scratching at the back of his head, he looked at you. “Not done much,” he scrunched his nose. “Could you grab me a water?”

You nodded, leaning down to press your lips to his. He hummed, happy, as you pulled away and offered him a series of soft pecks. “‘S nice,” he whispered.

“I am nice,” you confirmed. “I’ll grab a screwdriver or two from the garage, in case the allen keys don’t cut it.”

His laugh was a knowing one as you walked away and heard the first expletive leave Harry’s lips when he reached for the first part of the furniture to piece together. “‘S not lining up wi’the hole,” he shouted through from the lounge to the kitchen at you.

You chuckled under your breath shaking your head before he shouted again, “‘s not what it sounds like!”

That caused you to bark a laugh. It was going to be a long afternoon.

***

You weren’t quite sure where it had all gone wrong. From laughing about awful innuendo, to aggravatedly sighing at each other. Yet, you were there in the thick of it and seemingly very happy to ride the wave.

“This is your fault,” he muttered under his breath, the crackle of the paper as he snatched up the instructions to flick through them one more time bringing nothing more than frustration. You saw the way he slowly retraced his steps and try and figure out where it had gone wrong.

“All I’ve done is pass you things,” you snapped back. “And if you’re gonna blame me at least put some conviction behind it and say it with your whole chest. Don’t be a wuss.”

He grunted at that and if you hadn’t got your head buried into your phone, looking at work emails this time via the Outlook app, you would’ve seen the way he was mocking you and mouthing the words you had just said to him with a less than pleased look on his face.

Harry sat with one coffee table leg to complete, however if his counting was correct he was a screw missing. Probably in more ways than one after this quarantine was over; the same going for you.

“Wanted the coffee table up, continues to sit around and not help,” he spoke his words louder than he had envisaged them in his head, seeing the way your figure shifted on the couch as you heard him loud and clear.

“Thought I told you to stop mumbling under your breath,” you cut your eyes over to him, watching the way he waggled the screwdriver he was using in between his thumb and forefinger lightly.

The item shook and you were about to tell him off like he was your son, rather than your partner, if that screwdriver so much as softly scratched, never mind dented, the oak top of your coffee table.

What was annoying you more was how he was just sitting there. Not so much as moving a muscle and letting his eyes frantically move along the wooden flooring and lounge rugs, just expecting a screw to shine up at him like he was a magpie.

With irrational anger bubbling inside of you, that wouldn’t have existed if you’d decided to sit outside in the garden to do your work rather than watching Harry, you sighed.

“Shift your fat arse,” you said with more bite than you intended.

Harry glared at you, his sharp stare meeting yours dead on in a silent question of ‘what did you just say to me?’

“You heard me,” you answered. “Move yourself!”

The torment in his features as to whether he should remain stubborn and not move, or see where you were going with your harsh vagueness, played across his face.

Ultimately however, he wanted to finish this fucking thing. The one thing he wished he hadn’t started.

Annoyed, he shuffled around so he found himself on his knees. He watched as you pushed yourself off the couch, and peered around his body to take in the space which he had just freed up.

“There. You’re sitting on it!”

Harry’s eyes dropped down at the space behind him, green gaze spotting the tiny silver, bane of his existence, almost instantly. He snatched up the tiny screw that has been underneath his thigh and looked at you with a pointed glare.

“Don’t know why you’re looking at me like that, mate.”

“Don’t ‘mate’ me,” he growled, snatching up the last coffee table leg this time and using the recently found screw to secure it to the table.

Part of you wanted to laugh at the scene in front of you, the two of you facing off but neither of you able to look at the other.

“I’m waiting for my apology,” you said, soft smile hurting your lips, as he continued to fix into place the last piece. You thought your tone was light, as you found humour at how the two of you were easily beginning to get sick of each other now.

“Well, you’re gonna be waiting a long fucking time.”

And just like that he’d sucked away all the humour you’d felt towards the argument, faster than a vacuum cleaner.

“There’s no need to be an arsehole, I was joking-“

“Could’ve fucking fooled me,” he looked up at you, while you watched the way his arm began to tense as he got closer to the end of the screw becoming tight enough.

He was just as tight; a coil ready to spring and pop.

“I can’t reason with you when you’re like this,” you stared at him, as you watched him chuckle with a shake of his head. He didn’t respond, happy to shoulder the blame if it meant he would get you out of his hair and give him a moment of peace.

Instead his eyes were trained on your feet as he watched you walk away. A sense of freedom washing over you both as you did so.

***

You frowned down at the hob of your cooker and watched the way it sparkled up at you. Snatching up the cleaning detergent, you squeezed at the pump and watched the white foamy spray squirt unnecessarily against the already very clean surface.

This was your distraction, while Harry’s was continuing to push his nose into the novel of his choosing as he lay along your couch. You never were really much of a cleaner but quarantine meant that you were living in the same four walls for so long than you’d found even more of a sense of pride over your abode.

Pressing your hands into the kitchen counter, you felt the front of your hair fall messily into your eyes as you took deep breaths. You were more sad than angry now. This weird feeling sitting in your chest that was overriding your sense of thinking rationally.

Why should you apologise? Really. Why?

Why shouldn’t he apologise? Be the bigger person in this whole thing?

Breathing deeply in through your nose, you lifted your eyes up to look at the kettle that sat to you right. Before you even thought about it you flicked your wrist and pressed at the lever of the kettle.

The amber light signified that it was about to boil, the usual crackle following not too long after.

Raising up, you rolled your neck and shoulders, feeling the tension beneath them that would only be alleviated by a massage of some sort. Foot steps heavy as they trudged over to the opposite side of your kitchen to the sink draining rack, your preferred mug was easy to grab.

You hand stilled as you reached for his mug, the sound of a dry cough pushing its way through the tense air from the other room. From the sound of it you knew he hadn’t approached and that he was still in his own brooding state, having taken root along the couch.

Medical professionals had told both you and Harry via telephone that while you were experiencing symptoms of the virus, you were leaning more so to a common cold given the bout of sneezing that had so gracefully taken over you both on day five of being cooped up.

Regardless of not being considered vulnerable the time was still a scary one, and the thought of losing loved ones very much at the front of your mind.

Which is why you should apologise.

You huffed at your conscience, snatching up Harry’s mug and sitting it next to yours. Two tea bags later,steaming hot water and a dash of milk, you took solace in the tinker of the spoon against the ceramic.

Cleaning products tossed aside, hands washed for at least the thirtieth time that day, you curled your fingers around the handles and tip-toed carefully towards your living room

Halting at the edge of the room, you took in Harry’s figure as he lay along the couch. Dressed in nothing more than a t-shirt that read the infamous slogan he was known for, a pair of y-front pants that should be nothing more than repulsive to you and sports socks; he looked comforting even though sulky.

Soft frown etched in between his brows, Harry’s eyes were frantically moving over the pages of the book that had him incredibly engrossed. You watched the way he licked at the middle finger of his right hand and turned the page.

Before you could stop yourself, a tut escaped your lips. He shouldn’t be putting his hands anywhere near his face. When was the last time he’d washed them?

The noise caused Harry to sharply cut his eyes to you, abruptly pulling them from the pages of the paperback and onto your figure. You stood, awkward under his gaze, watching his eyes drop to the two mugs you held.

“Shouldn’t be doing that,” you lazily commented on him licking his fingers. “When did you last sanitise?”

“Please get off my arse,” he deadpanned.

You swallowed harshly, continuing to feel heavier from your previous bicker. You didn’t want this unnecessary animosity to continue at all. He must’ve known that from the way his face softened slightly as he dropped his eyes, that were now not as harsh with their gaze as when he previously looked at you, to the steaming mugs.

“‘S all this,” he hummed. “‘S my mug.”

“It is,” you croaked, acknowledging his obvious statement. “‘S me bringing you a peace offering.”

“Brought any biscuits wi’yer?”

Your lips twitched at his question, offering nothing more than a shake of your head in response.

“‘S no good,” he hummed, eyes turning back to his book as he nudged his body over slightly to create a bigger gap next to him. A gap that looked awfully big enough to hold you.

Feeling brave from his light conversation, you walked closer. The dull thud of the heavy, tea-filled mugs hitting the coffee table that had just three hours earlier caused world war three in the four walls of your home, nervously brought you attention back to the sole reason you weren’t talking.

Over an inanimate object.

Not wanting to push your luck, you slowly let the remaining part of the large couch above Harry’s head swallow you. Mind now no longer engulfed by the worry of confrontation, your senses tuned in to the soft hum of a record playing in the top corner of your lounge and the partially agitated sigh that left Harry’s lips.

You didn’t acknowledge it, choosing to instead blow gently at the warm mug held securely between both your hands. You knew it would be too hot for you to even consider drinking just yet.

Legs curled up underneath and to the side of you, you dropped your neck back slightly to rest against the marshmallow-like cushions and relax.

Finding comfort wasn’t easy, as your space had gotten smaller and smaller as the day went by. Part of you didn’t want it to get bigger though. Being in a bubble could be very pleasing, very pleasing.

Lips twitched up at your thoughts, only deepening when you felt the soft grip of fingertips gently pinching at your calves. The same fingertips then flattened out, smoothing down and around your muscle to lightly tug.

Heavy head slowly lifting up, you took in the sight beneath you. Harry had reached behind him, his right elbow lifted awkwardly into the air as his left arm held his book above his head. His eyes remained trained to his book, as he flipped it slightly in his grip to read onto the next page.

You sighed as you watched the way his index and middle finger gently rubbed the soft fabric of your fluffy socks between his fingers, like some self soothing mechanism.

The blissful noise alerted your husband, his head tilted back so he was looking at you from upside down. “Why’re all the way over there?” He asked softly.

You chuckled against your mug. “You’re touching me, I’m hardly in safe social distance according to advice.”

“Not touching you enough,” he spoke deeply. “Come an’ love me.”

Nose scrunching up at his tone, you reached forward as you rolled your lips into your mouth.

“Have I got to?” You playfully questioned, feeling the tug of his hand become more forceful.

“If yer know what’s good for yer, yer will,” he groused.

Fighting your smile, you ran your tongue against your teeth and tried to remember if you’d brushed them that morning. As disgusting as it sounded, everything was beginning to blur. Days into nights into days.

You slipped off the couch and felt Harry watching you as he manoeuvred to his side. Laying down next to him in such a small space was in some silly way, exhilarating. The idea of being able to feel him against you; the shudder of his stomach as he laughed and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, was everything you needed to get you through quarantine.

The softest smile hit your face as you watched the way he wordlessly lifted his arm to welcome you to him. Sinking into the couch, while it was easy before, definitely felt easier this second time around.

You nestled into his strong chest, feeling his shuffle underneath you and immediately begin to play with the hem of your short sleeve, his fingers lightly grazing against your skin.

Nudging your nose underneath his jawline, you enjoyed the way his stubbled gently tickled you. Harry was always warm and comforting, the right kind of strong and equally the right kind of soft. He had this way of making you feel small but in the tallest of ways.

“Thank you,” you gently whispered when you felt him draw you close to him and saw the way he lifted his book up even high above the two of you so you could see the pages too.

Your hand sat resting just above his belly, and you felt the way it slightly jiggled as he cleared his throat.

He read to you, parts of a book that were realistically intimate that you found now more than anything that making up was the only option.

“Talking to me properly now,” you mouthed against his skin after he stopped reading aloud.

“‘S not me, it’s Bethan Roberts,” he replied, turning the book slightly in his hands so you could see the cover.

“Well tell her I said thanks, managed to get my sulky hubby to produce more than a grunt-“

You heard him groan at your words, “Please don’t call me that.”

“What? Sulky?”

Harry turned his head slightly as he looked down his nose at you, the softest double chin forming. “No. I mean, hubby.”

You gigged. Yes, giggled. Unattractively too. “How about my favourite handy man?”

“Darling,” he warned, not wanting you to pick the scab off a barely healing wound from the much earlier interaction.

Lifting up, you nudged your nose against his cheek, softly sweeping against his facial hair before you located the corner of his mouth. “Not the only one who is good with their hands, you know?”

“‘S tha’ right,” he replied, fighting the laughter itching at his throat. “Think you’re talking shit.”

“But you know I’m not,” you softly rasped, free hand bunching up at the front of Harry’s t-shirt, nails catching against the hairy trail on his stomach. “‘M trying to say I’m sorry.”

“‘M listening, keep going,” he hummed, eyes closed and face blissfully aware he had gotten his own way. You scrunched your nose at his interjection, knowing how much he was thriving at the way you were skirting around your apology.

“You’re such a wanker-“

The breathy laugh that left his mouth had you melting into him, the softest nudge of your lips to his accompanied by a gasped intake of breath as Harry opened his mouth wider.

Hand pressed against his face, you enjoyed feeling the way his jaw extended as he gave you more of him. A satisfied hum lulled your kissing to an erotic stroking of tongues that had him chasing you when you lips parted.

You tilted your head back as he tried to catch your lips with his again, body jostling in the close confinement when he fallen short of his prize.

“Darling,” he drawled, nosing along the center of your neck, your fingers clawing through the hair on the back of his head. You enjoyed the feeling of his face squashed against your skin as he muffled his protests at you not letting him have your lips and have his way.

His playful growl when he broke free of your vice grip to his hair caused you to gleefully squeal, still thrashing to create a cat and mouse game over the sharing of kisses.

By pressing his feet against the arm of the couch, Harry managed to create a leverage over your body. He rolled slightly, face pressed heavily into your cheek as he caught his breath.

“Darling, why’re you being like tha’? I’m trying to show I’m sorry too,” he heavily breathed. “Put it back.”

“Ask nicely,” you panted in return, hand toying above his aching buldge.

“‘M always nice-“ you shook your head at his words. “No? ‘M sorry, sorry darlin’-“

His apology fell away from his lips as you grazed at his heavy bulge, a breathy chuckle bouncing against your already wet and messy lips.

“Can a bloke not read a book while in quarantine in peace?”

“He can if he wants,” you spoke light, hands playing at the waistband of his underwear before sliding down and gently gripping at his bum cheek.

“Wha’ ya doin’?”

“‘S it look like?”

“Like you’re gonna give me a handy.”

“Harry,” you stressed his name as he chucked at his pathetic attempt at a joke.

“Jus’ go with it,” he smiled, eyes closed and content, as he rested his head back slightly.

“Only if you help,” you started, you hand stroking gently back around to his lower abdomen. “Look at me.”

“Look at you, takin’ charge. Want me to wank in front of yer?”

“Do you want me to play with you or not?”

Harry cupped the back of your neck, letting the question die against his lips as he eagerly coaxed your mouth to open up again. Yes, he would like that very much.

Your hand fell still at the top of his underpants as the two of you necked on, lying along the sofa like teens that had their parents house free for a whole weekend; all choked groans and light sighs as neither of you wanted to part.

When you finally came to your senses, you dropped your hand and slid it over the cotton of Harry’s underwear. He felt heavy and warm, his arousal present but you still had enough of a chance to toy with him.

Massaging him through the cotton of his briefs, the sinful groans leaving his lips had you eager to get started. Your hand, ahead of your brain, pushed underneath the waistband as Harry choked at you to slow down.

“‘M too dry,” he mumbled, looking down at you, all soft double chin and stubble. He seemed conflicted, knowing it was a necessary step but just as eager. “Hang on-“

The shuffle of his body caused you to frown as you tried to anchor yourself to him and not fall off the side of the couch. The two of you chuckled as he felt the way you almost slid out from underneath his grip, his whispered “I‘ve got yer” almost lost against the sound of your creaking couch.

His hand slid down against the top of yours and gently squeezed against both his aching cock and your much more nimble fingers.

“You always feel so heavy in my hand, H,” you whispered sultrily. “Let me have it.”

Harry breathed deeply through his nose as you felt the way he circled his hand around your wrist and gently tugged upwards.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he pressed the softest of wet kisses to the inside of your palm, his tongue, as pink as his lips, gently licked at your skin. His eyes were closed, a dip to his brows as he embodied a high level of erotic passion.

Lips puckered and skimming up against your fingers, you felt the way Harry opened his mouth wider, soft tongue now lapping gently at the fingertips of your middle and third finger.

With half a smirk gracing your lips, you slowly lifted your eyes from his mouth, vision tracing up his features before you found his awaiting hazy stare, strong on yours.

You were enjoying the lewd gesture and his commitment to holding your gaze, as you felty yourself flush with unnecessary embarrassment at the visual of your sodden fingers softly slipping from his lips.

The string of saliva left behind by his ardent sucking, coupled with the soft bounce of his bottom lips as you playfully pull at it with the tips of your fingers, had you incessantly mesmerised and craving to kiss.

Harry less than gracefully pushed down at your hand, as the digits of his right palm loosely became woven into the hair on the back of your head.

Jolting forward and breathing heavily against each other’s mouths, Harry licked gently into your mouth and pushed down at his underwear using your fingers.

You giggled at his desperate movements and enjoyed the way his mouth went slack against yours as you grasped at his cock, with ease this time. Trembling breath bouncing against your lips, so satisfying for you.

Harry was always vocal, but there was something about him as he lay squashed against you in the dimming evening light that brought out a wildness unmatched.

The slide of your hand along his shaft eased a coiled tension within Harry as he heavily breathed against the corner of your mouth incoherent praise and subconsciously raised his hips upwards into your enclosed grip as you dared to loosen your fingers around him.

He was greedy for it. His hand once more pulling against the back of your shirt, so the hem now no longer covered your backside but instead sat awkwardly against your lower back.

His moans became muffled as he rolled his lips into his mouth, and caused your vision to blur from the way he heavily pressed his face into yours.

“Fuck me, ‘m gonna come,” he spoke, voice deeper than before, his words lazier as they omitted from him before he gulped. “Unugh, pull me out.”’

Left hand free, Harry beat you to his request. With briefs now bunched against his thighs he tried his hardest to get them down his body, with a rub of his thighs as he gripped firmly at your thigh.

His hand slid up your smooth skin, fingers finding your bare arse cheek and slapping against your taught skin as he encouraged you to wrap your thigh over his hip.

“Gonna leave some cracking marks all over this body by the time I’m done with you,” he spoke firmly into the column of your throat. “Leaning back from me wi’out me ‘aving to tell you an’all- giving me the space I need to shag you just right.”

He took his time to see the way you’d arched for him, head somewhat hanging over the side of the couch as he tried to figure out how to line himself up and please you the only way he knew how.

“Where’d you want me?” he groused, eyes looking down to the pull of your hips towards each other, “Hm? Here okay? With your fingers or mine?”

You wetly whimpered at him, scratching your nails against the skin of his naval before you pressed the palm he had previously licked flat against your centre. Grinding down against your skin, the heel of your palm bumped salaciously against your clit.

“Dirty girl, knows what she wants,” he reached between you, the heat of your core attracting his aching cock that easily as it aligned itself to you. “Sit back on me, gently… Gentle.”

Your fingers could feel the way his cock sunk into you, disappearing inch by inch until your hand was awkwardly squashed between the both of your pelvises.

Somehow you managed to slide your hand around to Harry’s soft hips where you dipped your fingertips into his skin. His mouth sucked at your sternum, revelling in the feel of you having taken him all.

“Giving me your belly,” he confirmed, “Took me all the way, doll. Want all of me, all of my apology eh.”

“God, Harry,” you keened. “Do something.”

He rocked his hips, pressing his feet into the arm of the couch to create a nice leverage and force that tensed his thighs and started a rustling sound against the couch material.

“I am,” he stressed, softly gritting his teeth and seeing you watch him through hooded eyelids. “Don’t just lay there and take me,” he mouthed against your lips. “Give me as good as you get, yeah,” he chuckled as he felt the pressure of your pushing into him, stepping up to his request.

“You’re my favourite lover,” he gasped.

“I better be your only lover,” you breathlessly threatened, tilting your head back. He hummed as he burrowed his head deeper into your jaw.

“You’re the only one I shag like this,” he replied, hand sliding down when he felt your thighs start to give way. “Thighs up or ‘m stopping.”

You whined feeling a burning sensation forming in the crease of your thigh as you tried to keep yourself as closely connected to Harry as possible. “You wouldn’t,” you goaded him, the heel of your foot running against the back of his hairy thigh.

“Wouldn’t I?” He questioned, brushing back your hair that was starting to get sweaty. When you thought about it, the whole of your body was.

The warmth radiating from each tilt and rock of your hips a little easier with formed sweat and arousal, while the feel of Harry’s hand splayed out against arse cheek, made you feel owned.

He held you tight as he slowly moved against you, rocking back and forth as you self-soothed egos and bruised hearts. Heavy breaths mingled between kisses as he admitted his love for you and you for him.

“Missed you today,” he murmured against your cheekbone.

“I’ve been here-“

He nudged his nose against you now, as he shook his head. “Been different, sick of me and these four walls. Beginning to climb ‘em, ain’t we? Have’ta tell me, so I can ‘ave a go at fixing it.”

“Isn’t that why we are argued to begin with, cause of your fixing-“

His lips quirked at your quickness, “Smart arse.”

Humming, you brushed his hair away, scratching by his ear and hearing his pleased purrs at your shower of affections.

“We’re good, show me we’re good-“ you dipped your head back as he pulled you tighter against him, thrusting and creating the first clapping sound of your skin that evening. “Yes, show me we’re better than good.”

Harry felt the way your skin was tacky against his, his hand peeling away from your bum to your thigh. A weird humidity had clouded the lounge not usually felt in the British Spring Time, woven with the heady smell of your sex and unadulterated love.

All space was eliminated between both of your bodies as he knocked up into you, skin rubbing from the force.

“Why didn’t you take off this bloody shirt?” You groaned, scratching your nails against the fabric, as you clung to him.

“Cause someone could wait to have her way wi’me,” he chimed, voice light and singing. “God you want it don’t you?”

He could feel the way you were squeezing at him, releasing a guttural gasp at his questioning of you. You pulled him deeper than anyone has ever been able to do and that made him proud. Proud to call you his. His lover, his wife. His lifetime.

“Harry, I’m gonna come,” you panted, high-pitched and positively annoying to anyone outside your shared lust. Nails again irritatingly scratched against his back, this time he was thankful he kept his t-shirt on, not wanting to deal with any stinging skin in the shower later on.

With each forceful thrust, he pressed at your arse forcing your hips into his as he pulled you into him. He knew you were fast approaching your release, a change in the way you writhed against him and produced keening whines that pulled a smugness like no other from his chest.

Hair falling against his forehead, sweaty and unforgiving, Harry rested his forehead against yours and sucked passionately at your bruise lips and lapped at your saltiness. His focus zoned in on only you, your hitching breath on his face and tired body heavier in arms.

He knew you were spent but he was grateful for your trying. Eyes halfway shut but lips managing to entice him by forming his name faintly and loud enough for him to hear. The erotic murmur easily made a mess of him faster than your loudest moans only moments earlier.

This was yours. This was his.

No one saw you like this but him. No one saw him like this but you.

“‘M so in love wi’you,” he admitted, watching your eyes roll back into your head, body trembling as you got closer to your peak. “Giving me a good one, tha’ I don’t deserve.”

He smiled as he watched the way you rubbed against him, as he felt you squeeze around him, pulling a choked moan from him as he squeezed at the back of your neck with his right hand, and quickened the motion of his hips.

“Don’t stop,” you panted heavily, body tightening as your mouth fell open, silently. Eyes fluttering shut as you babbled his name and he changed the roll of his hips to deep nudges to get him what he wanted from your sensitivity.

Your body went slack against him as he bottomed out inside of you, he mouthed into your skin, “Know you're tired but don’t go still on me. Love me back.”

Mewling at his breathy request, you tried to match his deep thrusts as best you could, feeling his hand against your clit. “Harry,” you whispered in a warning.

“Okay, okay, I won’t- had enough?”

“Want some more,” you hummed, even though you knew you shouldn’t, already feeling faintly sore.

He growled, through his closed mouth, bum cheeks clenched as he felt the way you took him. Selfless and affectionate. In that moment, he knew he would never find another like you.

And that was enough for him to give you everything he had.

And you took it all. Fingers woven through the back of his head, clinging to his head as he burrowed down into your neck. Fierce grunts muffled and chest tight, gasping for air.

Your come down was bittersweet. The feel of Harry softening between your legs, before resting between them in a way that was wet and spent. A familiar moment.

Harry took his time admiring you, gaze looking at your flushed out cheeks and sparkling eyes.

The two of you lay in silence, Harry brushing back your hair before pushing himself up and leaning on his hand. Looking up at him, you swore you’d never seen anyone more handsome and comfortable within themselves.

The crack of an elastic waistband caused you to look down your bodies as you watched the way he fidgeted with his underpants that he had just pulled back on.

“Why’ve you done that. Take ‘em back off,” you poured, looking up at him wide eyed. He chuckled down at you and your demanding words.

“‘S gone cold, y’know,” he hummed. “Won’t do so much for my ego, if you see wha’ it’s like down there when ‘m cold.”

“Does the job alright for me,” you said, pulling him down to you.

With a chuckle, he pecked you’re lips to try and satiate you, before he pulled away. Eyes falling onto your two mugs of tea that sat within arms reach on your coffee table.

“‘M fuckin’ parched,” he said. “Hold onto me a sec.”

Before you could think, Harry was rolling his body over yours, doing his best to keep his weight off you completely. You clenched your fingers into his shirt, watching him with wide eyes as he scooped up his mug and took a sip.

“‘S gone cold,” he murmured, before he swigged at the drink again. You looked up at him in all your double chin glory.

“No change there then. Gonna have to start rationing the tea bags cause you’re taking the piss not drinking the teas I make you.”

He dropped his gaze, eyes looking at yours. “D’ya need some tissue to clean up?”

You hummed, not wanting to make a move.

“Gonna have to start rationing the toilet roll cause you're taking the piss-“ he didn’t get to finish his sentence before you covered his mouth with your hand.

And if he knew what was good for him he wouldn’t finish it either.

***

Shout out to my usual suspects who always put up with my bullshit @waitingfortwilight, @harryfeatgaga, @huccimermaidshirts, @haute-romance-quotidienne, @majorharry and @for-fucks-sake-h. Also, @harrysonlyangelsss and @sweetcreatureinthedark, because why not?

Big up @waitingfortwilight for the title <3

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry smut #harry fluff #harry styles fan fic #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #my writing

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waejinyoung · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t Swim - EP . 5

word count: 4.4k+

a/n: a quicker comeback unlike last time. i know the ending might annoy some people but i wanted to try out a cliffhanger having got the chance.

warning: swearing, thats it lol

EP . 1 , EP . 2 , EP . 3 , EP . 4 , EP . 5 , EP . 6 , EP .7 , EP . 8 , EP . 9

Well, Friday was unexpected. Friday answered many things. Jinyoung’s job. Jinyoung’s friends. Your feelings. Jinyoung’s feelings towards your feelings. So much happened in one day even you couldn’t believe your life had gotten so much action.

Now it was the weekend and luckily you had things to do to take yesterday’s doings off your mind. The eco-hotel.

Saturday Midday

You had Beck come over for the weekend to work on the eco-hotel together. The sheets for the new hotel plans were distributed across the living room floor and the sun was at its peak. You went over to your air con and switched it on. Beck wasn’t a stranger, so you were dressed in a pair of shorts and an oversized short sleeved top. Your hair was up in a messy bun with a pencil behind your ear. You had all your equipment around the room. To be completely honest, the room was an organised mess. Note the word organised.

“Y/N can we take a break? It’s boiling in this room.” Beck looked absolutely drained from the morning session working to finish the eco-hotel.

“I was about to ask the same thing. Want an ice cream or a cold drink?” You signalled that you were gonna head to the kitchen.

“A cold cup of water should do. I’ll be out on the balcony.” You headed over to your kitchen and grabbed a glass of cold water for both of you.

You made sure to manoeuvre through the sheets of paper without dropping a single drop on the them. You gave the drink to Beck. He downed the whole glass in seconds.

“Beck, if you were this thirsty you’re no stranger you could have gotten some water.” You chuckled at his obvious thirst. You sipped some of your water.

“I didn’t even realise how thirsty I was either. Let me go grab another glass.” Beck went back to grab more water.

“Be careful of all the sheets on the floor. No frog movements please, just be extremely careful.” You shouted back into your home hoping he got the message.

You thought to yourselves how you’ll be able to have all the drawings done for Monday morning. You and Beck decided that it was both of your faults for having one of the pieces of land stolen from the next door firm. Hence why you called off all your employees that were working on this project. So, it was just you and Beck until Monday morning

“It’s going to be a rough weekend isn’t it?” Beck came back onto the balcony and saw your nervous face.

“I’m so scared we won’t finish it on time. I even considered calling the client and completely blowing off the project.”

“Good thing you didn’t. I believe we can do it. Even if it does mean less hours of sleep. This is nothing new Y/N. This has been our lives since the first year of architecture school.”

“Speak for yourself. I didn’t cut any hours of sleep for our under grad.”

“That’s true and somehow you still completed your work with flying colours.” You brushed your shoulders and flicked your hair trying to act out the phrase ‘what can I say? I’m that good’ in actions.

“Don’t get too happy. We need those skills back in action until the end of this project.”

“I think what hurts is that this project is actually finished but the client wants hand drawings as well as digital orthographics. Who even wants hand drawings anymore?” You sighed at the unnecessary request by the client.

“Ya! Don’t say that, especially not near the client.”

“I know, I know. He’s a big deal. Everyone knows him and his creations. Who thought he’d want a hotel built in a small town like Jinhae?”

“I guess he heard about the increasing number of tourists coming to Jinhae, especially during the cherry blossom season. If you ask me, it’s a smart move.” You nodded in agreement.

“Come on, let’s get back to work. Enough chit chat.” You headed back into the living room. Beck straight behind you.

“I finished the floor plans. So, we have elevations and sections to draw. We’ve done the axonometric drawings digitally anyways. Mr Chan is gonna have to excuse us for one missing drawing. I may try and do it if we have enough time.” Beck looked at you with a shocked expression.

“You have all the plans done already? Why in hell are we stressing then?” Beck had a smile on his face. Why in hell is he smiling?

“Why are you smiling? We still have so much to do, come on.” You faffed your hands around trying to get Beck to now focus on his work.

“Okay, okay! I’m working.” You guys returned to working at a reasonably fast pace hoping to have most of the drawings done by the end of today.

6:00 PM

You both ended the day by 6:00 pm. You guys had most of the drawings done by then anyways. Beck had never actually had a sit down session alongside you and was shocked at how quick you were. You were done with your drawings, but he had a couple left which you guys both agreed on finishing for Sunday. You still insisted for him to stay the whole weekend which was the original plan.

You guys made eye contact having declared that was enough for the day.

“Takeout.” You both mouthed to each other at the same time.

“Great minds think alike.” Beck exclaimed as you grabbed your phone to call in your usual order. Pizza. A food that’s simple, easy and you just can’t go wrong with.

“Can you order a x-large for today? I’m feeling extra hungry.”

“Alrighty, give me a second?” You rang up the usual place and processed your order. The person on the other end of the call took your order and read back that it should be there in 20 minutes.

“We have 20 minutes to kill. What do we do?”

“I think you should make a call to the leisure centre too.”

“Why?” Were you missing something?

“The meeting is at 11:00 am. Your swimming lesson?”

“Ah shit. I was looking forward for that lesson too. Maybe I can move the lesson so it’s after the meeting. Are we available then?”

“Bad news. The client said to leave the rest of the day free after the meeting. He didn’t say exactly why but I say we listen to him.”

You were looking forward to seeing Jinyoung. More than that whenever you couldn’t make it for your lessons, Max would be the one to cover for your group. Although, everyone knew that wasn’t a good option considering the awkward situation. But you had no choice, it was now up to Jooheon to solve the issue.

You dialled Jooheon’s number.

“Hey Y/N!” He seemed really cheery. You were sure the news you were gonna give him now would kill the mood.

“Hi Jooheon, got some bad news.”

“What is it?”

“You know about the eco-hotel… The presentation for the project is at 11:00 am on Monday meaning I won’t be able to come for the 10:00 am beginners class.”

“That’s fine. I’ll let Max know he has a cover for Monday.”

You waited in silence hoping Jooheon got the idea why it was bad news.

“Oh shit…” Took him long enough.

“Yh… hence why I said bad news.”

“We don’t have anyone else free during that period too. You know about that.”

“I was going to see if we could rearrange the time but turns out the client wants the whole day off with us. No clue why.”

“I’ll talk with Max, you don’t worry. If you can contact Jinyoung prior to the lesson too that would be great.”

“I’ll try my best to squeeze in some time. We are busy as you could imagine.”

“You guys get back to work. I’ll solve the problem. You don’t need to worry. If that’s all I need to get back to my own work too. Talk to you later Y/N!”

“Thank you so much Jooheon!”

You hung up.

“Sorted?”

You nodded at Beck.

The afternoon continued calmly, and you guys discussed the eco-hotel presentation that’ll take place. The pizza arrived and you guys tucked into your food. Your anxiety was growing as the minutes went by. How was Monday going to turn out?

…

Sunday Evening

You guys were actually ready. You both were shocked after rehearsing the presentation for the 10th time how well produced all the work was.

“I wouldn’t have even thought that I’d be getting a night’s sleep before this meeting.”

“I think sleep was the big motivator. You know how I can last on a hand full amount of sleep.”

“That’s true. You’re useless when it comes to working during the night.”

“Wooow, rude much.”

“I’m kidding. You performed really well. You reminded me why I partnered with you to start up a company.” You smiled at this compliment.

“You gonna stay over tonight as well or crash at home?”

“Could I stay over so we can just go to the meeting together tomorrow?”

“Yeah sure, this is like your second home after all. I feel like you’d also want to take advantage of my signature breakfast.”

“Was I that obvious?” Beck laughed at his failed attempt.

“I can read you like a book. You don’t need to hide your intentions.”

“Damn it.”

“I’ll prepare the long awaited breakfast tomorrow morning. Be up for 9:00 am. Set an alarm if you have to. I’ll tuck into breakfast with or without you.” You headed over to your bedroom and waved Jooheon goodnight.

“Goodnight! Sleep tight, don’t let the cantilevers bite.”

You went back to react to his really dead architecture joke.

“Get in the bin.” With Beck laughing at this really bad joke, you went back into your room and headed off to bed.

…

Monday morning

“Beck get your ass up its 9!” Typical, he hadn’t moved a single inch for the past minute that his alarm has been going off for.

“Y/N 5 more minutes.”

“5 more minutes and you’ll get no breakfast.”

“Breakfast…BREAKFAST!” Beck jumped out of the bed and flung himself grabbing some clothing on the way straight to do bathroom.

“This guy” You laughed at his reaction.

You left him to get ready and went back to the balcony and poured both of you some rich black tea. You settled in your usual seat and started filling your plate with all the different delicacies you laid on the table earlier on.

“You’ve done it again! I love these Mediterranean breakfasts you make. I need to come here more often.”

“Be my guest. It’s sometimes lonely enjoying a feast alone.”

“I could imagine. Although, that should have changed no?” What was he on about?

“Once you’re gone I’ll be back to having lonely breakfasts.”

“No, I mean you and your new boyfriend. When were you planning on telling me? You’ve been silent all weekend about it- “

“Boyfriend?? In who’s world did you hear that I have a boyfriend?” You used all your strength to not spit out the tea you had just sipped.

“The singer-actor guy? What was his name again? You were making headlines with him all weekend have you not checked your phone at all?”

You leaped back inside and grabbed your phone. No messages. No calls. What? Was this some kind of joke?

“Beck I haven’t got a single notification. Are you taking the piss?”

He grabbed your phone from you and enabled your WIFI. He knew you would switch it off whenever you had important things to do like this weekend. As soon as your phone connected to your router, all sorts of things flooded your phone screen. You took it back off him and read all the headlines.

Love strikes under the full moon

Waves were not the only things crashing that night

GOT7’s Jinyoung and his secret lover

Who could she be?

Secret Girlfriend and Aspiring Actor kicking it off on the Beach

“You’ve got to be kidding me?! Right before an important meeting as well. The company’s image. My image. My parents. How in the hell did this all happen?”

“Y/N sit down. It’s kinda late. You’ll just have to explain everything to whoever asks. Don’t worry about the company’s image, we all know how hardworking and talented you are.”

“Give me a sec. I need to make a call.” Jinyoung must have seen all the news too. You gave him a ring but no answer. He might be thinking that he’ll speak at one point during the leisure centre and you hadn’t found the time to let him know you won’t be in.

“Y/N calm down. Focus on the meeting please. You can sort out whatever this is afterwards.” You sat back down and tried to calm yourself down. Beck was right. You guys had an important meeting to focus on.

“Sorry.”

“Y/N shut up. I don’t want to hear it. Eat up, we have a long day ahead of ourselves.”

You tried to eat something, but it just wouldn’t work. Every mouthful felt like labour. You guys cleared up the table and went to prep for the meeting. You brushed your teeth and took a quick shower. You knew you were ready for this meeting, now it was just time to act on what you knew. You took out a pair of cream shorts alongside a white oversized tank top and a brown belt. You grabbed your nude heals and the gold accessories off your drawers to put on as you left. You had your hair wavey from your twisted bun that you always slept with in and a little mascara, the usual. Beck had loaded your car with all the sheets to pin up for the meeting alongside all the small scale models you had at your house.

You locked your house and ran to your car. Beck was ready in the passenger’s seat running over the minor things on his iPad.

“Have you rung the company to check the room is prepared, refreshments all that jazz.”

“Erm… yeah but there’s apparently loads of paparazzi that security is trying to hold off.” Your head shot towards Beck. As if that was needed.

“Guess we are entering through the back entrance. Call the client at let him know to do the same.”

“On it.” Thank god for Beck.

…

20 minutes later

You were driving past the usual entrance of the company and saw the tons of people that the security was blocking off. In a million years you wouldn’t have thought you’d have paparazzi at your company door.

“Can today get any worse?” You questioned out loud.

“Don’t say that. Just get in through the back, it’ll be over soon.”

Your receptionist let you through the back entrance and you guys moved to the meeting room that was prepped for the meeting.

“The room looks great. Just like how we agreed on.” You smiled at your receptionist.

“The presentation team did a great job. I’ll treat them for a meal.” Beck offered. You agreed with his statement.

“Mr Chan should be here in 30 minutes. Let’s pin up the sheets and bring all the models to this room.” You both left your belongings in the room and went down to the fabrication labs down stairs. To head to fabrication, you guys had to walk past the front entrance. You peaked to see if the people had gone but no. It had gotten worse. There were more people we even bigger cameras. How on earth?

JINYOUNG’S POV

You were right on time for your lesson. You and the kids were waiting at the pool side for Y/N. You kind of felt giddy after what happened on Friday. What stage would you call you and Y/N now? You checked the clock and saw that she was 5 minutes late. This didn’t seem like Y/N, she’s always early. Or has been for the past 2 lessons anyways.

“Woojin, is Miss ever late?” Woojin shook his head no.

Jaehyun heard from his dock and decided to let you know about the news.

“Jinyoung hyung, Y/N has a really important meeting today. She called in to say she won’t be making it for this lesson meaning Max will be taking over for today.”

Max… is taking over? This isn’t going to go well.

“Thanks, Jaehyun.” Jaehyun saluted which is his way of saying ‘no problem’.

You were thinking why Y/N wouldn’t have told you until you realised… the missed call this morning. She tried to get in contact with you, but you weren’t available. Damn it.

“Jaehyun, do you know where Y/N’s company building is at?”

“Yh, it’s the one and only big fancy glass building in the town centre.” She works there? She’s very humble for a CEO.

“Right, I’ll be absent for today. You can let Max know when he does the register. Also, what time is the meeting?”

“It starts at 11:00 am, why did you ask?”

“I’m going to attend.”

Jaehyun started cackling, “Do you think you can just walk into a client meeting? You must be mad. Jinyoung hyung it’s a serious meeting, you can’t just barge in.”

“Fine, I’m going to wait for there then.”

“No can do.” Max was behind you ask he listened to the conversation. You turned around to face Max.

“I can leave if I want.”

“Kids, do we want Jinyoung to leave this lesson? We all want him to stay don’t we?” You couldn’t believe he was going to use the kids as bait for you to stay.

“Yes, Jinyoung oppa please stay!”

“Jinyoung hyung, don’t go!”

The kids started whining, hoping you would stay for the lesson. He used his weapons well; you couldn’t break the kids’ hearts especially when you knew how much Y/N cares for the kids. You were gonna stay for her sake.

You knelt down to the kids and gave them a smile, “Fine, I’ll stay.”

You gave a glance to Max and hopefully you both sided with getting through this lesson without any disruptions. And so, the lesson commenced.

“We will be doing a test today.”

“A test?”, Hyungwon gulped, “But Miss didn’t mention a test last week?”

“Well Hyungwon, this is a surprise test. I’ll be marking everyone on how well they perform on the things Miss taught in the past 2 weeks.” This guy is doing this on purpose.

“How will you be marking us?” You spoke up.

“3 columns. Speed. Technique. A race. The place you come in the race will determine how many points you get for the ‘race’ column.”

“I’m gonna beat you all.” Woojin was already hyped to get the highest score. You would have probably been as excited as Woojin if the teacher was different.

“Right, we will be starting with Technique. I’ll be going off the register order so line up in that order and I’ll be testing your technique swimming front stroke.” You lined up along with the kids. You were obviously last.

Max got to you. You had a feeling he was gonna try and do everything to give you a bad mark. You remembered all the things Y/N had taught you and starting swimming to the area Max marked. You hated that this man was good at something you weren’t. Knowing he was ahead in something gave him more say and material on you.

“I feel sad for Y/N,” You waited for him to continue to see what he meant, “For having such a crap student.” He jotted down a fat 0 next to your name under the technique column. Jaehyun heard from his dock the comment Max had made and made eye contact with you. He was pleading for you to not react to Max’s words since that was exactly what he wanted to do. You clenched your fists and took a deep breath. You weren’t gonna lose this easily.

“I feel sad for Y/N too. Different reason though.” You gave Max a dirty look so he got the idea that you were referring to him in some way.

“Max hyung, are we moving onto speed now?” Woojin separated both of your focusses onto him.

“Yes Woojin-ah, get ready I’ll be timing you guys. You all have to swim in whichever style you want from one end to another.”

“Get to the side.” Max turned his face back to you and spoke in a demanding tone. He was really grinding your gears. This was going to be a long hour.

Y/N’S POV

“Good morning Mr Chan. I hope your flight yesterday was well.” You shook Mr Chan’s hand as he took his seat in the meeting room.

“Good Morning Miss Y/L/N and Mr Longing. I arrived without any problems. I got some rest too. All in all, I’m ready for today’s meeting.”

“Agreed, Mr Chan. I’ll begin with the site analysis and our response with our design.” You and Beck agreed for Beck to start the meeting and then you to end it.

“So, as you may have heard one of the plots of land were taken out of our hands. There was some complications with the landowners, but we decided that one plot of land was enough to fulfil the criteria of an eco-hotel.” With that Beck continued with explaining the new updates on the hotel design after the land issue.

“Mr Chan, the maquettes and models are laid out in the order of development. This is how the overall design developed into the final result. The 3D printed large model at the end is the final version of the hotel in a simple representation of the surrounding area around it.” You moved towards the model and showed Mr Chan where the sun would be travelling throughout the day. You brought along all the hand drawings from the past couple days too to show what each individual room would look like from all angles.

“These look amazing. I’m really thankful for the models and the drawings, they give a really good idea of what the final outcome will look like.” You and Beck looked at each other and gave a smile. All the hard work you both had put on for the past couple days had come through.

“Although, I wanted to ask one thing.” You diverted your attention to Mr Chan.

“Yes, Mr Chan go ahead.” You were nervous from his sudden question. You were sure you and Beck hadn’t missed out on any information.

“It hasn’t got to do with the project.”

“What exactly are you referring to Mr Chan?”

“You, Miss Y/L/N.” You looked up at Beck. What could Mr Chan want to know about you?

“Go ahead, Mr Chan. I’m listening.” If you were honest, you weren’t feeling well. You started breathing heavier than usual scared of what Mr Chan was going to ask.

“The paparazzi’s at the front door. Why are they here?” Fuck. This should have been something you should have thought about earlier on. You looked at Beck for help. You had no answer to give.

“That wasn’t Miss Y/L/N, Mr Chan. There has been a misunderstanding. The news reports are still speculating who the person is and Miss Y/L/N has just been mistaken for the girl that the actor was with. As you may have seen the photographs were taken at night, so it is hard to tell who it is, as expected.” Beck covered up for you.

“I see… and Miss Y/L/N what do you plan on doing about the news.”

“I’m aiming to get in contact with the actor’s agency to speak up and deny allegations about my involvement since that is the truth. I’ll also be holding a conference soon to news outlets about the situation. I don’t want anything like this to throw dirt under our company’s name.”

“I thought it was you Miss,” Is he being serious?, “I was going to congratulate you on your new relationship. That was the reason for the flowers. You’re also human. I thought you were taking a step forward in your person life. I know about how popular you are among fellow architects, for your work and for you too.” Me? Popular among architects? Step forward in my person life? Can life stop throwing new surprises nowadays, you were happy with your boring life.

“Mr Chan.” Beck addressed your client.

“We thought you would be disappointed about the truth. If that is the case I’d like to firstly apologise for what I just said. I didn’t mean to lie Mr Chan, but we didn’t want anything to cause you to- “

“It’s fine Mr Longing. Congratulations Miss Y/L/N. It’s really nice to see the new generation finding love. I’m sure you have found the right person for you.”

“Mr Chan, I appreciate your comments although it’s a little more complicated than that. We are not exactly dating or haven’t exactly clarified it between ourselves.” You struggled to keep eye contact with your client at this rate. Beck eyed you knowing you could have just suggested that you had a fling days before an important meeting.

“I’m sure you guys will even end up getting married one day. I sensed it when I saw your photos side by side.” You just smiled at Mr Chan’s observations.

“I hope whatever is best for the both of us is what happens.” Mr Chan agreed and focussed back on the project.

“Was there anything else you’d like to ask Mr Chan?” Beck wanted to make sure Mr Chan was completely clear of the new changes in order to process the build.

“Can I decide on which trees and floors to have planted in the hotel? I know the botanic designers tend to do so.”

“Of course, Mr Chan. As long as the greenery you choose passes the climate test meaning they’ll stay alive in Jinhae’s weather conditions, you can choose which ones we decorate the hotel with.”

“Great, that marks the end of the meeting. You guys have done an outstanding job. Better than what I expected. What’s the estimated date of completion?”

“If everything goes well, the hotel should be completely finished and ready for service for the month of March 2022.”

Mr Chan clapped in happiness. You were happy to have made your extremely important client over the moon.

“I’d like to take you guys out for dinner. I hope you guys made sure the rest of your days are free-“

You were getting a call from Jooheon. You never get calls from Jooheon during meetings, he knows not to disturb unless it’s an emergency.

“Mr Chan, could I please take this call?”

“Sure, go ahead. Me and Mr Longing will decide on where to eat.” You smiled and left the meeting room and picked up the call.

“Jooheon, what is it?”

“Y/N.. I-“

“Jooheon please tell me. Did something happen?”

“Jinyoung…He’s in the- “

“The what Jooheon can you just say it already?”

“The hospital.”

“HOSPITAL?!?”

---

Oooooo… the suspense. I haven’t tried these sorts of endings before, so I wanted to give it a shot. I want to leave it up to you guys for now to imagine what may have happened. Until the next episode, see you! Next episode will be extraordinary, you can count on me.

writer-nim x

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years ago

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Monday Mornings

A/N: Hey there and HAPPY MONDAY! This is the last of the Nick smooches, and I decided to tie it in with Made Man. Think of it as an interlude of sorts, falling between the time that Nick arrives at the Dockside, and that lovely moment in the intro where the L-word drops for the first time...about two months before that, actually. Anywho, these Nick smooches have been F U N. I do plan on at least one more follow up section to the 10,800/ Make Somethin’ Nick, but that’s gonna have to wait it’s turn, because after this one... IT’S BILLY SEASON!

Word Count: 2,282

Warnings: some lemons. and like ten seconds of HIGH STRESS.

Prompt from: @its-my-little-dumpster-fire

AGAIN, i was feeling generous with this one, so have a whole day full of no reason. ;)

Monday had quickly become Nick’s favorite day of the week. The Dockside was closed then meaning that you had the day off from slinging drinks and concealing drop offs. Steve rarely ran any illicit operations when the restaurant wasn’t open, not wanting to draw attention to the establishment with cars and people coming and going, so for all intents and purposes it was Nick’s day off too. The way that the two of you had been spending your Mondays lately made him realize that he never really stood a chance when it came to falling for you, regardless of how hard he’d tried not to after stepping off that ferry.

He rolled over in the unmade bed. In the two months since your lazy routine had evolved to involve the bedroom, he’d only seen the comforter made up once. You preferred the feeling of getting into a bed that had already been slept in, even if the two of you hadn’t done much sleeping. Nick’s preference was simply a bed that you were in with him. Since all he had was the air mattress on the floor in the room he rented, your place was where you spent most of your time together. Face pressed against the mint green pillowcase, he inhaled the scent of your shampoo. A shiver went down his bare back and even though the windows in the old house were drafty and the radiator hadn’t worked since you moved in, he was sure that it had nothing to do with the temperature. It was you, the way you overpowered all of his senses. Especially common sense.

From the white gray light coming in through the curtains he could tell that it was somewhere around midday. He lifted himself up to his elbows, your pillow still between his arms and bunched up against his chest, to look out the window properly. Sliding the curtain aside with two long fingers, he blinked against the blinding clarity of the colorless March sky. A thin layer of transparent slush covered the ground and coated the waxy leaves of the holly bush beneath your bedroom window. Another blink and his dark brown eyes adjusted to the light enough so that he could see that the precipitation had started to turn to rain, fat, frigid drops falling to water down the snow that started earlier. It would all be washed away soon, dripping into the sewage drains and leaving the day damp and cold. Letting the curtain go, he slumped back down into the sheets, releasing a long breath through his nose. Five more minutes. She gets five more minutes before I drag her back here…

He vaguely remembered you saying something about breakfast, vaguely remembered telling you all he needed was you...and maybe some coffee… but you’d slapped his hands playfully away from your waist as you laughed, shaking your head. “You can stay here, lazy bones, I’ll be right back.” You grabbed the closest scrap of clothing- the tee he’d worn the night before- and tugged it over your head. Nick tucked an elbow behind his neck and watched as the soft dark fabric unfurled over the curves of your body, just barely concealing the rounded cheeks that only moments ago he held firmly in both hands.

“Looks better on you,” he mumbled as you scooped up a pair of jeans from the foot of the bed and stepped into them. With a smirk and a hop you pulled the tight denim up your legs and fastened them shut, tucking his shirt loosely into the waistband.

You turned to him, your smirk still showing through the fringe of hair that had escaped your messy bun. “Maybe I should keep it then, huh?” You leaned over him in the bed and he stared up at you, a smile growing on his own lips to match yours.

He reached for your waist again and this time, since there were clothes involved and the distraction wouldn’t be too impossible to walk away from, you let him make a grip on your hips. He slipped a finger through your belt loop and pulled you down until you fell giggling on top of him, one leg on either side. He dropped one hand to your thigh, the other still hooked through the loops at your hip. “Yeah. Yeah maybe you should.”

You looked down at the shirt, pulling the loose fit away from your body to emphasize how large it was on you. “Yeah, I mean, fits so good’n all.” With a playful roll of your eyes you released the shirt and instead made a grip in his hair, letting yourself fall forward onto his chest. “I dunno though,” you said in a low voice, inching closer to his face. “Still think it looks best on the floor.” You gave a light pull on the thick locks in your hand and the sound he made was somewhere between a groan and a laugh before your lips made contact with his and his hands slid all along your body, over your jeans and untucking the shirt in question to seek the satisfaction of your skin against his palms. He felt you sigh into the kiss as he pressed you closer, and rolled his hips slowly but intentionally up into yours so that your sigh melted into a moan that he hungrily devoured. He knew that if you’d gone through the trouble of actually getting dressed that you meant business about getting breakfast, even though he’d be happy to go the whole day without food if it meant getting to continue this; getting to feel you like this, to taste you, to hold you and draw those sounds from you, with no rush, nowhere to be and no reason for any of it aside from absolute pleasure.

He’d stalled you earlier when you’d gotten out of the shower, your wet hair smelling like rosemary and citrus, the steam still coming off of your body as he talked you back into the sheets and his arms. He flipped you under him, stealing your breath and absorbing your warmth as his fingers undid the towel you had wrapped around yourself so he could use them to undo you as well. His kisses matched each pass of his fingers, tongue slipping in, lips pressing and teeth nipping to mirror the pressure and pace he set as you writhed beneath him until you collapsed, spent for the third time that morning. Taking advantage of your dizzy euphoria, Nick’s limbs enveloped you once more and he held you close until you fell asleep against his chest, indecisive snow and rain falling outside the window.

When you’d finally pulled yourself away from him, tucking his shirt back into your pants and pulling a sweater from a hook over the bedroom door, you blew him one more kiss and told him not to move, that you’d be back, and that after breakfast you could get back to the nothing that you both wanted to be engaged in.

It was a war of wills every Monday morning, dragging each other in and out of bed, and Nick sensed that your will was waning with each passing week. It started out as nothing more than killing time on your shared day off, both of you clearly attracted to the other, but still naive enough to think that nothing would come of it; that you could get away with watching movies together, lounging in your living room while the day went to waste and you flicked popcorn kernels at one another. It progressed into sharing meals and one or two times, before the bedroom came into play, he’d crashed on the couch and walked you to work the following morning. Eventually, it had turned into what it was now, his lips and hands on you as soon as you were out of sight of your place of employment on Sunday night, not leaving until you were back in view Tuesday to open the bar. Somewhere in the last few weeks, Nick felt his own will fade, too, and as much as he’d told himself that he wouldn’t fall for you, you’d given him reasons to: the shape you made curled against his body while you slept, the way your scent soaked into his clothes so he went home missing you, the sound of your laughter as you teased him about his accent or his baseball team. I’m toast.

The five minutes from the time he peeked out the window passed, and you still hadn’t come back to bed. With a sprawling stretch and a contented yawn, Nick sat up and looked for something to pull on. But with you wearing his shirt, all he could find were his pants. He yanked them on one leg at a time, then ran a hand through his hair before leaving your room for the first time in over twelve hours. Descending the narrow staircase, he heard the creak of the third step and felt the give in the railing. His eyes roved over the few pictures lining the wall, and the triangular bit of torn wallpaper that was peeling away from the sheetrock. All of these things were becoming as familiar to him as your bed and your body. It was what he didn’t hear or see or smell that heightened his senses; no coffee brewing, no sizzling eggs, clattering pans, or soft footsteps dancing through the kitchen. By the time he was halfway down the steps, Nick was on high alert. This ain’t right...she’s not here…

The click of the door handle turning made him spin towards the living room as he quickly came down the last few stairs. He reached behind himself instinctively before silently cursing. Shit! Fuckin’ gun’s upstairs. He swallowed and squared up, waiting for the door to swing open, hands clenched in tight, white knuckled fists at his sides. The door opened and a few wet drops blew in before two boots- two bright green, polka dotted boots came into view, attached to a pair of legs wearing the jeans he’d watched you wiggle into earlier. Nick blew out a breath in a huff as he shook his head and you hurried inside, shutting the door behind you. You were balancing two cups of coffee and a paper bag and your hood was pulled up over your head until you shook it off. Nick leaned against the doorway from the hall to the living room, arms crossed over his bare chest. You still hadn’t noticed him, despite his racing heart that he swore could be heard back in Boston. He cleared his throat loudly and raised an eyebrow at you.

You turned then, stripping your soaked outer layer and leaving it in a pile on the tiled floor of your entryway. “Oh,” you smiled, cheeks and nose cherry red from the chilly air. “Hey, Nick, I thought I told you to stay put?”

“Yeah, you did. And I thought you were just down here. You went out?”

You held the bag up to show him the logo. “Yeah well I told you Atlantic Bagel is only open ‘til 2,” you checked an imaginary watch as you slid your boots off. “And I wanted my fix. Bacon egg and cheese on Everything?” You looked at him like he was supposed to know what that meant. “C’mon, Tortano, I told you about it when we woke up.” He shook his head questioningly. She thinks I’m gonna remember somethin bout’a bagel after all...that? You shrugged. “I got you one too, grumpy.” You set the bag and coffees down on the side table next to the couch and crossed the few remaining steps to wrap your arms around his midsection.

You had brought the cold in with you and he hissed as you made contact. “You’re freezin’,” he uncrossed his arms to wrap them around you. “Jesus, is it really that cold out?”

“Yeah, it is. You gotta warm me up.” You looked up at him and winked with a smile, a frozen flake still stuck on one of your eyelashes.

He chuckled softly, scrunching his nose at you. “Yeah, I can do that.” Nick dropped a quick kiss to your lips. “Ya know, when I didn’t hear you down here I got...I uh,...I was worried. So… you gonna go out make sure I know, yeah?” You started to protest and he knew what you were about to say. “Yeah, yeah, I know you said you told me but how was I supposed to keep my head on straight when you were up there doin’ what you were doin’, huh?” You giggled and he loved the way it felt against his chest. “Just...doesn’t hurt to tell me twice. I just…” I just wanna know you’re safe.

You rose on your toes to kiss him back. “Yeah, Nick, I’ll tell you twice.” You grabbed his hand then and tugged him back towards the stairs.

“Thought you had to get your fix?” He tilted his head to the bagel bag and coffees.

You shrugged and climbed one more step. “I can heat ‘em up in the oven.” You reached down and untucked his shirt from your jeans, pulling it up and over your head. “Or they’re good cold.” You tossed his shirt down to him and it landed on his outstretched hand. “But I think we were doing some quality nothing up there before I left, am I wrong?”

Nick dropped the shirt so that it dangled on the rickety railing, taking the steps two at a time. “Yeah, yeah I think we were.” I’m done for.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @thebbtongue @lexxierave @songtoyou @poindexted @thesumofmychoices@gollyderek @zaffrenotes @traeumerinwitzhelden @breanime @roses-in-your-country-house

#made man #nick tortano #by the gun fanfic #nick tortano x reader #nick tortano x you #nick smooches #kiss prompts #kiss requests #a kiss in the bedroom #for no reason #monday mornings #HAPPY MONDAY #atlantic bagel is legit fyi

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queenmylovely · 6 years ago

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Just My Luck; Part 5

Summary: John deacon x fem!reader. John and Reader spend the week together, exploring the city and getting to know each other in person. Throughout the course of the week, the tension builds...

Warnings: cussing, slow burn, some angst, kissing

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: She Is Long. But this is probably my favorite part I've written so far (including the stuff I’ve written ahead lol) just because you get to see so much of John and Reader’s relationship develop in really sweet, cute, and spicy ways. As always, feedback is loved and appreciated

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 (Epilogue), Masterlist

(let’s pretend this suit is gray and his shirt’s white and unbuttoned; this is what John wears to dinner on Friday)

(this is what Reader wears to dinner on Friday)

🍀🍀🍀

The rest of the week was wonderful, and you couldn’t believe how fast it went by.

On Sunday, John thought it would be best and easiest to go somewhere lowkey, so he took you to Hyde Park, spending the day walking through it. He was quite knowledgeable about it and gave you a good tour. About midday you had stopped and had a little picnic in the grass. This time, it was Johnny who found an excuse to feed you something, savoring the moment between you two.

_____

On Monday, Roger and Freddie decided it was their turn. They took you to Kensington Market, Johnny in tow. Wandering around the stalls, they showed you where they used to sell clothes before Queen was formed. Laughing and joking the whole time with the two lively boys, you noticed Johnny sulking a bit but every time you tried to check with him, he either brushed you off or you were interrupted by Roger and Freddie. During lunch, you fed him a couple of your fries since his meal didn’t come with any, causing Rog and Fred to share a surprised but cheeky look that neither of you caught.

That night, you decided to spend more time with Johnny since you almost hadn’t all day. You asked him to show you his bass and he was happy to. Set up in his bedroom with the door mostly closed, he explained to you how it worked and how he learned to play it. Sitting next to him on the bed, you were very aware of how close he was.

You found it really interesting and loved the way he talked about it with such passion. Getting up the nerve, you asked him, “Do you think you could show me how to play?”

“Yeah, of course!” he shifted and handed you the bass, helping you place it in your lap the way he had. It was heavier and longer than you thought, but with a little adjusting, you got it so it felt comfortable in your hands. Trying to show you how to hold your hands, he had to twist his arm uncomfortably over and under the neck of the bass.

You realized it wasn’t going to work this way and suggested, “Johnny, this isn’t working. I think- I think you should just sit behind me.”

He gulped and said, “I mean, if you think so. I could make this work.”

“No, it will be much easier on your arm and for me to see if you’re showing me from behind,” you reasoned, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at your own words.

He climbed around and sat behind you, legs spreading wide as yours closed, trying not to make each other uncomfortable with too much contact. Of course, there had to be quite a lot of touching in order for him to be able to reach the bass and see what he was doing. With his chest pressed against your back, he leaned forward to look over your shoulder, getting a faceful of your hair. He laughed awkwardly and moved your hair behind your shoulder, fingers brushing against your neck. His movement sent shivers down your spine, and you shuddered into his body.

He cleared his throat and said, “Okay, so if you put your fingers like this,” he positioned your fingers against the frets. “And your other hand can pluck the strings like this,” he said, showing you how to pull back instead of up on the strings. You copied his movements, albeit much clumsier, and produced a nominally similar sound to the one he had.

He kept showing you different chords and you got to the point where recognizable notes were being played. Soon, though, your fingers began to hurt due to the thick and abrasive strings.

“Ow,” you said, wincing and pulling your hands away from the strings. Johnny grabbed your hands and looked at them, seeing that the skin was an angry red from the friction.

“Sorry about that. I forgot how much it hurts when you start playing the bass. Mine have been callused so long I don’t feel it at all anymore,” he told you while examining your fingertips. You took your hands from his and grabbed his instead, turning them over and seeing the calluses he was talking about. You felt the hard skin on each finger then traced your nails over them, feeling the tough ridges underneath. He closed his hands over yours and you looked up at him. His head was tilted to look at you too, your faces mere inches apart. The look in his eyes was intense and compelling. Without your knowing, you started moving closer the same time as he did. You were breathing each other’s air, and the combination of that as well as your close proximity was making you dizzy. Just an inch away from each other now, the door swung open, accompanied by a talking Brian.

“Deaky, y/n? Are you in here-- oh, there you are,” he stopped, seeing how close the two of you were. As soon as you saw him, you turned and leaned forward over the bass as Johnny leaned back and started getting out from behind you. “I was just wondering if you guys wanted dessert. Rog brought some pastries from the bakery down the street,” Brian explained awkwardly.

“That’d be great! I love pastries!” you answered, probably a little too enthusiastically.

“Well, they’re in the kitchen,” Brian replied, turning and leaving as quickly as he could.

You turned back to Johnny, finding him standing just in front of you, motioning to grab his bass. “Why don’t you go and get a pastry. I’ll put away the bass, just save me one with chocolate,” he requested, still a little red in the face and not quite meeting your eyes.

You nodded and handed him the bass, leaving quickly and heading first for the bathroom. Once inside, you splashed your face with water as you suddenly felt way too hot. That wasn’t just my imagination, you thought. We almost just kissed. You shook your head and placed your hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating out of control. Trying to get yourself together, you took a few deep breaths and then headed to the kitchen, just in time to save Johnny that chocolate pastry and get a raspberry one for yourself.

For the rest of the night, you and John kept some distance and only got close for what was now your daily goodnight hug.

_____

The next day, you woke up to an empty apartment. This struck you as odd, but in the kitchen you found a note:

y/n-

Got pulled into the studio but should be done by 2:00 pm. Here’s a key if you want to leave before then.

-Johnny x

You took this opportunity to call Jeanne. When you had first called her from London and told her who John actually was, including the part about meeting all of Queen, she freaked out. (You had called your mom with the same news and all she had said was “That’s nice, honey.”) You had to hold the phone away from your ear for a solid minute because all she did was yell, “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Hoping that she was less excited this time, you dialed her number.

It was 8:00 am in London, so it was midnight in Seattle, and knowing Jeanne, she would definitely still be up. She answered right away.

“Hello?”

“Jeanne, it’s me,” you told her.

“Oh, hello, y/n! Called to tell me about your Queen escapades again?” she asked, eagerly.

“Not exactly. I actually wanted to tell you about something that didn’t happen but almost did,” you replied.

“That doesn’t sound ominous,” she remarked sarcastically. “What’s up?”

“I’m pretty sure Johnny and I almost kissed,” you admitted, quietly.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” she yelled, and you had to pull the phone away from your ear yet again. “What do you mean by almost??”

“Well, we were sitting on his bed and he was teaching me how to play his bass,” you started but were cut off by Jeanne’s snickers.

“I’m sure he was. Very necessary to be on his bed, huh? I see what’s going on,” she said suggestively.

“Jeanne, it wasn’t anything like that. He had to sit behind me so he could guide my movements.”

“Behind you!? Guide your movements?! Tell me you’re saying this just to mess with me. You can’t be that naive about how that sounds,” she implored.

“Get your head out of the garbage,” you scolded her. “Anyway, my fingers began to hurt because of the strings, so I stop playing and he looked at them. He told me about how his fingers are all callused now, so I looked at his fingers and the next thing I know, our lips are practically touching and I’m about to pass out from how overwhelming the whole thing was!” you exclaim, getting louder yourself as you tell the story.

“Oh, y/n. You really do get caught up in those sorts of things, don’t you. Just tell me this, why in the world did you not kiss him?” she asked, impatient for your answer.

“Brian walked in to offer us the desserts that Rog had brought everyone.”

“Oh, ha ha ha,” she laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, just Brian May, best guitarist in the world, interrupted me kissing John Deacon, bass playing rockstar, to ask us if we wanted cookies that Roger Taylor, oh I’m sorry, Rog, hottest man on earth, casually dropped off for everyone,” Jeanne said, mocking you, voice dripping with sarcasm and envy.

“Okay, well, I didn’t ask for any of this. And, just in case you didn’t get the memo, I’m freaking out over here!” you cried.

“Why oh why are you freaking out, dear y/n?” Jeanne said, with just the barest amount of seriousness.

“Because I almost kissed Johnny! That can’t happen. We can’t be together, we can’t ruin our friendship for just a kiss before I go back to Tournai and then Seattle for the rest of my life!” you explained, starting to breathe heavily.

“Hey, take a deep breath and try to calm down. I personally don’t see what’s wrong with kissing him and leaving, it’s not like you have to see him everyday, you can still write letters to him. Plus, if it leads to more action, you can always brag that you fucked a rockstar,” she reasoned, and you could almost hear the smirk on her face as she told you.

“You know I’m not the type of person that just fucks someone to fuck them. Plus, I’m not sure that if I opened that door I could ever close it,” you replied.

“Yeah, I know,” Jeanne sighed, sad that she wasn’t in your shoes. “I kind of don’t know what to tell you, other than if you don’t want to get into that situation, you shouldn’t kiss him. Maybe put a little distance, like physical distance, in between you two from now on,” she offered.

“I guess you’re right. I just hope it’s not too awkward or noticeable that I am. Thanks for the advice and for listening. You should probably get to sleep,” you reminded her.

“True. Just remember, I won’t judge you if you do decide to take things further. Just do what feels right, in more ways than one,” she replied, causing the both of you to laugh. The two of you said goodbye and you sat on the couch for another couple of minutes, thinking, before deciding to start the day.

On your own, you decided to go down to that bakery and get breakfast there since you had loved the pastries so much. Afterwards, you went for a walk and after a while, found yourself at the Natural History Museum. Wandering around the exhibits, you lost track of the time, and when you finally looked at your watch, it was half past 2:00. Realizing you hadn’t left a note and Johnny was probably back at his place by now, you went to the public telephone in the museum and tried your luck calling his number. He picked up on the first ring.

“y/n?” he said, before either of you even said hello.

“Yeah, Johnny, it’s me,” you replied.

“Are you okay? Where are you?” he asked nervously.

“Johnny, I’m fine. I’m just at the Natural History Museum. I got distracted by the exhibits and lost track of time. Sorry I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t expect to be gone so long,” you apologized.

“Oh okay, um, it’s fine. Sorry if I sounded freaked out, I was just a little worried,” he explained.

“You don’t need to apologize for caring about me, Johnny,” you told him.

He smiled at your words and offered, “I can come by and pick you up. I’ll be there in like five minutes and we can grab a snack.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait outside. See you soon,” you replied and hung up.

He took almost exactly five minutes and you hopped into the van. Giving you a bright smile, you could see the relief on his face.

“So, I can get a late lunch with you right now, but I’ll have to drop you back at the flat ‘cause I have to go back to the studio,” he told you with a sorry look.

“What? No, you have to take me there with you!” you exclaimed.

“Are you serious? Would you really want to go to the studio?” he asked, unsure.

“Of course! I could never forgive myself, and neither could Jeanne, if I didn’t take the opportunity to hear Queen recording in studio,” you replied. He chuckled at your words and accepted your request.

The two of you headed to Jimmy’s for a quick lunch, sharing an order of fish and chips.

After, he took you to the studio. Walking in, you saw all of the silver and gold records from other bands as well as Queen, staring at each one as you went by. John had to drag you away from them to go into the recording studio and meet the boys. As soon as they saw you walk in, all three of them stood up and rushed over to you.

“y/n!”

“What are you doing here, love?”

“It’s wonderful to see you here, darling!” Brian, Roger, and Freddie said, respectively. They all reached to hug you at the same time, ending up in one big group hug.

“I just had to see you guys in action. See the magic happen,” you explained, flattering them.

“Well, we’ve been waiting on Deaky to record his part, so while he goes and does that, you can hang out in here with us,” Freddie told you excitedly.

“You sure you’ll be okay with that, y/n?” Johnny checked with you.

“Of course. I’ll get to spend some time with the boys and will get to see you play for real, not just showing me a couple notes,” you reassured, laughing a little at how protective he was still being.

He nodded and then walked to the recording booth and took out his bass, tuning it a little. You were ready to watch him intently when Freddie interrupted.

“So, y/n, what’s this I hear about you and Deaky sharing a moment?” Freddie said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“I- what- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered as you tried to cover for yourself, feeling your cheeks get hot as your eyes got bigger.

“Oh, don’t try to deny it, love, Brian told us all about it,” Roger informed you to Brian’s dismay.

“What? Brian why would you tell them? There isn’t even anything to tell!” you questioned, glaring at him as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he said, finally glancing at your face. “They wanted to know why you two were acting so strange that night and it just slipped out.”

“This is so embarrassing! Nothing even happened,” you told them, covering your face with your hands.

“And why not? You know that Deaky’s a catch. It’s obvious that you two have feelings for each other,” Freddie tried to reason. “Don’t think we’ve missed all the other signs of physical chemistry.”

“What do you even mean? Physical chemistry?” you asked.

“Come on, y/n. The way you guys are always looking at each other, the goodnight hugs, literally eating out of each other’s hands,” Roger commented with a smirk.

“Not to mention the state I found you guys in during that ‘bass lesson,’” Brian joined.

You scoffed at their statements but found yourself thinking about it from an outside perspective. You knew that you felt something towards Johnny, whatever that might be, but you hadn’t really considered how he felt towards you. Looking to the recording booth, you could see him focused on the part he was playing. Almost as soon as you looked at him, he looked up and smiled at you. Smiling back nervously, you could feel your heart and mind starting to give into the idea of you and Johnny together.

The boys let you stay quiet throughout the rest of his recording session as you watched John, figuring that they had gotten into your head enough for one day. After John was done on his part, they all joined him and recorded the better part of a whole song together. Just watching gave you goosebumps. When they were done, you sang their praises, earning another group hug from them.

Driving back to John’s apartment that night, it was just the two of you. Brian, Roger, and Freddie all had dates or parties to go to, but you were happy to spend the time with John at his home.

He made grilled cheese for dinner, and although he called them cheese toasties, you were glad to have a reminder of home. Moving into the living room, he offered to play music and you gladly agreed. He walked over to their record player and collection of records, rifling through them to find a specific album. He picked one up, looked it over, and then smelled it.

You laughed and asked, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m smelling the record,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah I can see that, but why?”

“Haven’t you ever smelled a record?”

“I mean, I always thought they were more for listening, so no, I’ve never smelled a record,” you answered.

“Well, let’s remedy that right now,” he said and walked over to you, holding the record to your nose.

You grabbed his wrist to steady it and inhaled. “Mmm, it smells like old books,” you hummed.

It took him a second to respond because he was staring at your hand on his wrist. Clearing his throat, he said, “Yeah, um, that’s what I like about it.”

Releasing his wrist and instead grabbing the record, you saw that it was With the Beatles. “This is one of their older albums, right?” you asked him.

“Yeah, it’s their second one. I like this one because it reminds me of being a kid and just getting into music,” he replied and went to put the record on.

Throughout dinner, the two of you talked, mainly about the songs as each came up. He knew a lot about each of the songs. Who wrote them, who sang what parts, and what instruments they each played. It reminded you a lot of Jeanne.

As the album came to an end, he suggested that you go find another one to play. You walked over and examined the collection, “Wow, I’m surprised it’s arranged alphabetically,” you joked.

“Yeah, that’s all Brian and me. You should see Roger’s and Freddie’s. Absolute disasters,” he replied, and you laughed along with him.

You found what you were looking for and hiding it from John’s view with your body, you put it on. With the first note, he recognized it.

“Abbey Road, nice choice,” he told you.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you recognize the song, considering the bass. It’s my favorite album of theirs,” you explained, sitting back down at the table next to him. “Come Together” played, and the two of you reacted to all of the weird things that Lennon sang.

As it faded, you got excited, “The next one is my favorite. I love ‘Something,’” you gushed.

John liked seeing you so excited, watching you sway as the song started. Suddenly, he stood and reached his hand out to you with a sweet smile, “May I have this dance?”

You nodded, taking his hand and walking to the empty space in the room. He put one hand about six inches above your waist, always respectful, keeping a hold of the other as you placed your free hand on his shoulder. His arms were more outstretched, so he held you about a foot away from him. While you appreciated his respect for your space, you decided that wasn’t close enough. You began inching the hand that was on his shoulder around to his back as well as bending your other arm to close the distance. You did this until your bodies were touching and his hand had slipped down to your waist. Swaying together for a minute and stealing glances at each other’s faces, you hummed along with the song while he softly tapped out the rhythm against your waist. Feeling incredibly safe and happy, you maneuvered your body so you could rest your head against his chest. Following you, John leaned his head down so his mouth was next to your ear and his breath was tickling your neck. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest as well as his breath washing over you, you began to feel overwhelmed with what you hoped wasn’t love.

Doing your best not to freak out and trying to stay in the moment, you buried your face further into John’s warm chest. Your closeness and vulnerability captivated John and he found himself pressing a kiss to your hair.

All too soon, the song ended, abruptly waking the two of you from your reverie with “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.” You both laughed at the change of pace and disentangled yourselves. Instead of going back to the table, you sat on the couch next to each other. Again, you talked and listened to the album, only moving so that John could flip the record. When John came back to the couch and sat down, it was closer than before. This time, your arms were pressing against each other. With Side 2 of the record, both of you were more quiet. At one point during “Here Comes the Sun,” John lifted his arm and placed it behind you on the couch. During “Because,” it started slipping to the tops of your shoulders and you leaned into his side. By the time that “Mean Mr. Mustard,” was playing, your head was on his shoulder again, he was playing with the ends of your hair, and your hand was resting on his thigh. As the song went on, your eyes grew heavier and the two of you stopped talking. Blinking slowly, you were watching your own hand on his thigh tracing along the corduroy of his pants. You fully relaxed into him and finally fell asleep with the soft lullabye of the beginning bars of “Golden Slumbers.” John followed soon after.

When Brian got home and walked in, he saw your intermingled, sleeping forms and chuckled to himself. He turned off the long-finished album and tiptoed into his bedroom. It was the soft click of his door that woke you up. Breathing in deeply, you opened your eyes and found that you were almost completely on top of John. He had slumped down in his sleep, allowing you to lay pretty much your entire torso on him, with your arm thrown around his waist to keep you in place. His arm was around your own waist, and your face was completely pressed against his chest, while his was dropped down against your shoulder. Essentially, you were in the same position you had been while dancing, except this time, asleep on the couch. Cringing at your actions, you said a silent thank you that at least your legs were kept to yourself. You peeled yourself from the still sleeping John, and just as you fully extracted yourself, you saw his eyes fluttering open.

“Mmm, what time is it?” he asked you.

You looked at your watch and informed him, “Wow, already 1:00am. We’d better actually go to sleep.”

John nodded his agreement and got up to go to his room so he could change into his pajamas. While he was doing that, you grabbed the sheets and blankets that were folded on the armchair to set up the makeshift bed he slept on every night. Since he had given you his room for the week, you figured it was the least you could do. He was back quickly and the two of you looked at each other for a second before moving into your goodnight hug.

From your spot next to his ear, you whispered, “Goodnight, Johnny. Thank you for worrying about me today. I appreciate how much you care.”

John pulled back to see your face and when he did, you leaned forward, kissing his cheek. With that, you let go and walked to his room to get ready for bed, leaving him to whisper back softly, “Goodnight, y/n,” while reaching his hand up to the spot on his cheek you had kissed.

_____

Wednesday passed without too much happening. John had decided that it would be a good day for the more touristy things since it was the middle of the week, and the two of you checked off your list.

_____

On Thursday, John had to go back to the studio, but invited you along right away. You spent the day listening to and watching them work, even giving them advice or your opinion when they asked for it. There were a couple breaks when John was busy. During these, Brian, Roger, and Freddie invited you into the recording booth to play their instruments, teasing you and saying how they knew you just loved to learn.

Brian taught you basic chords on his guitar while standing next to you. Freddie taught you “Heart and Soul”, sitting on the piano bench together. But Roger had to lean over you to guide the drumstick in your hand as he taught you a simple beat. Each time this happened, John would come back while you were still playing, and whoever was teaching you would get an angry stare from him, especially Roger. They would quickly back off and you would go back to the control room to watch the whole band play together.

The work day finished at about 9:00pm, and all five of you went to dinner and drinks at a nearby pub, staying out quite late, but having a ton of fun all together. With the drinks in your system and the music playing loudly, you and John danced with each other again, getting handsier as the night went on. In the taxi ride back, you crashed, and John had to carry you up the stairs and into his room, tucking you in and kissing your forehead before going to sleep on the couch himself.

_____

Friday was your last full day there. You had to fly out Saturday so that you could prep for the next four weeks of teaching. This meant that you and Johnny were going to spend every possible moment together and he told you he was taking you to a special dinner that night.

During the day, you two walked through the streets of London, enjoying each other’s company and talking. Every so often, you would stop in a little shop to look around. In one shop, you found a ring that reminded you of Johnny. It was simple, just a silver ring with a flat circle on top, but you thought he would like it. You bought it while he was distracted by some slightly gaudy outfits he thought Freddie might like.

Back outside of the store, you revealed what you had done, “I got you something. Something to remember me by when I leave.” You took the ring out of the little drawstring back in your pocket and presented it to him. “Do you like it?”

“Of course, I love it,” he replied, switching his eyes back and forth between you and the ring. When he didn’t move to grab it, you took his hand, and tried it on a few fingers before deciding it fit and looked the best on the middle finger of his right hand. Once you were satisfied, he gave you a hug and thanked you.

The next couple of stores you guys went into, you saw him scanning the store like he was searching for something. Finally, four stores later when you were looking at the handbags for Jeanne, he found what he was looking for.

Just like you, he waited to show you. Seeing a park, he suggested walking through it and then relaxing in the sun for awhile. Once the two of you were seated, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what he had found for you.

“I got you something, too,” he said anxiously. He held it out in his hand and you looked at it. It was a ring, much like the one you had gotten for him. It was silver and had a flat circle too, but on that circle, there was a compass rose. This time, he grabbed your hand and slipped it on your left hand’s middle finger, saying, “So we can find our way back to each other.”

Your heart stopped at his words and you threw yourself at him in a hug. You had to kneel to be able to reach his neck while he sat, pulling him tightly into you as he did the same. You tangled your right hand in his long hair while the other was reached around to the right side of his neck and buried your face there, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t believe how close you two had become in just seven days in person, and you couldn’t imagine living life away from him as you were going to have to do in just a day.

“Oh Johnny, thank you,” you said through a choked sob, trying to hold yourself together.

John knew why you were crying and felt sad himself, but hearing your weak voice and feeling your repressed sobs against his body cause tears to start to prick at his eyes as well. He held you and rubbed your back and you collapsed against him, relying on his support. Through your cries that were muffled in his neck and hair, you could still hear his small sniffles and every so often, feel him swallowing hard to keep his own cries from spilling out. After a couple of minutes, his touch calmed you down, and you pulled away, laughing a little at the wetness your tears had left on his neck and chest. You rubbed your hand against his throat to dry it off a little until you felt his hands slide up your back. One reached the side of your neck and stayed there, the other coming forward to grab your to chin so you looked at him. With that same hand, he wiped the remainder of your tears away then rested it on your cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asked, searching your eyes and face for any more signs of despair.

You nodded against his hands and chuckled weakly, “Yeah, just really grateful for you.”

“Me too,” he replied, letting you go. He stood up and offered you his hand, pulling you up next to him. This time, he didn’t let go of your hand and continued to hold it as the two of you left the park.

He let you choose where to have lunch, and you decided on Jimmy’s, wanting to see the old man one more time before leaving.

That afternoon, you headed back to his flat to get ready for dinner. Johnny had told you to dress nice, and you were glad that Jeanne had convinced you to bring your nicest dress just in case. It was black, with a sheer pattern across your shoulders and neck, and chiffon bell sleeves as well as a flowy skirt after a tied waist. Getting ready, you put on a little extra makeup and did your hair half-up. Stepping out of his bedroom, you saw that all of the boys were there, you assumed because Brian had spilled the beans about the dinner, but your eyes were drawn straight to Johnny. He was wearing a gray suit jacket and pants, with a simple white button down underneath. He had left the first three buttons undone and you could see his collarbones and the top of his sternum easily, an intoxicating sight to say the least. Just outside of his room, you stood staring at him until Freddie looked over and saw you a minute later.

“Darling! You look absolutely gorgeous!” he exclaimed, drowning out John’s soft gasp and “wow.” Freddie ran over to hug you, but was careful of your makeup and hair. He led you over to the others, giving them a chance to greet you as well.

Brian smiled his kind smile at you and gave you a hug, saying, “You look beautiful, y/n.”

Roger took his turn next, kissing you on the cheek then whispering in your ear, “You’re gonna give John a heart attack, making him look at you in that dress all night.”

You laughed at his comment and hit him lightly on the arm. John squinted his eyes at the interaction, but forgot all about it when you walked over to him. “You look stunning,” he said softly.

“You look very handsome yourself,” you replied, confidently, masking the nervousness you felt.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded. He offered his arm to you and you took it, walking with him out the door, turning and waving as you went.

Once you two were out of the flat, Freddie said to Brian and Roger, “They grow up so fast,” receiving eye rolls from the other two.

On the way to the restaurant, you two sat silently, just listening to the radio play a song called “Silly Love Songs,” and humming along. After parking a little ways from the restaurant, the two of you got out and John offered his arm to lead you to it. He was taking you to The Ivy, a place that you had heard of even in Seattle, as it was always mentioned in magazines about celebrities. You walked in and John spoke to the host about your reservation, the man immediately leading you to a table/booth combo in the back left corner, allowing you two to be a little secluded. John let you have the booth side and took the cushy chair instead. After looking at the menu, you both ordered your food and then a sommelier came over and helped you pick wines that would pair well. You spent the meal talking and laughing, and, as always, shared each other’s food and wine to go with it. After a delicious meal and even better dessert, John paid, then you and he left, thanking the staff for the meal.

It was a beautiful night, and the two of you decided to go on a stroll. This time, you took his hand first, and interlaced your fingers with his own. In a couple minutes, you had reached the Thames and you were right by the London Bridge. Staring across the water, he put his arm around your shoulders and you put yours around his waist. You shivered a bit due to the breeze coming off the water and tried to nestle further into his warmth, but he pulled away. Confused, you looked up and saw that he was taking off his jacket. He wrapped it around your shoulders just like that first night. He let his hands rest on your shoulders, holding on to the lapels of his jacket.

You gave him a sweet smile. “Thanks, but you’re going to be too cold too with your shirt like that,” you teased, and reached up to button the lower two buttons that were undone. You moved your hands across his chest, smoothing out the fabric, and then up to the collar of his shirt. You fiddled with the collar a little, not looking him in the eye.

“y/n,” he murmured, and you looked up, making eye contact. His gaze was intense and you could actually see your own face in the reflection of his eyes. That reflection got bigger and bigger as you both started pulling lightly on the collars you were holding. Eyes flicking back and forth from each other’s mouths and eyes, the distance closed quickly, as if you were being pulled by magnets. In the last second, you realized what was happening and gasped nearly imperceptively, starting to panic. That panic, however, was washed away as soon as your lips touched.

The kiss was intense but slow, as if neither of you wanted to scare the other away with too much enthusiasm or movement. You poured everything that you wouldn’t or couldn’t say out loud into the kiss, feeling as though John was doing the same. Kissing him, you could feel that door you had mentioned to Jeanne start to open, and because of that, you felt yourself getting emotional again, your throat aching and eyes starting to burn. You knew you had to stop before you couldn’t. It took everything you had to wrench yourself from the kiss, just as John was moving his hands into your hair. Both his and your eyes snapped open, and you paused, panting slightly. You looked down but could feel his confused eyes on your face.

“I’m sorry, Johnny. That was- um- that was probably not the best idea,” you uttered, almost inaudibly. You let go of his collar and he dropped his hands to his sides from your hair.

“You’re right, I’m sorry too,” he replied, stepping away from you.

The two of you seemed to silently agree it was time to leave. Not talking, you walked back to the van. Again, the only sound was the radio, this time playing “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” by Elton John, according to the DJ.

You got back to the apartment, and again, it was empty. You gave Johnny back his jacket and let him go into his room to get ready to sleep. With what you knew would be your last good night hug, you held on to John as long as possible, pulling away only after he did.

Going to his room, you did your nightly routine and then laid in the dark, thinking. Your mind was stuck on the feeling of his lips against yours and how good it had felt. In the moment, most of what you had felt was sadness, but now you felt something else too, hunger. If you hadn’t been thinking about the consequences, you would have let it go much further. You thought about what it would be like to be with John, to let it go further, and began to feel heat low in your abdomen. Tossing and turning, it became unbearable to just sit and think about. You had to do something. Mind drunk with desire and inhibitions mostly gone, you got up and walked with purpose to the door. Taking a deep breath, you opened it and stepped back in shock. Standing right in front of it with his hand raised, ready to knock, was Johnny.

🍀🍀🍀

A/N: lol sorry for the cliffhanger. I hoped you like the tension that I built over the week so their kiss seemed inevitable. Btw, I’m going to be in Italy for the next five weeks, meaning I'll be at least 6 hours ahead of most of you (assuming you live in the U.S.). This will mean that I may post at some weird time like 7:35am on a Saturday. Who knows. If you want to be able to get a notification instead of hoping this will come up on your dash, just let me know in one of the ways below. Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @eylulclsr @roger1na @deakyfordays @painkiller80 @sunflower-borhap-boys @awkwardangelshezza @obsessedwithrogertaylor @bensrhapsody @tardisgrump @ahsoknarwhal @fatheadtheroger @happy-at-home @achallsplants @red-firelight @marvellouspengwing @randompotato1234 @windmeupandletmeplay @ixchel-9275 @s3venseasof-bri @1001-yellow-daffodils @imgonnabeyourslave @caffeine-girl @bestbuds55 @ceruleanrainblues

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lovehugsandcandy · 5 years ago

Text

Who Killed Jason Shaw? Chapter 4: Ximena (RoD, Colt x MC)

Summary: Ximena joins Ellie in scoping the crime scene.

Rating: R (discussions of death)

Pairing: Colt x MC, RoD

Length: ~2200 words

Ellie walked downstairs to the smell of coffee and sound of grease splattering on the range. No nightmares, again; maybe she was turning the corner. She was so sick of Shaw haunting her dreams, taunting her, threatening the people she loved. Maybe his death had freed her too.

She didn’t even need to say hello before her dad turned at her footsteps, plate in his hand. “Time for breakfast with your old man?”

“Always.” She followed him into the dining room to dig into the Ellie Special. “So...how’s work going?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Busy.”

“Busy with anything in particular?”

“Are you fishing for information?” His eyes narrowed.

She hung her head, contrite. “I wanted to know about Shaw, of course.”

“No news. ME thinks they can have a cause-of-death before the weekend, probably Friday.” Her stomach dropped. Three days. Three days to investigate. “If one of those punks did this, they’re going down.”

“Dad, they didn’t do anything!”

“Really.” Her dad dropped his fork onto the table. “You expect me to believe that a crew of known criminals, thirsty for revenge, didn’t take the opportunity to take him out?”

“They didn’t do it, Dad.” She leaned forward to glare at him; he peered back. She met his eyes head on, not daring to blink.

“Ellie....Have you- You’ve been investigating them, haven’t you.” It wasn’t even a question, a pointed statement that he spit in her direction.

“I have.”

“I told you to stay away from them! What are you think-”

She pushed her plate away, appetite vanishing. “And do you know what I’m finding? A bunch of teenagers who were targeted by a corrupt LAPD, half of them in hid-.”

“The Kaneko kid’s twenty, not a teena-.”

“I know damn well how old Colt is!” She pushed her chair back, the screech of tile loud in the room, and stood, eyes narrowed venomously at her dad.

He stared right back. “Is that where you’ve been going when you’re not here?” She froze. “When you leave when I head out on shift? When you say you’re sleeping over Riya’s?”

Ellie swallowed.

“Dammit, Ellie, he’s a criminal.”

She blinked back the tears behind her eyes. “He didn’t do this.”

“Then who did?”

“Isn’t it your job to actually find out? And not rush to judgement?” She left the rest of her breakfast uneaten as she fled, feet slamming on the stairs, back up to her room.

~~~~~

After her dad had left and she had finished her brooding, she headed out, driving down roads she had only been down a few times before, stopping on a deserted side street. She made sure to lock it and walked the few blocks, passing liquor stores and check cashing services before seeing the dim tattoo parlor, sandwiched in between a wig shop and an abandoned storefront, iron bars rusting in the windows.

Unlike the surroundings, the parlor looked neat and clean as she ducked in, bell cheerfully ringing above her head. “Hello!”

“Hi, sweetie.” A familiar voice called from the back and, after a few seconds, its owner emerged with a wide smile from down the hallway. Ximena was a sight for sore eyes, a towering gentle giant clad in a black tank; it was almost like no time had passed at all and Ellie was still a naive high schooler getting in over her head.

“X.” She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading ear-to-ear as she was bundled into a signature hug. “How are you?”

“I’m great. You? How’s school?”

Ellie could feel the tension in her shoulders lessen. “Good. I’m good.”

“Are those....” Ximena took her palm, carefully rotating her hand in careful fingers. “Are those tatoos?”

“Oh my God, no.” Ellie laughed, pulling her hand back and stuffing it in her pocket. “Temporary. Riya wanted to experiment; I think she’s jealous of the feather you did on me.”

“Ok. Because this is my full-time gig until Colt has the shop is up and running; you know you need to get all your tats from me!”

“I would never cheat on you, I swear.”

“Good.” Ximena’s face dropped in concern. “You know, I talked to Toby. He told me your dad thinks one of us killed Shaw.”

“Yeah.” And, the tension was back, fear creeping into her spine. She wasn’t a naive high schooler after all; a year later, she was in too deep. Again. “X, I’m scared.”

Ximena turned to her, eyes questioning in the bright light of the shop. “Of what?”

“What if-” Ellie let her breath out slowly between clenched teeth. “What if one of the crew goes down for this?”

“Oh Ellie...” She swept Ellie into her arms again, hands running comforting circles down her shoulder blades. “Do you really think one of us did it?”

“No. No no no but...”

“But it’s not the first time the cops lied to you?”

Ellie’s face fell. “Yeah.” She looked out the window, neon lights casting an eerie tinge on the pavement. “Exactly.”

“Do you trust your dad?”

“I trust that he will investigate to the best of his ability.”

“Then I think you need to trust that it will all work out.”

Ellie sighed. “Easier said than done.”

“Have you seen everyone else?”

“Not yet. I saw Colt and Toby already. I’m going to see Mona tomorrow cuz I need to return her car and Logan after that.”

“You borrowed Mona’s car?”

“Yeah, my dad’s crappy-”

The ringing of the phone interrupted the her sentence and Ellie mouthed an apology, grabbing her phone. “Hey, Toby.”

“Ellie! I am amazing! I am the Aragon of the internet! The Khaleesi of dragoning! The Bruce Wayne of-”

“Huh?” At Ximena’s confusion, she put it on speaker. “Toby, I don’t know what you’re talking about. And X is here.”

“Hi, X! Listen listen listen both of you...I was able to get into Jason’s bank info!!!”

Damn. Toby could get a spot on the force if he kept this up. “What did you find?”

“Listen, the night he died-” She could hear Colt in the background, voice raised. “The night he died, he was at the Tattle Tale.

“What? What? time?”

“Late. Looks like a little after midnight.”

“Police report said the crash was right after that, before 1.”

“Maybe he was drunk? Maybe-” There was a scuffle, a few curses; Ellie grimaced.

When she put the receiver back to her head, it was a new voice on the line. “Hey, El.”

“Hi, Colt.”

“Listen, you know how expensive drinks are there. There’s no way he was drunk off one beer.”

“Ok...”

“I think he was meeting someone.”

“Are you playing detective again?” She rolled her eyes. “I wanted you to stay out of it.”

Colt continued. “But if we could find out who he was meeting, then we have a lead.”

“We?” She furrowed her brow. “But you’re not-”

“Ellie, this could be your break! Don’t you want to see what we can dig up at the bar?”

“Urgh. Ok, Detective Kaneko. I’ll let you know if I need backup, partner.” She hung up the phone with a sigh and hung her head; she couldn’t help but feel like she was involving the people she loved further and further into this debacle.

The excited voice in front of her added to the feeling. “We should go check it out!”

“What?” Ellie’s face fell as she turned to Ximena.

“Let’s go to The Tattle Tale! I can take lunch now and we can head over and look for clues!”

“X, this isn’t a game!” Her voice was harsh, unexpectedly so judging by the way Ximena recoiled. “I feel like everyone isn’t taking this seriously! Someone could go to jail!”

X put her hands up placatingly, then moved closer to rub Elle’s arm. “I know, sweetie, I know. But if no one in the crew did it, then we should try to prove their innocence as best we can.”

Ellie blinked and nodded, slowly. “Ok. Let’s go.”

~~~~~

It was deserted when they pulled into the parking lot of The Tattle Tale and Ellie clambered out of Ximena’s electric car.

“No lights in the parking lot.”

“What?” Ellie looked over at her before glancing around. There were no light poles here though, at midday, it didn’t much matter; the sun shone so blindingly overhead, Ellie needed to shield her eyes to see.

“Well, Toby said he was here at midnight, right? It would have been dark in this parking lot.”

Ellie stared at her, eyes wide.

“Oh come on.” X groaned at her. “It’s not the first time I’ve cased a joint.” She took a few steps away from the car, turning in slow circles to see. “It’s only open for dinner apparently, but he would have come out here to get in his car and then....” She trailed off, looking at the road. “Where did he crash?”

“The 405. North of here.”

“On ramp’s right there.” Ximena pointed, curve of the pavement rising above the ground only blocks away. “So he drove over there, got on the highway, and crashed?”

“I guess?”

Ximena surveyed the ground around them. “When was the crash?”

“Early Monday morning? 1am?”

“Probably nothing left here then. Let’s walk over to the highway.”

“X, we don’t need to do that.” Ellie edged back to the car. “We really don’t need to...”

But Ximena was already heading out of the parking lot, calling out over her shoulder, “What could it hurt?”

Ellie threw her hands in the air before following, breaking into a run to catch up to the long stride. “What in the world are we doing?”

“Humor me.”

“Is everyone trying to be a detective?”

Ximena smirked. “I will if it will keep us out of jail.”

“X...” Ellie took a deep breath. “I have to ask...”

“I didn’t kill Shaw.”

“Do you have an alibi?”

“Sunday night? I was working late at the shop, a complex sleeve on a regular client. It was the third session; he’d vouch for me.”

Ellie’s shoulders dropped in relief as they neared the overpass. One less person for her dad to target.

“Look over here!”

“What?” She followed X as she walked over to the concrete barrier, pale concrete supports of the overpass towering over them. “What is it?”

“Look at this junk!” X stared down. “it’s like everyone who drives by just throws their litter here. Don’t they care about the environment?”

Ellie looked down, skeptically; it was a mountain of trash, an ocean of paper and plastic bags, cascading in waves behind the concrete. “Yeah. Apparently everyone who drives by eats Big Macs.”

“Oh my God!” Ximena grabbed her arm.

“What?”

“Sorry, I...” X threw her hand to her mouth to cover the giggles. “I saw that black hair and thought it was a dead body. But it’s a wig.”

Ellie blinked.

“There’s lots of random stuff over here. Lots of trash, ew, needles. Clothes....oh my God, why would there be clothes here?” Ximena wrinked her nose. “Oh, look, an old stop sign! I can add this to the decor at the shop!” She leaned over, peering intently at the mess.

“How do we know what is pertinent? I feel like this is just junk.”

“I have no idea.”

Ellie raked her eyes over the side of the road before looking up at the overpass, traffic booming overhead, road above her vibrating with the weight of the tractor trailers whizzing by. “You know what is actually pertinent?” X raised an eyebrow. “The LAPD didn’t come by to pick up any of this stuff. It’s not evidence.”

“True...”

“It’s just trash, isn’t it?”

Ximena laughed. “One person’s trash is another person’s treasure.”

“You’re taking that stop sign, aren’t you?”

“...yes.”

Ellie couldn’t help but join her laughter. “You do you, X. You do you.”

~~~~~~

By the time they made their way back to Inglewood and Ellie said her goodbyes, a huge hug and promise to visit during summer vacation, it was late afternoon. She sat in her dad’s car for a while, windows open, thinking, watching the sights and sounds of the city from her driver’s seat when the phone rang.

“Hey...” She couldn’t hide the fondness from her voice.

“Hey, troublemaker.”

“How are you?”

“A little disappointed that you have been visiting everyone but me, but I’m good.”

She laughed. “Who have you been talking to?”

“Toby.” His cough was strained over the phone line. “He filled me in. Ellie, you have to know that I didn’t-”

“Stop.” She looked out the window, past the storefronts, barely seeing them. “We shouldn’t talk about this here.”

“Ok but Ellie...you know I have all the motive in the world. But it wasn’t me!”

“I know, Logan. I know.” She brought her hand to her face to gnaw on a fingernail. “I’ll come see you, we can talk in person.”

“Ok...” He sounded dejected. “Stop by the shop on Friday.”

“Will do.”

Once she hung up and was alone with her thoughts, her mind wandered, away from her investigation, away from the detective work, to the past, thinking about all that she had gone through with the crew, all Jason had taken from them, all they had taken back. When she shut her eyes, she could almost see flames licking the sky and had to blink before they consumed her too.

#amy writes

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atc74 · 6 years ago

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It’s Always the Quiet Ones

Square Filled: First Kiss

Warnings: Shirtless!Sam, oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex (be smart kids), swearing, drinking, sexting

Summary: Y/N needs some help in her yard and Sam, a quiet coworker offers his assistance.

Pairing: Sam x Reader AU

Word Count: 2786

Written for: @spnaubingo

Beta’d by: the incomparable @evansrogerskitten, my continual smut-spiration. No writer was harmed, or contracted ecoli, during the writing or editing of this fic.

You stood at your kitchen sink, filling a pitcher with water to make a fresh batch of lemonade. The temperature was just over ninety degrees already and it was only two in the afternoon. You watched in awe as the man in your backyard shed his shirt, revealing a smooth chest, slick with sweat and a tattoo you didn’t expect. This nice, shy guy who you barely knew anything about was half naked, trimming the overgrown brush and weeds at the edge of your property. As you stood there, you felt the temperature begin to rise even higher, until the cold water ran over your hand and you realized you were staring.

Shaking your head to clear the unclean thoughts, you remeasured the water and returned to the task. You taste tested the final result rather pleased with yourself. You carried the lemonade outside and placed it on the table along with two glasses. You raised the umbrella to provide a bit of shade and a respite from the burning rays of the midday sun.

“Hey, come take a break. I made lemonade!” you yelled from the deck and his head snapped up, a smile on his face.

You let your eyes rake over his lean form as he used his discarded shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. He approached the wooden structure, taking the steps slowly; he looked tired. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you doing this for me, Sam? There are probably a hundred other things you could be doing with your Saturday.”

“Hey, I told you before, I don’t mind. I like doing manual labor; keeps my mind clear. By the way, thank you the lemonade, but could I trouble you for a cold beer?” A smile spread across his handsome face as he took a seat at the table, sighing in relief of being in the shade.

“It’s no trouble at all,” you replied, slipping back into the house, returning moments later with two beers, handing one over to him.

“Sam, do you know that I have known you for almost four years, yet know almost nothing about you?” You took the first pull off the beer and damn, did it taste good. “Beer taste so much better on a hot day.”

“Um, yeah. I don’t share much, do I? I’m just shy, but ask the questions you want to know the answers to,” Sam smiled.

“No, you don’t. You’re kinda quiet and reserved, but I think you like to have a good time. I know you are in your thirties, but are still younger than me and we’re practically neighbors. I don’t know what I want to know, so just tell me a few things about yourself,” you laughed.

The thing is, you were attracted to this quiet man. You had been for a few years now, but had always kept it to yourself for one reason or another. The other main reason, being that you had been married. You were not married anymore, but finding eligible men that you were attracted to was harder than you remember it being. But you worked with this man. Was that a good idea?

“So I have a brother, I love sports. I have a teenage son; it didn’t work out with his mother and I, but that was a long time ago. I enjoy relaxing weekends and cold beer and I like you,” Sam looked up from peeling the label on his beer and looked you in the eye.

You almost choked on the beer you had just taken a sip from. “Wh-what?”

“I’m sorry. I’m shy and I wanted to say something, but it never seemed like the right time. But I do,” he admitted, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Confession time?” You looked into the hazel eyes you had wondered about for so long. “I like you, too.”

You and Sam spent the next couple of hours looking out over your lawn and drinking beer. Sam stood, shaking out his shaggy locks. “I should really go. I’ll drink too much, then say too much, and I won’t want to leave.”

“Okay, drive safe and thank you again for helping me with the yard,” you stood to walk him out and he drive away. It didn’t matter, you would see him on Monday. At least this was progress; you had learned more about him in three hours, than you had in the almost four years you had worked together.

Thirty minutes later, you were stepping out of the shower when a new notification came in on your phone. It was Sam.

Sam: “Btw, did I tell you I think you’re sexy?”

You: “No, but I like your opinion…”

You smiled to yourself as you got dressed, not expecting his message at all. Then your phone dinged again.

Sam: “And your tattoos are hot!”

You: “Thank you, Sam. I like yours, too.”

Sam: “Can I ask you a question? When was the last time you were good and fucked?”

Now that took you by surprise. It’s always the quiet ones.

You: “Long enough. Are you drunk?”

Sam: “Drunk enough. I bet you taste good.”

Now you were the one blushing. Sure, you were attracted to him and you both had admitted that you liked each other. This escalated rather quickly, but you can’t say you were disappointed. It was going to be hard to hold in your personality with this one, so as not to scare him off.

You: “I do”

Sam: “Oh fuck”

You: “Goodnight Sam.”

The rest of your weekend passed quickly but calmly, spending a quiet Sunday reading. You didn’t give your text conversation with Sam another thought until you ran into him at work the following week.

“I can come by Friday after work and finish off that brush for you,” Sam offered.

“That would be great, Sam. I really appreciate it,” you said graciously. “Could I repay you with dinner?”

“Yeah, after a hard day’s work, I could eat,” Sam laughed and you parted ways. “I’ll see you Friday then.”

You left work a little early, stopping for groceries before going home. You chose a couple of nice New York strip steaks, some fresh veggies and a bottle of wine. Arriving home, you washed the vegetables in the sink only to look out the window to see Sam already hard at work in your yard, shirtless. You set the steaks off the side to come to room temperature, then quickly chunked the vegetables to grill, mixing them with some olive oil and light seasoning, then tossed them in the icebox before snagging a beer and heading outside to greet Sam.

“Did you work at all today?” You joked, handing him the beer and a towel.

“A little; the perks of ‘working from home’,” he air quoted with one hand, taking a sip from the beer.

“Let me get changed and I can give you a hand. I feel bad that you are doing all this work for me and I am not even really helping,” you commented. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he drained what was left of the beer.

“It’s good for me. Besides, no need for both of us to be all hot and sweaty,” Sam set his empty bottle on the table, winking at you before he turned back to the yard.

‘Oh sweet baby Jesus! Did he, Sam, just throw a sexual innuendo at me?’ you thought. You were suddenly quite warm, despite not doing anything. Well, if you count not staring at Sam’s half naked body in your yard.

Once in the safety of your bathroom, you splashed some cold water on your face, hoping to hell it would help cool you off some. Drying your face, you wandered into your room, pulling your work clothes off and looking for a pair of shorts and a tank top. You dressed quickly and laced up your tennis shoes in time to help Sam carry the remaining brush to the ever growing pile.

“I’ll have to have one heck of a bonfire once this is all dry!” you exclaimed.

“It sounds like a good time. I’ll be here,” Sam confirmed.

“It looks great, Sam. If it wasn’t for you, it’d look like I lived in a forest,” you complimented the hard work he had put in.

“It was nothing, Y/N,” Sam shrugged, slipping his shirt back on.

“Hey, why don’t I go round up some more beers, if you don’t mind getting the grill started?” You looked to Sam for confirmation. “The charcoal briquettes are in the shed.”

“For some reason I pegged you for a gas type of girl,” Sam smiled.

“Depends on what’s cooking and how hungry I am!” you laughed. “But tonight, no way am I putting New York strips on gas!”

Within a few minutes, you had the vegetables ready in the grill skillet and the steaks were seasoned, waiting to go on the grill, when Sam stepped into your kitchen from the sliding door.

“This looks amazing, Y/N,” Sam declared, setting his beer down on the counter. “What can I help you with?”

“You have done enough, Sam,” you said, grabbing some romaine to toss a quick salad. “Please just let me make you dinner to repay you.”

“I could think of a few other ways you could repay me,” Sam smirked looking you right in the eyes.

You felt that now familiar flush. It started with your face, creeping down your neck and into your chest. You felt it flow over your breasts, to your stomach and settling in your core. Just the thought of Sam’s hands on you had your panties turning damp.

“Yeah?” it was you could manage to say.

“Those strips look delicious, but I am willing to bet you taste better,” he slowly made his way around the island, stopping in front you.

“Hmmm,” you grunted, still not breaking eye contact.

“Those coals should take at least thirty minutes,” he theorized. “That should be more than enough time for me for me to make you come on my tongue...at least twice, possibly three times.”

“Oh Jesus,” you whimpered at the thought.

Sam’s hand grabbed your hips, pulling your shorts down and effortlessly lifting you onto the island. Your hands reached into his hair, pulling him closer to you, and you crashed your lips to his. The kiss was heated, heavy and perfect. The months of tension between the two of you, fading into that one perfect first kiss. Your tongues danced around each other, sliding, gliding, fighting for dominance. You tilted your head, deepening it as Sam reached down and with one hand, ripped your panties from your body.

Your parted from Sam, gasping at the realization that it was really going to happen.

“God, I can’t wait to taste you, Y/N,” Sam mumbled, his lips against the soft skin of your neck as he trailed kisses down your front.

Your hands remained tangled in his hair, the locks just long enough to provide purchase for what was coming as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his face now perfect level with your center. The kisses continued along the flesh of your inner thigh, then the other. Sam skipped over your mound.

He had barely touched you and you were already breathing heavy. The sheer lightness of his touch, the barely there breath of him tickling your skin as he made his way everywhere, except where he knew you wanted him.

“Sam,” his name was a breath on your lips. “Please.” You didn’t know if you were begging, pleading or praying he would give you want you wanted. What you needed. It had been too long and he felt too good.

“Say it, Y/N. Tell me what you want,” Sam’s breath ghosted over your mound, teasing you.

“Touch me, Sam. Taste me. Make me come,” you sang, finally feeling the wet muscle of his tongue dip through your sodden folds.

“You taste so good...better than I imagined,” Sam hummed his appreciation of your flavor, his words vibrating through you, twisting and turning.

“Oh God! Sam! Fuck!” The ripple, lapping at the edges of fantasy, quickly surging through the barrier, your orgasm breaking as you crested. You fingers wrapped tighter in Sam’s hair, pressing his face, flush against your sopping mound, prolonging your pleasure as you rode the waves.

“I can’t wait for dinner, Y/N. I need to be inside you,” Sam announced. “The next time you come, it’s going to be on my cock and I can’t wait to see you come undone around me.”

He scooped his hands under your ass, lifting you off the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, hands still in his hair. Between fevered kisses and nips to the exposed skin of his throat, you directed him down the hall to your bedroom.

He dropped you unceremoniously in the middle of your bed, where you quickly shed your remaining clothing, watching, staring in awe as he stripped himself bare. Your breath hitched in your throat as he stood naked and proud before you. His cock, beautiful and curved, thick and long, hung heavy and flushed between his legs. Sam was a perfect specimen of the male anatomy. More than that, he was naked and horny and wanted you.

In one fluid motion, he was on top of you, pinning you to the mattress, hands on either side of your head. “I’m gonna fuck you till neither one of can see straight.”

Wrapping one leg around his hip, ou used it for leverage, flipping Sam to his back, as you straddled him. His thick cock, trapped by the succulent lips of your pussy, gliding over him and slicking him up. “I’ll go first.” You rocked your hips started back and forth, tilting just enough that his tip caught at your entrance on your downswing. The initial breach had you holding your breath, hands braced on his chest for balance. “Fuck, Sam. God you’re so big!”

His large hands on your hips gripped tightly. You rocked again, taking him in a little further each time, until he was fully seated. “Christ, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N.” He breathed out, trying to center his energy so as not to lose it like a fucking teenager.

As pleasure starting flitting through you, you began to move. Forward and back, creating a rhythm. You clenched down around him with each drag of his cock on your inner walls. Turning into a steady beat, Sam’s hips rose up off the bed, meeting you stroke for stroke. His grip tightening, pulling and pushing.

“Fuck Sam!” you screamed, your vision filling with spots as your orgasm burst the seams. “Fuck!” You fell forward, your arms no longer able to hold yourself up.

Sam held you tightly to him, quickly flipping you under him. His strong arms grabbed behind your legs, pushing your knees up. He planted his own in the mattress and picked up the pace, pounding away. The sweat rolled down his face, nis neck, dripping down his chest as he fucked into you. “Oh Christ. I’m gonna come.”

“Come Sam,” you cried, digging your fingers into the firm muscle of his forearms.

“Ahhhhhhh!” Sam let loose, hips stuttering and slamming home one more time. “Fuck!”

You clenched your walls around him, milking him for all he was worth, Sam collapsing, mostly on top you. Your breaths were heavy, ragged.

“Wow,” Sam murmured, his lips sliding over the sweat slicked skin of your shoulder. “That was spectacular!”

“Yeah, it was,” you echoed.

“Think the grill’s ready yet?” Sam inquired. “I’m starving!”

“Yeah, I think we worked up an appetite alright,” you agreed, giggling slightly.

“What’s so funny?” Sam raised his head and met your eyes.

“I thought you were so mild, but just proves it’s always the quiet ones that surprise you,” you surmised, leaning in to kiss him. It was just as hot as the first kiss.

The Whole Enchilada: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99blog @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @kdfrqqg @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @blacktithe7 @the--blackdahlia @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @roseblue373 @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @paintrider13-blog @cherrycokegirls1

The Sam Sin-dicate: @supernatural-jackles @cameronbraswell @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x @alleiradayne

@stusbunker @mereka18 @wi-deangirl77

#spnaubingo #sam winchester x reader au #sam winchester #sam winchester au #sam x reader #sam x reader au #sam winchester smut #supernatural au #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn au fanfic

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ladyvialana · 6 years ago

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Fic: Friday Night Revelations - Ch. 6

Final Fantasy XV fic. band!AU, pre-relationship Prompto/Noctis

Chapter Summary: Noctis and Regis always try to make time for each other.

Chapter Notes: Noctis POV, Noctis & Regis father-son bonding

Also on Ao3

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The only reason Noctis was up before 10am on a Sunday and dressed in the sort of semi-casual clothes that wouldn't get him kicked out of a fashionable water-side restaurant was because of his father. Who was late. And leaving Noctis to the mercy of the small swarm of paparazzi that had got wind of their brunch date.

Good thing Noctis had something clean to wear and actually got up in time to do his hair.

Noctis kept his sunglasses perched on his nose and did his best to ignore the occasional snap as he lingered nonchalantly by the doorway to the old-fashioned building. The photographers were trapped by privacy and trespassing laws on the other side of the filigree iron wrought fence lining the entrance to the restaurant. A poised employee stood nearby behind a podium, waiting to escort Noctis and his delayed dining partner to their table.

The sudden increase of noise from the crowd on the street informed Noctis that his father had finally arrived.

A sleek black town car pulled over right in front of the entrance, where the photographers gathered. Regis opened the door and stepped out with a charming smile. He was dressed in one of his many suits—grey this time, with pinstripes, and a dark blue tie. He tapped on the top of the car with his ever-present cane and his driver pulled back out onto the road and drove away.

Though he didn't deliberately pose for photographs, he did nod to the small crowd and take his time walking to the gate, answering all questions posed to him with a simple, "I'm just here to meet my son for brunch. Any questions you have regarding my work or the artists I promote can be addressed to my agency."

A few tried to inquire further about the brunch date, asking pointed questions about Regis and Noctis' personal life that Regis ignored entirely.

Noctis tucked his phone away and wandered down towards the gate while this was going on and met his father as he walked in.

Regis' charming smile turned warm and familiar as he looked at his son. "Good morning, Noctis. You look rather nice today."

Noctis ignored the teasing jab he knew was as much for the paparazzi still lingering nearby as it was a comment on the fact that his buttoned-up black shirt was actually ironed for once.

Noctis pushed his sunglasses up onto his styled hair. "Hey dad." He reached out and wrapped his arms around Regis' shoulders, oddly comforted by the fact that his father was still taller than him even with his posture slowly worsening due to his cane and limp.

Regis returned the embrace, pulling Noctis in as close as possible with one hand cradling the back of his head. "Thank you for making time for me."

Noctis pulled back, fighting the smile he wanted to show. "I should be the one to say that."

Regis winced. "It has been a rather busy few months."

"For both of us." Noctis cocked his elbow out and Regis laid his hand on it, tucking his now unused cane under his arm, as they made their way into the restaurant.

"Ah yes, how were your exams?" Regis asked as the server led them inside and through the small restaurant to the tables on the balcony overlooking the water.

Noctis shrugged. "About how I expected." He pulled his father’s seat out as they reached their table then took his own. "I'm topping the composition class."

Regis smiled, delighted. "Noctis, that's wonderful! I'm incredibly proud of you."

Noctis ducked his head at the sight of his father's joy. "It's my favourite class," he said, trying to downplay the achievement.

"I'm not surprised." Regis chuckled. "You've always had a knack for tinkering with songs and playing with structure."

Noctis smiled down at his menu, embarrassed and pleased by the attention. "How's that new singer working out?" he asked, changing the subject.

Regis sighed. "The album is taking a bit longer than we'd hoped," he admitted and started explaining the situation with the young singer and the clash with her assigned producer and manager.

Noctis sat up and listened intently to his father's stories. Regis did the same when he found a way to segue back to Noctis.

They ordered a pot of tea to share and their usual breakfasts—Noctis a pile of bacon and pancakes and Regis a healthy omelette with chilli.

Despite the time spent apart, their conversation didn't feel stilted. Regis gesticulated wildly with his fork whenever he got excited and he chided Noctis for speaking with his mouth full. Noctis laughed easily, his smiles coming more naturally now that he wasn't being observed and whispered about by strangers looking to make money from him. They teased each other about silly familiar things like Noctis' overuse of syrup and the way Regis cut his food into minuscule pieces.

It felt like only days had passed since they last saw each other, not months.

They lingered after finishing their food, conversation still flowing strong, and ordered more drinks. A dark roast this time for Regis and a sweeter cappuccino for Noctis.

"Are you enjoying living with your new roommate?" Regis asked.

Noctis took a sip, considering his answer. He hadn't lived with anyone aside from his father (and mother) before this time with Prompto. Sometimes he had stayed with the Amicitia family when Regis was away with work when he was younger and occasionally Ignis would come over for a night or two, but it had been at least a month now living in a shared space with Prompto.

"Yeah," Noctis said, frowning as he drew out the word. "It's different, but it's good."

"Not at each other’s throats then?" Regis watched his son over the rim of his cup.

Noctis shook his head. "We were both a little worried at first, I think. Moving in with your best friend—it sounds great, right? But what if you start hating each other after like a week. It wasn't like that with us but ..." Noctis trailed off, frowning.

"But?" Regis prompted him.

Noctis shrugged, sliding down in his seat. "It was weird. Prompto was acting so timid. Like he didn't want to take up too much space—which, you know, before he moved in, he left his stuff everywhere. Half of the shirts in my wardrobe were his." Noctis sighed. "He got over it, I guess. I might have kept telling him that it was his house now too, he was allowed to make a mess so long as he helped clean it up. Must have sunk in. He’s still a little quiet sometimes."

"Give it time. It's better that you're both trying to be considerate of the other."

"Yeah, you're right. And maybe it's just because those first few days were spent rearranging everything too. We didn't get much time to just hang out like we normally did or work on any music until like a week later."

Regis hummed excitedly. "Ah, yes. Your musical endeavours. How is that going?" He leaned forward, eyes almost sparkling with eagerness to hear more.

"Actually ..." Noctis looked away from his father and started fidgeting with a stray napkin. "I wanted to ask you a favour." His eyes widened as he realised how that sounded and his head whipped back to his father in panic. "Not like a favour favour. Just like a dad favour."

Regis smiled. "I'm more than happy to help, as your father. Though I hope you know that if you did ever need any professional assistance you could always call me."

"I know, but I like doing things this way." It was genuinely comforting to know his father supported him, but Noctis really wanted to see what he could do on his own. "Besides, I don't think we're at that point yet. I still can't even get up on stage, which is probably more important to work on."

His father, better than anyone, knew how much Noctis hated being the centre of attention.

"You're not entirely wrong I suppose."

"That's kind of what this favour relates to." Noctis reached into his pocket for his phone. " Hammerhead has an open mic night every Monday. Prompto and I are aiming to get up one week soon just to see how we go. We've got a few songs prepared, but I just really wanted an outside opinion on the one I was going to perform by myself."

He flicked through his screen to find his recording app and lined up the song they'd recorded the night before. He slid his phone over the top of the table to his father.

Regis smiled as he picked up the phone and pulled out a set of earbuds from his jacket pocket. "I'm honoured to be the first to hear it."

Noctis looked away again. "It’s not completely finished or polished, but be critical anyway.”

Regis slipped the earbuds in and tapped the play button on the phone.

Noctis couldn't watch his father’s reaction—or, considering that his father was a professional, his non-reaction. He turned away to stare out at the water instead.

Seagulls dove over the sparkling water of Insomnia Bay and white sails dotted the horizon. The sound of the birds calling and gentle waves lapping against the wharf were calming. It was a beautiful cloudless day, if a little chilly. Noctis was glad for his jacket, even if the midday sun was hot on his neck.

Noctis finished his cappuccino as he watched a long yacht glide over the bay to dock nearby.

"Noctis."

Noctis looked over at his father, trying to read his face for anything.

"This is genuinely impressive."

Noctis let out a heavy breath. "Really?"

Regis nodded. "It's a beautiful song and both you and Prompto perform it well." He wasn't smiling, but somehow that made his praise feel all the more genuine. "As you said, it's unfinished. I think you need to work on the bassline and maybe add another instrument. It feels a little lopsided."

"I have a piano score written, but I was having difficulty threading it into the piece without it overshadowing the lyrics."

"Yes, I can see how that might be difficult. But the piano is a good idea to make the song feel more balanced." Regis tapped at the table. "Do you have any plans to involve other people in this?"

Noctis frowned. "Like, a manager?"

"Like more band members."

"I hadn't really thought about it." Noctis looked back out at the water, thinking it through. Part of him hated the idea of involving anyone else (look at what happened with Dino) yet his father always gave him good advice. Plus, he and Prompto couldn't play all the instruments live. "Maybe."

Regis nodded, knowing that was the best he would get from Noctis at this point. "Perhaps that's an idea for another day. For now, I think you should perform this song. It's more than good enough for an open mic night if you’re playing solo with your guitar. And, you might be surprised how helpful performing in front of strangers is for your creative process."

"Yeah, okay." Noctis smiled. "Thanks dad."

Regis reached over to put his hand over Noctis', sitting on the table. "I am so proud of you, Noctis. Your mother would be too."

Noctis smiled at the praise, hoping he could continue to live up to it.

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#fanfic #ffxv #ffxv fanfiction #noctis lucis caelum #regis lucis caelum #au #band!au #vialana's fic #friday night revelations

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ficbynic · 7 years ago

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T A K E C A R E - Chapter 9 - North Hampstead

Are you still sure you don't need the ride tonight?

I am, it's fine, I could use some fresh air. I'll be there at around 7:30 if that's okay?

Great! I just got home. By the way, the code to open the gate is 1-9-7-3-5-5. Then it beeps. Then it's 0-1-0-2-0-3.

Alright, thanks

See you tonight .x

Story page (Catch up!) | Author | Talk to me | Read on Tumblr only.

Monday evening, a quarter to seven. After what seemed like an eternity, Emilie's day had finally come to an end. It was Emilie's first day taking care of Charlotte as well as Denise full-time, since Denise was out of school because of her half term holiday, and it had been a wild ride to say the least. By eleven in the morning, Emilie was already exhausted. It was only today that she realised that having Denise around cost way more effort than having only Charlie. Charlie was quite independent and loved playing alone with her dollies or her puzzles or her miniature buggy, running around the room. Denise, however, needed every ounce of attention she could possibly get. Not five minutes had passed without Denise needing help, asking for something, complaining about something, or simply demanding Emilie should participate, and frankly, it tore Emilie down. It felt like instead of a day, a week had passed when Emilie got the girls out of bath in the evening, and Catherine came home from work. For a change, David was there, as well, arriving home just a few minutes later. They probably could sense that Emilie had a rough day and she wasn't in the best of moods, but Emilie didn't care. If anything, it gave her a valid reason to leave the main house ASAP and relax in the privacy of her own space after a long, draining day. Coincidentally, Harry just texted her the minute she arrived back in her room, asking her if she'd already survived her first full day of having both girls around all day long. When Emilie replied she just got back to her room, her phone suddenly starting ringing, indicating Harry's incoming call. Emilie kicked off her boots and let herself fall down on her comfortable bed in her semi dark room, not even having the energy to put on all the lights, as she talked to Harry over the phone for a while before the conversation took a random turn. "How much do you get a week?" "One hundred Pounds," Emilie answered. "What?" "What?" "You work twelve hours a day! Five days a week!" "Yeah, well, eleven, mostly. With a break when Charlie's sleeping, normally. But, yeah." "For just a hundred Pounds a week!" This wasn't Harry being a snobby millionaire who wouldn't get out of bed for that amount of money. This was just Harry being reasonable, knowing what minimum wage would be and realising Emilie wasn't getting anywhere near. She was probably getting less than two Pounds an hour. "It's not that bad! I'm an au pair, it's not a proper job, I work in exchange for a place to live. What they give me is pocket money I could spend on the weekends." "But-" "It's not unusual for au pairs to get this kind of money," Emilie chuckled, "It's actually the average weekly pay. Besides, David and Catherine are quite generous. Whenever I have to babysit in the evenings or, you know, help them out on the weekends, they give me more. I can use their Oyster card if they don't need it, as well. It's not too bad." "Still. You work very hard," Harry stated. "Well, I am this week." Emilie was referring to the fact she had to take full care of Denise now, as well. "You are every week." "Yeah, but I knew I wasn't gonna make any cash of this. Me coming here was never about working to earn money. It was about getting away, trying new things, getting out of my comfort zone. And getting to know a new city, a new culture, new people..." "So what time do you think I could pick you up tomorrow evening?" Harry then asked. "Pick me up? I thought we were having dinner at your house?" They'd texted earlier in the day to set up a time. Tomorrow evening was the only night that worked for the both of them if they wanted to see each other before the weekend. "We are, but it's quite the walk, isn't it? Especially after a long day's work." "It's barely fifteen minutes," Emilie laughed. More than anything, she was used to walking long distances now. Since she'd been in London, she'd never walked this much in her life. Her daily routine included the walk from the house to Denny's school and back, then often from the house to a nearby play group, then back to Denny's school and back to the house, not mentioning the occasional trips to nearby shops or playgrounds. On a daily basis, she'd walk for hours, pushing a heavy stroller, as well. Not even considering that compared to her home country Denmark, London was hilly as hell. Before she arrived, she wasn't expecting to be surrounded by hills and rising ground everywhere she went. "It's more like twenty. A little over twenty when I checked the other night." Emilie knew he meant last Saturday when he had to walk all the way back after they went out in Golders Green. "About that..." she started, not sure if she was going to regret bringing it up later, "I wasn't anywhere near drunk Saturday night..." Harry paused before he answered, sounding as if he sported a puzzled look on his face. "I knew you weren't." "Good. Because the text I sent-" "Oh!" Harry then began to laugh. "You didn't mean to send it to me, did ya?" "Not exactly, no," Emilie admitted, smiling. "I know you didn't. I was just messing with you." Emilie sighed and groaned in frustration. "The funniest part was that you didn't even bother sending anything back after I replied." "I... I didn't know what to say, I-" Harry's laughter interrupted her. "Glad to know you find it hilarious." "So what did you and the girls do all day?" he changed the subject, "Did you manage to keep them busy?" "Can we not talk about my day, I want to forget it all," Emilie replied, switching positions in bed, burying her face into her pillow. "Was it that bad?" "I'm just so... fucking... tired." "Then go to sleep, who cares if it's only seven o'clock. I bet you'll sleep through the night." "That might not even be a bad idea," Emilie thought out loud. She wasn't able to remember the last time she went to bed early-early. "Alright, I will let you go now, then." "Why were you calling me anyway?" Emilie stopped him from ending the phone call, "Don't you have a big show to prepare for?" "I just... I thought I'd check up on you. See if you survived today," Harry spoke. "That's kind of you." A few more minutes of talking went by. Emilie could tell Harry was making his way around the place, entering and leaving different rooms, the sounds of his surroundings altering every other while. They talked some more about the show tonight and seeing each other again tomorrow, before the call eventually came to an end. "You go get some sleep," Harry said. "Alright, I'll try. Have fun tonight." "Thanks. And thanks for calling." "You called me, Harry." "Right. Thanks for... Thanks for talking, 't was nice." Emilie frowned, suddenly hearing a bunch of people speak up again in the background. It seemed like he was in a crowded room, perhaps being watched and overheard while he was on the phone. "Alright." "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Harry sounded again, the tone of his voice indicating that he was smiling. "Yeah." "I'll text or call ya." "Alright." "Bye, sleep well." "Okay, bye, have fun." "Byeeee." Wondering whom Harry was currently with and if they caught anything of the phone call he just ended, Emilie got up from bed, rubbing her eyes as she was getting used to the lighting after stepping into her brightly illuminated en-suite. It felt weird to get ready for bed when Harry was getting ready to perform in front of thousands of his fans. But still, Emilie did, getting comfy in het pyjamas after taking a shower and eventually falling asleep before Harry's show had even ended. ~~ On Tuesday, Emilie set up a play date with a girl from Denise's class and her little brother, who was just a tad older than Charlotte. They stayed at their house for most part of the morning and the kids were enjoying themselves. More importantly, Emilie was enjoying herself; talking to the kids' nanny she'd gotten to know from waiting around Denise's school every morning and afternoon, and having cups of tea while watching the children play independently. After lunch and after Charlie finished her midday nap, Emilie could already sense that Denise required a lot of attention again. Because Emilie was desperate to have a bit of time to herself and simply couldn't handle a repetition of the day before, she allowed the TV for the afternoon. Denny and Charlie were ecstatic because they didn't get to watch telly that often, and were behaving well, sitting on the sofa snacking on pieces of apple Emilie had given them, watching the screen attentively. After half an hour, Charlie lost interest and made her way to the front room to play with her Peppa Pig characters, but at least Denise was still occupied watching Madagscar 3: Europe's Most Wanted, quietly sitting on the sofa. It gave Emilie the perfect opportunity to check her phone before she had to focus on preparing the girls' tea. She messaged home, and went to check what Tilda had been up to today. They hadn't spoken since Sunday. It was around the same time when Harry texted. Are you still sure you don't need the ride tonight? I am, it's fine, I could use some fresh air. I'll be there at around 7:30 if that's okay? Great! I just got home. By the way, the code to open the gate is 1-9-7-3-5-5. Then it beeps. Then it's 0-1-0-2-0-3. Alright, thanks See you tonight .x An hour or two later, Emilie let out a sigh when she all of a sudden realised she was getting a bit nervous. In general, she felt fine; more excited than anxious to see Harry again, but when she thought too much about what was all happening right now... Harry Styles gave the code to the gate to his house, for her to use to enter. They were going to have dinner together tonight. It was like a proper date. "I'm actually almost done," Denise meanwhile commented dramatically, her little eyebrows raised and her London accent thick. She was referring to the nearly empty plate of foot sitting in front of her, before comparing it to someone else's. "Emilie, look, Charlotte's not even eating!" The four year old was correct. Her little sister was sitting in her high chair, mostly playing with her food instead of bringing it up to her mouth to eat. "Charlie, don't make such a mess, please," Emilie warned, watching the little toddler using her little plastic knife and fork only to move the food around on her plate. She could be quite fussy during dinner, always leaving her vegetables untouched. Carbs were fine, though. Charlotte loved her pasta and potatoes. Now, however, she didn't seem to feel like having dinner at all. "There's only yoghurt for dessert if you girls finish your plates." Charlotte wasn't having it, though. She seemed to be in a bad mood, frowning her brows, her lips a tight line. Emilie moved her seat towards Charlotte's high chair to help her eat, bringing the fork up to Charlotte's mouth. The first bite went alright, but when the second came, she moved her little arm up and swatted the fork away from her face. "Charlie, no!" The risotto Emilie prepared because Denise specifically asked for it went flying, ending up on the floor beside the dining table. "We don't throw our food on the floor!" Emilie raised her voice. It actually really pissed her off. She'd spent a lot of time preparing dinner; she wasn't going to let it go to waste by a moody toddler. Charlotte looked up and understood she was being told off, but didn't seem that impressed by Emilie's harsh tone. Instead, she was still furrowing her brows, bringing her hands up to her eyes to rub them. Emilie tried to calm herself down again, reminding herself that Charlie was just tired. After all, she was just as unfamiliar with having Denise around all day as Emilie was herself. ~~ Catherine was home by a quarter to seven. Emilie had the girls ready and downstairs by six-thirty, in case either Catherine or David was home relatively early. She was glad she mentioned to Harry she wasn't going to be at his before seven-thirty, so she bought herself some time. "Have you already eaten, Emilie?" Catherine asked, fumbling in some drawers in the kitchen, probably searching for something to prepare to eat. "No, actually, I am going out for dinner in a bit," Emilie sort of lied, the words leaving her before she thought twice about them. She'd realised before that using the English language, it seemed easier to be a bit of a fibber. Maybe it was just easier to tell little white lies while not speaking your mother tongue. "I'm meeting up with Tilda," she then fully lied, again not knowing why she was bothering. She could easily tell Catherine she was just going to have an early night in her room, but something about telling her that felt wrong, as well. "That's fun," Catherine replied, "You're free to leave, don't feel like you should wait around." Emilie awkwardly got up from her seat at the dining table and made use of Catherine's offer. She said bye to the girls, Charlotte looking a bit bemused, normally having gone upstairs already before Emilie left the house. "See you tomorrow, girls," she waved, "Bye Charlie!" "Bye-bye," Charlotte then smiled and Emilie's heart grew twice in size as she grabbed her coat, fished her keys out of the pocket of it and exited the house using the front door. It was crazy how that little girl could get into her hair and then be so adorable, only an hour later. Arriving at her room, Emilie had little under half an hour before she had to leave in order to be at Harry's at half past seven. She changed her shirt, which was more of a basic necessity than a superfluous luxury. Little Charlotte would often grab it when Emilie was carrying her, wiping off her dirty hands on the fabric. Not to mention the stains she would leave when burying her face into Emilie's shoulder or chest area. Emilie's clothes had often been stained with tears, dirty water from the bath, among other things Emilie didn't even want to think about. Emilie therefore opted for a clean pair of jeans, as well. The light washed grey ones went well with the black and white striped jumper she just put on. She then touched up the little makeup she wore. Just a little mascara and eyeliner. She put lip balm on her lips and added a few sprays of her perfume on her wrists and neck, hoping it wasn't too obvious, simultaneously hoping Harry would notice she put in a bit of effort. Looking in the mirror, she didn't really think she looked that great. She looked rather tired and, in a weird way, older than when she was still at home in Denmark, as if the month of her being here in London had already taken its toll on her. Truth be told, she looked a bit drained. Oh well. Maybe it was because her appearance simply wasn't that important to Emilie anymore since arriving here. She had more vital things to worry about now, taking care of two little girls. She didn't care that sometimes, she chose an extra fifteen minutes of sleep in the morning over her makeup routine, which meant she would spend the day bare faced, at least until her lunch break. She'd also given up on taking care of her hands and nails weeks ago. Before leaving home, she was used to having long natural nails, always perfectly manicured. She cut them for London, long nails not the best thing to be dealing with when working with kids, and, like she expected, they never really grew back to their original length because they had simply broken off before they got to that stage. Emilie now just made sure they were kept short and tidy. She didn't bother with nail varnish anymore. Emilie stepped into her high heeled ankle boots, wrapped a big scarf around her neck and put on her coat at around ten minutes past seven. Her hands were in her pockets on the way over, until she arrived at Harry's house and had to collect her phone and open her messages with Harry for the code to the gate. When she'd first read the numbers, they seemed to be a random selection. Standing in front of his gate and entering the code, however, they made more sense and made a funny little pattern. Just like Harry explained over text, there was a low beep coming from the gate after Emilie entered the first series of numbers. She then quickly entered the second run and the gate buzzed again and clicked open. Making her way down the gravel driveway to the front door, she figured he must've left it open if he gave her the code to his gate. Reaching out to the door knob and turning it, the door indeed opening, it turned out she was right. All of a sudden, before realising it, she was stood in Harry's hallway and the reality of the situation kicked in. Emilie was glad to notice that any tension or nerves had completely left her body. She knocked on the door to what she assumed was the living room before fully opening it, her head poking out. "Hello? Harry?" "Hiii," she heard Harry call, "Come in, I'm in the kitchen." Entering the living room, Emilie was overwhelmed. Not only did she step foot into a giant living space, everything was extraordinarily beautifully decorated, as well. She followed the sound of Harry's voice. She turned a corner to find the kitchen and saw him standing near the stove. "Hi," he greeted her with a smile on his face. A tea towel was draped over his shoulder. The only thing keeping him for resembling a proper chef was an apron. "Are you cooking?!" Emilie's eyebrows raised, forgetting to say hello. She didn't know what she was expecting exactly, as she knew they were going to have something to eat at the house, but she wasn't expecting Harry to go all out and cook a full dinner for the both of them. She would've thought they'd order in. "Yeah?" Harry replied as if it was only natural. "What are you making? Can I help?" "No, no, no, you've had a long day. You've probably done enough of this. Sit down," Harry pointed at the bar to the side, separating the half-open kitchen from the rest of the living area. "How are you doing? What would you like to drink?" "Uhm-" "And don't act like you wouldn't like a glass of wine." Emilie laughed. "If we're having wine, please also get me a glass of water, because you'll literally have me drunk within minutes." "No, I won't. I know you take alcohol quite well." "Not when I haven't eaten yet." Emilie raised her brows, looking at the space between where she was currently sitting down on the bar chair and the hard wooden floor, "I'll literally fall off this stool." Harry laughed. "Your house is incredible, by the way." "You like it?" he asked, raising his voice a bit to make himself audible over the sounds of the kitchen appliances. "It's amazing." Harry didn't elaborate and grabbed a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses out of a cabinet, opening the bottle like a pro and pouring the deep burgundy liquid. "So. How was your day?" Emilie couldn't help but inhale and exhale deeply before answering. "It was a lot," she then smiled. "It's just still so..." She looked around her before focussing on Harry's face again. "It's a lot." "Go on," he chuckled. "I mean, sometimes I lie in bed at night and think about the day and I'm like, did that happen just this morning or was it yesterday already? You know what I mean?" "Yeah," Harry said, "It's just 'cos you're so bloody busy and it's every day chaos." "It truly is," Emilie agreed and smiled. "It's madness, but how were your shows!?" she altered her voice, changing the subject. "Oh, great," Harry beamed. "They were amazing. Really good fun." "Must be fun to play here in London." "It was. We played this really amazing venue, the Hammersmith Apollo. It's this really old, beautiful place with a lot of history. It was great to play there." "Cool," Emilie said, not willing to let him know she made a little detour on Sunday just to get a view of the place his shows were at. "Yeah, it was amazing. Kind of feels like a home crowd, you know. We have a show in Manchester tomorrow. I wonder what that's going to be like." "Ahh, nice. Is your family coming?" "Yeah." Harry made his way back to the stove and started stirring in a pan. "Makes me a bit nervous, to be honest. But it's good, it will be good." He returned to the bar a few seconds later, his palms on the marble table top that separated him from where Emilie was sitting, while she took the first sip of her water. "I'm actually staying at my Mum's after the show, I'm not coming back to London. On Thursday, we'll be in Glasgow, so." Luckily, Emilie's geographic knowledge was sufficiently developed to get his point. She understood it was easier for him to stay up north. "Oh shit, my curry," he then went when he heard a simmering sound coming from the stove, quickly returning to his pan of food. "Are you sure I don't need to help you?" Emilie offered. "No, it's fine, I started a while ago, it should be nearly done. Figured you'd be hungry." Emilie smiled, got up from the bar chair nonetheless, and made her way around the bar and the kitchen island to where Harry was standing at the stove. "What're you making, then?" "'ve Got some chicken curry. With some veg. You like that?" "Yeah, sure, it smells amazing." ~~ The dining table was fully set already, a crispy white tablecloth covering it. Emilie made a mental note to be careful and not spoil any bits of her food on the fresh and clean fabric, as Harry was making his way to and from the kitchen with the filled plates. It would be disastrous if she'd suddenly turn into a sloppy eater in the presence of a boy she liked. "Well, cheers," the boy in question toasted a few seconds later. "Cheers," Emilie echoed, bringing her glass of wine towards Harry's. "I hope you like the food. I'm glad we could fit this dinner into our busy schedules," he added, "I'm glad you're here." "Yeah, me too. For all I know, I could've been asked to babysit last minute." Those short notice requests never came as a pleasant surprise. It happened multiple times by now, Emilie getting a call in the late afternoon, sometimes even after she got the girls out of bath, and Emilie hadn't been amused. But of course, she wasn't really in the position to say no and make a big deal out of it just because she wanted those few extra hours to herself. It wasn't like Emilie got up to much in the evenings anyways. So far, this had only been the third night she had plans after work. Everyone knew that she mostly just relaxed in her room at night time. "I told the family I was meeting up with Tilda for dinner, by the way." Harry smiled. "Figured that was easier." Emilie took a bite of her meal. "Oh, wow, this tastes amazing." "Yeah?" "Yeah, it's really good." "Good. So how's everything going with the family? Getting accustomed to each other?" Emilie thought before she answered. She'd been in Hampstead for five weeks already and even though it felt like a longer period of time, she had to admit that connecting with David and Catherine was still going a bit rough to say the least. "It's just a bit... weird... you know? I think I'm just realising and accepting the fact that I don't really get along that great with them?" Emilie finally told Harry, her tone of voice as if she was asking a question. "It's not like we have problems, not at all, but you'd assume that when you practically live with people, stay at their house all day long, be around their children, you'd get along better with them than we currently are... It's not like I'm jumping for joy every time one of them gets home, even though it means my work for the day is done. They're just not really... not type of people, I guess." Harry had a few bites of his meal, letting Emilie vent. "David, for instance, I barely see, also because he travels a lot for work. But when I do, it's just so," Emilie shook her head, sighing, "excruciatingly awkward." Harry laughed. "I'm serious." She cracked a smile, unable to keep up a serious face when facing the twinkle in Harry's eyes. "It's unlike anything I've ever experienced before. It's like, dude, I live in your house. I have been here for over a month. The least you can do is, like, acknowledge my presence when you enter the room." "He sounds like he's just some typical stuck-up London business bloke," Harry imagined, "Who just minds his own business and doesn't care about anything or anyone else." "He doesn't communicate whatsoever. It's like he thinks I can read his mind, or something. All I do is guess, because he doesn't talk. He doesn't give a damn about the girl living in his house, who also happens to be taking sole care of his angel daughters." "What about his wife?" "Catherine-" "Catherine, yeah." "She's alright, I mean, at least she talks." Harry laughed again. "Low standards, I know. But it's alright, I get along better with her," Emilie admitted, "Sometimes she's actually happy to have me around in the evenings, I guess, because I think she gets quite lonely when David's not around. She talks to me about annoying co-workers, her asshole boss, family issues, whatnot." "That's nice," Harry said. "Yeah. She called me her older daughter or her younger sister the other day," Emilie laughed. "But still, I'm not sure how sincere she actually is. I get a weird vibe at times. Like, is she talking shit about me to the people she talks shit about to me? You know? She's not really straightforward or direct in her communication. I feel like I have to look for a hidden message in everything she says." Emilie thought for a second. "I'm guessing that's also a bit of an English thing to do, though." "Heyyyyy!" "Isn't it, though?" she honestly asked him. "Not always in a bad way, I don't mean that you're like that, as well! I mean, maybe Danish people are a bit less..." "Douchey?" "Maybe," Emilie laughed. "I don't know. Just cultural differences, let's put it that way." "So far, I think the two of us get along quite well," Harry commented with a smirk on his face. "So far, yeah," Emilie retaliated. Harry laughed and jokingly rolled his eyes as he got up from the table. He returned a few seconds later with a bowl of salad he'd forgotten in the kitchen and the bottle of wine he just opened, in case they needed refilling. Emilie noticed he'd also turned off the extractor hood above the stove, the noise in the background now gone and the music that had already been playing when Emilie arrived now audible more clearly. She'd thought she heard a Norah Jones song before, but it appeared that he had a full playlist on, 'Come Away With Me' turning into another smooth ballad by the piano jazz singer. "I can't with the music," Emilie smiled when Harry got seated again. "Why, you don't like it?" "No, I do, it's just... I don't know." "What?" "It... It sets a vibe." "A vibe?" He cocked his eyebrow. "Yeah, like a very relaxed, chill, calm vibe." "That's good, though, innit?" "It is, I suppose." Emilie let out another sigh. "I guess I'm just not used to feeling at ease like this." ~~ After they finished dinner, Emilie helped Harry cleaning up the kitchen, putting everything away in the dishwasher and making sure the table tops were all cleared and spotless. They made a pot of tea later and Emilie was surprised to find Harry drank his tea without milk, the way Emilie was used to having hers back home. They then sat down on one of Harry's ridiculously comfortable sofas in the living room, where a coffee table was placed in the middle of the furniture and a huge flat screen TV was hanging on the wall above an open fireplace. "Wanna watch a movie or summat?" Harry asked after they had their first sips of tea. "Sure." Harry opened the Netflix app on the TV and started browsing through the countless amounts of films and series. He asked what kinds of movies Emilie was into, before his eye fell on Titanic, calling it a classic. "I like Titanic but it's so long," Emilie commented, "It'd be nice if we could finish the film before I'm heading back." "In that case, I'll look for the longest film I can find," Harry shamelessly flirted as he continued browsing. Emilie chuckled, rolling her eyes. They eventually settled upon Pride and Prejudice after Emilie admitted she'd only seen it once, years and years ago. Focusing on the film, sitting there beside each other in silence, it didn't feel anything but natural when Emilie noticed Harry was sitting quite closely to her right, her pulled up leg brushing his thigh. The film had only just started when Harry reached for the side table to his right and grabbed a soft blanket, draping it over the both of them, as they quickly found comfort. The film was good, but Emilie felt herself getting quite sleepy. About forty-five minutes in, she found that her head was getting heavier and heavier, as it eventually gently fell to the right, landing on the side of Harry's shoulder, the softness of the fabric of Harry's jumper against her cheek. She was dozing off comfortably until all of a sudden, Emilie felt a nudge coming from her right, Harry moving his shoulder up and down. Her closed eyes shut open and she blinked a few times. "You fell asleep," Harry accused teasingly. "No, I didn't." "Yes, you did." His voice was high pitched. "I just closed my eyes for a second." "It was definitely more than just a second." "Nice to know you're sitting there, watching me." Emilie rolled her eyes. "Aren't we supposed to watch the film?" With that, Harry stopped answering and a smile appeared on his face. Emilie meanwhile got up from her comfy position lying against Harry, and stretched. She made sure to sit up a bit straighter so she wouldn't nearly fall asleep again. "You don't have to sit so far away." She looked up, watching Harry pet the empty spot between them that she just created. With a smile, she moved closer to him again, her side pressed against his once more. They sat in silence, watching the film. It was nowhere near about to end, though, and it was nearing ten-thirty. Emilie couldn't but think about her alarm going off in the morning. "I think I'm gonna... I think I'm gonna head back soon," she therefore spoke up. "You are?" "Yeah." "Alright." It was silent for a couple of seconds again, the characters in the movie the only ones speaking, until Harry added, "Like now?" Emilie nodded. "Yeah. I think it's best if I don't stay up so late." "Okay." They got up from underneath the blanket, Harry grabbing the fabric and folding it up. "Aren't you gonna finish it?" Emilie asked when she saw Harry stopping the movie instead of pausing it, closing the Netflix app on the TV and eventually turning it off. "We'll finish it another time, together." Emilie put on her ankle boots she had taken off and went to find her coat in the hallway. Harry accompanied her, walking her out. He'd also taken off his boots and Emilie found it funny to see that with Harry just wearing socks and Emilie standing tall in her heels, they were now nearly the same height. "So. Thanks for dinner, it was really good." "Of course," he brushed off, "No problem." They walked to the front door, only one thing on Emilie's mind. The previous times, Harry had been the one initiating physical contact. Now, Emilie just knew that she was going to regret it if she didn't at least try to make advances. In a sudden state of feeling brave, she stepped closer to him and reached out to get hold of his hand. Looking up, Harry smiled, watching their connected fingers. He understood what Emilie was pursuing and bent his head down a bit, as the distance between them closed. Emilie first thought he was just going in for a peck or a quick kiss but suddenly felt he was aiming for more, his tongue sliding in between her lips, urging her to open her mouth a bit further. His touch again left her breathless and only wanting more, wishing she could feel this way forever. They both smiled when the kiss ended and the distance between them increased. Emilie's left hand was still holding his right, their joined limbs dangling between their bodies. "I'll be going, then." "Are you gunna text me again in a bit?" Emilie blinked slowly and smiled, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "Oh, shut up." He laughed and opened the front door for her. He pushed a button on a touch screen panel hanging on the wall and Emilie heard the buzzing sound of the gate opening in the distance. Her cue to go. "Thanks for tonight. And enjoy your time at home," she told him. He thanked her. "I will. It will be good." "Have fun at your shows." "And you have fun working. Or good luck, I should say. And, uhm, I'll text you?" "Yeah," she smiled. "See you soon." "For sure." The walk back went by in a flash. Without thinking much about it, Emilie rapidly made her way down the main road, feeling all kinds of energetic; a stark contrast to the sleepiness that had taken over her by the end of the evening, lying on the sofa. It was like she could still feel her lips tingling when she arrived back in the Village, about fifteen minutes later, the kiss replaying itself in Emilie's mind. She could still feel his touch on her mouth. She could still feel the sparks. With that, she didn't need more proof to confirm what she already knew. She was fully aware of what Harry was doing to her. To make matters worse, a text message popped up on her phone screen, after getting ready for bed. Tonight was really nice. Look forward to seeing you this weekend. Sweet dreams. With a fluttering heart, Emilie typed her response, You're a great cook, I'm gonna keep that in mind. Thanks for tonight, see you soon x | < Previous chapter | Next chapter > | | Story page | Author | Talk to me |

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septic84 · 5 years ago

Text

It’s going to be fine

When Dan and Phil decided they were going to stay together, (as more than friends, even if they weren't telling anyone) Dan knew eventually Phil would have to meet his family. He had already been introduced to his younger brother, but not is parents or grandparents. Dan had been procrastinating as usual; he didn't want Phil to meet his mum and dad. Phil had yet to be exposed to their dysfunction, and he wasn't overly excited to introduce him to it.

A03

"We're going this weekend, right?" Phil asked on Wednesday.

"Yeah," He looked down and picked at his fingers.

"Dan, it's going to be fine,"

"I hope you are right,"

Phil kissed Dan's forehead. "Of course I am."

"We can't, like, I'm not,"

"Shh, I know, please don't worry. It will be fine."

"Don't blame me if you want to move out on Monday,"

"Dan," Phil warned,

"Yeah, yeah, I can't help it."

"Let's go for a walk,"

"Wow, Phil, you don't know what to do with me, do you?"

"Just go get your coat," They had walked around their neighborhood for about a half of an hour in comfortable silence. Dan was running various scenarios over and over in his head, none of them had a positive outcome.

"Dan, stop it. We are just going to yours for the weekend, as friends. There is no need to be so worried."

"I know, but what if they,"

"Stop," Dan was impressed that Phil was so confident that this trip would go well, then again, he didn't know Dan's parents. "If it bothers you so much, I don't have to go. I won't be upset to stay home,"

"What? No Phil. I really want you to come. I'm just being stupid. Besides, Nana would disown me if you didn't come," they were going to stay at his grandparent's house, Dan felt more comfortable there than his parent's, and he knew he was safe. When he had asked, his Nan was more than happy for the opportunity to meet Phil. She watched all of their videos, "it feels like I already know the boy, it would be nice to actually meet him. He seems lovely,"

"He is," Dan assured. When they had made it back to the flat, Dan did feel better, "thanks, Phil,"

"You're welcome, you should listen to me more often, I know you pretty well," He started to make coffee, "live show?"

"Yeah, okay,"

"So, we're going away this weekend and I fully intend on tasting all of the delightful fall drinks."

Dan smirked, "You're going to be disappointed," they both ignored the comments that flew by mentioning a "romantic getaway" or "date weekend." Dan didn't know why Phil had even mentioned it to them.

"Don't worry, Howell, I think you will be pleasantly surprised." Dan rolled his eyes.

When the show had ended, Dan asked, "Why did you even mention anything about this weekend to them?"

Phil shrugged, "I'm not as worried about it as you are. I'm pretty excited to meet your family."

"You still didn't need to open the flood gates for the shippers! I mean you saw the comments."

"Boy, you're extra cranky, you should sleep."

Dan scowled at him.

"See?" Phil got up and walked out of the room. He was really good at staying casual when Dan was really upset.

Dan did get to sleep early that night, trying to calm the swirling in the pit of his stomach. He knew this weekend wouldn't be as pleasant as Phil was hoping.

When he woke up the next day he found Phil doing laundry. Phil always did the trip prep, Dan was always too crabby and anxious to help. They would arrive midday tomorrow and leave late afternoon Sunday, Dan still felt like that was too long.

"Hey,"

"Hey," Phil smiled, "Other than what was in the hamper, what other clothes do you want for this weekend?"

"I don't care,"

"Still cranky I see,"

"I'm sorry,"

"I'm used to crabby Dan before trips, it's okay."

Dan huffed, "I'm not always like this,"

"You are, but it's okay."

"Tell me again, tell me that it'll be okay."

Phil smiled sympathetically, setting down the hoodie he was folding. "It's going to be fine, great even, Dan. We are going to have an amazing time and you are going to see your family."

"What if they don't like you?"

"Pfft, what's not to like? I'm kind, I'm polite, I don't swear like a sailor on leave,"

"Hey!"

"See? I'm delightful." He gave Dan a quick kiss on the lips, "And even if they don't, that just means I'll have to try harder to get them to see my charm. It means nothing as far as you and I are concerned."

"You are so brave,"

"Nah, I just love you." Phil went back to the laundry. "Make me coffee?"

Dan laughed through his nose, "coming right up."

The rest of the day was spent filming a video for Phil's channel, it was a welcome distraction from the thoughts spinning in Dan's head. As much as he didn't want to, Dan was becoming irritated with Phil's confidence and reassurance towards the trip. He knew Phil meant well, but the insecurities Dan had made him feel like a child. It was his own family and Dan was more nervous and worried than Phil, but also he was scared. He didn't know how well his family would receive him bringing a boy home, even If it were under the context of "friends."

"Dan, get out of your head," Phil said as he finished editing. "What are you thinking about?"

"Same old," he shrugged.

"Video's done, we should get take away and watch Anime,"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Later that night in bed, Dan cuddled closer to Phil. The panic was so intense it made him crave reassurance.

"Deep breaths, Dan. You're okay,"

"I just have no idea what's going to happen when we're there. I am not sure how my family will react to you or you coming with me. I'm afraid you'll be offended."

"Then I'll be offended,"

"Promise me that when we come home, you will still stay with me. That you won't leave me, that we'll still be together,"

"Nothing they say will make me love you any less. I won't leave."

"Promise me,"

"I promise, cross my heart."

"Okay,"

"Sleep, Dan. We have an early morning."

"Daniel!" His Nan had picked them up from the train station, "You're too skinny,"

"Nana, please,"

"And, Phil," she shook his hand, "it's lovely to meet you!"

"You too, thank you for having me."

"You're always welcome here. Let's gather your things and head back before we catch a chill."

The drive back was comfortably quiet and peaceful, as they pulled into the drive, Dan's Nan said, "okay, boys, lunch will be in a half of an hour, Daniel, show Phil to the guest room so he can get settled."

The guest room was upstairs on the opposite side of the house from Dan's Grandparent's room. The house looked like the proverbial "Grandma's house" with several knickknacks and pictures. No one had said anything or made comments as to where Phil would be sleeping. The guest room had two sets of towels laid out for them.

"We're sleeping in the same bed?"

Dan's eyes became wide, "No, I'm sure that's not what she intended."

"Could have fooled me,"

"Phil, please,"

"Yeah, yeah," they both set down their bags, used the bathroom and went back downstairs for lunch.

"Daniel, please set the table,"

Phil smirked and mouthed "Daniel," at him, Dan stuck up his middle finger.

"I saw that it's a very rude gesture, young man."

"Sorry, Nana." Phil was doing everything he could to keep from laughing. Once the table was set and they were eating, that's when the questions started.

"So, you studied at York, did you?"

He smiled, "yes, I did." Dan listened nervously to the barrage of questions being asked of Phil.

"Daniel, relax. I'm just trying to get to know Phil." Dan nodded, "No need to worry, I like Phil,"

The rest of the day was spent talking and going to the shops. Phil was able to purchase a few themed coffees and would have gotten more had Dan's Nan not intervened, "Take it, easy son, if your heart doesn't explode, at the very least you won't sleep a wink," Dan laughed. "Popsie should be home now, we should head back," Dan took a deep breath, "Honestly Daniel, you needn't worry." She patted his cheek, "You're okay, love."

"Thanks, Nana"

"Daniel, my boy, is that you?" Dan's Grandfather emerged from the lounge, pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, Popsie,"

"And you must be the infamous "Phil,"

"Oh, I don't know how "infamous" I am, but I am Phil."

He smiled, "come sit with me boys, your Grandmother has already had her time," Nan laughed from the kitchen and Dan and Phil followed him to the sofa. "So Phil, tell me about yourself," Dan listened to them talk, trying not to act as awkward as he felt.

"You have a lovely home," Phil said,

"Polite lad. I'm really glad that Daniel found a friend like you," he looked at Dan, "someone had to convince you to abandon that dreadful law degree."

"Popsie, Phil had nothing to do with that,"

"Of course, he did. He believed in you and gave you the encouragement and confidence to follow your dreams and not the whims of your parents."

"Well, I am guilty of that, I suppose. Dan is very good at what he does, just gotta convince him of that." Dan blushed.

"Right you are,"

After brewing a pot of coffee, Dan's grandparents invited the boys to an afternoon of playing cards. Dan was afraid Phil would feel out of place, or even bored, but it was clear that wasn't the case. Phil smiled a lot and he laughed even more.

"Oh, dear. You are dreadful at this game, Phil," Nana said.

"I am, aren't I?" Phil's ability to laugh at himself was one of the things Dan admired most about him. He did not take things too seriously.

After dinner, both of Dan's grandparents were pleasantly tipsy. They all sat around the table laughing and enjoying each other's company. Dan had excused himself to grab extra blankets from the linen closet, he figured he would be sleeping on the floor. When he came back to them, he overheard his grandfather say, "You care about my grandson a lot, don't you Phil?"

"Yes sir, very much,"

"You'll do right by him, yeah?"

"Yes sir, to the best of my ability,"

"The poor kid is so torn up inside from his parents,"

"That's enough of that," Nan said, "You don't give him enough credit. You don't need to worry, Phil, Daniel is strong. He'll be fine," Dan waited a few minutes and came back to the table. "You all set for bed, love?"

"Yes, Nana,"

"Good, it's time for us old folks to retire for the evening,"

"You're not old," Dan said.

"Bless you, no need to butter me up, already planning on making you boys a good breakfast," she smiled.

"Well, I'll look forward to that," Phil said.

"Alright, have good night lads," Popsie said as they went to their room.

"I love them, Dan, they are lovely," Phil said when they had made it to the guest room.

"They seem to really like you as well."

"I told you, what's not to like,"

Dan started to spread the extra blankets out,

"Are you actually sleeping on the floor?" Phil asked. "Do you think that's necessary?"

Dan sighed, "I don't know,"

"I think you are too worried about this, get up here. We will make sure to wake up extra early if it'll make you feel better."

"Phil, they are up by 6 am."

"We had better get to sleep then."

Dan cuddled next to Phil, "My parents are a lot different than them," Dan whispered.

"It's going to be fine,"

True to his word Phil had woken up Dan at 7:00 AM, after taking showers they went down to the Kitchen.

“Wow, you boys are up early,” Popsie said,

“We wanted to have breakfast with you,” Phil said smiling.

Dan’s Nan entered the room and kissed him on the cheek, “Good morning, Love,”

“Hey, Nana,”

“Your mother and father should be here around 1,”

“Okay,”

“Don’t worry,” Popsie said.

“Everyone keeps saying that when they have no idea what is going to happen,”

“You’re safe here, Daniel. You always will be,” Nan said.

After breakfast, Dan and Phil did the dishes and helped clean up the kitchen. They also helped prepare things for Dan's parent's arrival.

"I'm going to show Phil around."

"Okay love, don't be gone too long."

"Yes, Nana," Dan and Phil walked around the neighborhood. “I pretty much lived here full time until my brother was born,” He pointed at a park that was nestled in a corner, “I fell out of that tree on the left when I was four, Nana was so mad. I wasn’t supposed to be climbing the trees,”

“Always the rebel.” Phil grasped his hand, “Thanks for sharing this with me.”

“Thank you for being here.”

Phil started to walk towards the park, and Dan followed him. Once at the same tree Dan had fallen from when he was younger, Phil gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I have something for you,” Phil handed him a small translucent bag that had two black studs in it. “I know they look plain, but take them out.” Dan did, Phil turned his hand to reveal the portion that would be against his ear. On each earring, there was a tiny PxD in silver followed by a small red heart.

“Phil,” “I wanted you to have something that reminded you I love you, but privately. I wanted you to know, that no matter what happens later, I love you. I am still all in,” He smiled.

“This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Dan put both earrings in.

“I hope that makes you feel better, even when I can’t show it, you are reminded how much you mean to me.”

“I do feel better, thank you.”

When they returned Dan’s mother and father were already there, the house smelled amazing as Dan’s Nan was making a family dinner.

“Mom, Dad, this is Phil,”

“Hello, Phil,” Dan’s father said, aggressively shaking Phil’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Howell,” Phil said, his voice strained.

“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Howell said, shaking his hand more gently.

“Mrs. Howell,” Phil greeted.

“So, you boys haven’t gone broke yet with the whole internet nonsense, which is a miracle, you're both lucky.”

“I think we’re talented, we both work very hard,” Phil said.

Mr. Howell scoffed, “Dan has no idea what real “hard work" is, kid,”

“With all due respect, Mr. Howell, You have no idea how talented and hardworking your son is.”

Dan’s jaw nearly hit the floor, as the room went silent. Dan’s mother had gone into the Kitchen to help his Nan, Popsie was seated in the corner watching. Dan wasn’t sure, but Popsie seemed to have a smirk on his face.

Mr. Howell ignored Phil, “Daniel when are you going to stop playing these childish games and start a real career, go back to school, actually work?”

“I am working Dad; my focus is not on Uni right now.”

“Well, don’t wait too long, hanging out with your buddy is all well and good until you have to pay a mortgage and support a wife and family. The amount of time you spend together is not normal, son.”

Dan cringed, taking a deep breath, “I want to keep doing this, I am good at it.”

“You should be at school, meeting girls and having a normal life, preparing for later. It’s not a career Daniel, it’s working for now.”

“You’re wrong, you know,” Phil said, “We are doing quite well for ourselves.”

“I didn’t ask you; I was speaking to my son. I am sure your father has things to say about your life choices,”

“Actually, my family loves and supports me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mr. Howell’s face turned red.

“I was just being honest with you,”

“Daniel, I don’t think this boy is good for you, he’s teaching you bad manners and habits.”

Dan blanched and looked like he was going to pass out. “Daniel, come sit my boy,” Popsie said,

“There you go coddling him again, no wonder he’s like this, it’s your fault, you know. You're making him into a pansy, man up, Daniel”

“There is nothing wrong with Daniel, he and Phil are both lovely lads.” Dan sat next to Popsie.

Mr. Howell turned back to Phil, “You shouldn’t be encouraging this behavior, you’re older than him, I suppose you’ve never gone to school either,”

“I have. I have two degrees,”

“In what? Bull shit? Fantasy land? No, I've got it, How to be a fairy, I bet that's it. Fancy my son, don’t you?”

“That is enough!” Popsie said, bolting straight up from his chair. “You will not speak to my guest this way. You are the problem you know, not them.”

“Oh, I’m the problem?”

“Dinner time!” Nan yelled from the Kitchen, Mr. Howell stormed out of the room.

Popsie looked at Phil, “I’ll let you two have a minute. If you feel comfortable, feel free to join us, otherwise, I will make sure to save you some for when that awful man leaves. I’m sorry, Phil.”

“It’s not your fault,” Phil smiled sadly and turned to Dan, he sat down next to him, “Hey,”

Dan looked at him, tears filling his eyes, “I-I told you, I'm so sorry,”

“Shh, none of that matters. You did well. I am proud of you.”

“I’m sorry he said those things to you.”

“Eh, I’ve heard worse.”

Dan looked at him, “How are you so calm about all of this?”

“Because I already told you, what they say makes no difference to me.”

“But you heard him, he thinks,”

“I don’t care, Dan. He can think what he wants. He’s wrong. Parents can be wrong, okay? And he certainly is. Even your grandfather knows it.” Phil side hugged Dan, “Youtube makes you happy, and you are good at it. Don’t let him destroy that, okay?” Dan nodded, “Do you want to go eat with them, or should we hide out in the guest room until they leave?”

“I don’t want to go to eat with them. My mom didn’t say anything, but it doesn’t matter, she sides with him always.”

“Okay, let’s go upstairs, take a nap maybe? Your Grandfather said he would save some for us.”

“Okay,”

The boys snuck up the stairs to the guest room, Phil gently grasping Dan’s hand the entire way. The got into the room and sat on the bed.

“Phil, you stood up to my dad.”

“Ah, yeah. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, it’s fine. No one has ever stood up for me.”

“That can’t be true, your grandfather did,”

“Yeah, usually we are not here when my dad starts in on me.

Well, I couldn’t let him attack you, my boyfriend instinct wouldn’t allow it.”

“Thank you, for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you,”

“I love you too.” Phil gently tugged at Dan’s earlobe, as his stomach growled.

“I’m sorry, we should have eaten,”

“That’s okay, I brought snacks,”

Dan laughed, “Of course you did,”

Phil walked over to the nightstand where his bag was, he unzipped it and pulled out a bag of cereal. “Ah, Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think your Grandparents know that we are together?”

“What? No of course not!”

“You’re sure?”

“What are you on about Phil, you know I haven’t told anyone,”

“Okay, well, then why are these here?” Dan’s face went red as Phil held up two condoms.

“Oh my god,” He squeaked, mortified. Phil started to laugh, loudly. “Phil, It’s not funny.”

“Yes,” He gasped between giggles, “it really is.”

“So that means they must know. And Popsie still stood up to my dad,”

Phil nodded, “I told you it would be fine.”

“How is this fine, Phil? My Grandparents left condoms for us,”

Phil nodded, “Well, I guess this means that they don’t care that we’re sharing a bed, huh?”

Dan rolled his eyes, “I hate you.”

Bingo Card:

Meet that Parents

Condoms

#pff bingo 2019 #phanfiction

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