#casually replies six years later oh god | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nctsworld · 4 years ago

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two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone off to one side.

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.”

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly.

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

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bangtanstanst · 2 years ago

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Once a Killer | 12

prologue • part one • part two • part three • part four • part five • part six • part seven • part eight • part nine • part ten • part eleven • part twelve • part thirteen • part fourteen

When you left your hometown, you left behind everything you knew and you never looked back. Now, years later, you’re living life on your own terms. But when your past comes back to haunt you, you find yourself at a crossroads once more. There’s just one thing you know for sure – you will not run away anymore. No matter how hard it gets.

≽ pairing: taehyung x reader ≽ genre: mafia/cop au, angst, hints of fluff (but more so in the other chapters oops) ≽ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, guns, hints/mentions/threats of death ≽ word count: 4k

a/n: hi friends, I hope you're doing well!! I'm still not quite over the fact that seokjin has now officially enlisted oh god iT'S STARTING, but alas – two years to go😞✊ Anyways, I hope you enjoy this new part of oak; things are really ramping up!!

›› tag list: @fjerdae @qualityjoonie @annoyinglyhopefulcarrot @afangirllikeme-blog @jazzytfw @flamingorosette-blog @majestikblue @sugashearteu @imagining-constantly @lvrseok @busansgloss @hell-is-here-and-now ‹‹

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You’re staring down at the glass of water in your hands, the chatter – or rather, shouting – of the bar’s patrons hammering at your ears, overpowering the music that’s playing in the background. A sense of exhaustion has settled in your muscles; you assume it’s the adrenaline of the day finally starting to wear off. You’re yet to muster up the energy to get up and go home, though– you don’t even know if you should go home at all, considering how you left things with Taehyung, but you can’t exactly stay here all night socialising with– with–

“Welcome back.”

You jolt out of your thoughts and look up, lips parting when you see Yoongi has slid onto the bar stool next to you. He’s still in his all-black outfit, his baseball cap now discarded. A strange feeling bubbles in your stomach, and you can’t help but mentally repeat the loud gunshots that had pierced the air mere hours earlier, his latest victim collapsing to the ground right in front of your eyes.

At the same time, the small grin tugging at his lips and the glint of happiness in his eyes bring back memories you never thought you’d ever let yourself relive. Staying up late into the night to finish a movie marathon you severely underestimated, enduring early-morning runs together, eating pizza on the floor of the apartment he helped you move into, trying out Seokjin’s increasingly ridiculous attempts at creating new drinks, making dinner together at his place, your place, his place again…

The warmth in your chest quickly douses when those memories are followed by bloodier, more violent ones. Gun ranges, combat training, days spent preparing for assignments. Sitting on a windy roof for hours on end, waiting for a target to show up before –

“Thanks,” you reply, interrupting your own thoughts and pasting on a bright smile. You suppress the aggressive shivers threatening to run down your spine. “I guess we’ll be working together again soon, after all.”

Yoongi’s grin widens and he nods slowly. “If you kept up on your target practice,” he returns casually, gesturing to Seokjin to ask for a refill.

You tense involuntarily at the implication of his words, though you hide your scowl behind your glass as you take another sip. “I uh… I heard you took another job tonight,” you start slowly, not quite sure why you’d even want to bring it up.

Yoongi softly thanks Seokjin when the man pours more Scotch into his glass. “Jealous, are you?” he asks, his eyebrows raised as he sips from his drink.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Curious is more like it.”

“You’ve got too much cop in you,” he remarks with a teasing smile.

Clearing your throat, you shrug, trying to calm your rapidly increasing heart rate. “Well, I have been working as one for a couple years now.”

“Touché,” Yoongi admits with a smile. He falls silent for a moment, looking at you before turning to stare into his glass. “I can’t tell you much anyway. I don’t really know a name, or a reason,” he elaborates, swirling the amber liquid around before taking a sip. You nod, pretending to understand. The usual, then. “Don’t really need to, though – Jimin said he had it coming,” he finishes, shrugging once more as he puts his glass back down.

“So you still don’t question the things he tells you?”

As soon as you see the look on Yoongi’s face, you know you’ve fucked up. His eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head, ignoring the group of Scouts members cheering in the background for someone to down an entire pint of beer. “I trust his judgement,” he replies slowly. “But I guess we’re different in that sense.”

You hesitate, not wanting to add fuel to the fire you inadvertently started. “I guess there really is too much cop in me,” you joke, which makes him laugh. The tension eases, and you subtly let out a breath.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be back to normal before you know it,” he reassures you even though his words aren’t reassuring at all, and he pats the hand you have resting on the bar.

“As long as I get to go out soon,” you lie through a forced huff. “I’ve been hating the desk work lately.”

He tilts his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. “You should come with me on my next assignment,” he offers. When you blink at him for just a moment, he clears his throat and averts his eyes, shrugs. “I could use the company.”

“I mean, I doubt Jimin would let me do anything of importance this early on,” you return. “So, what– you want me to sit and wait with you on some cold-ass roof just to watch?” you add with a smile, raising a brow. It’s too easy. You’re slipping back into this too easily.

Yoongi takes another sip, his lips curled into a smirk. “I’ll bring snacks,” he offers innocently, setting the glass back down on the bar.

You snort. You notice Seokjin dash past you in the corner of your eye, carrying three giant pints of beer without spilling a single drop. “You’re really desperate for that company, huh?”

“What, I can’t miss you?”

You fall silent and focus your gaze on your water, biting on the inside of your cheek– you would’ve guessed this was coming sometime soon, but you weren’t quite prepared to hear him say it just yet.

He clears his throat. “We’ll talk shop some other time,” he offers, breaking the short silence. “Just drink! Switch that water out for some vodka or something.”

You quickly shake your head in reply, waving his offer away with a small smile. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t take your word for it, and he narrows his eyes and tilts his head at you instead. “You’re sad,” he concludes after a moment. It’s not a question – he knows he’s right.

Letting out a sigh, you nod slowly, looking at your hands as they wrap around your glass. You don’t feel the need to deny it; he’ll know you’re lying, anyway. “Boy trouble,” you reply with an awkward laugh, glancing up at him.

“Seriously? You and that Taehyung guy?” Yoongi inquires, his eyebrows furrowing. When you nod once more, he hums, seeming surprised. “Didn’t think he’d be capable of causing any sort of trouble.”

You grit your teeth when you realise he must’ve seen more of Taehyung than you assumed to confidently form a conclusion like that. That he was probably among those Jimin sent to follow your every step. “Yeah, well, you’re right about that,” you say through a sigh, trying to shake off the eerie sensation weighing on your shoulders. “It was my fault.”

“How come?”

You look up from your glass, your hands tightening around it. “It’s, uh… complicated.”

He chuckles, throwing back the last of his drink. “Always is,” he says, leaning towards you. He puts a warm hand on your arm and sends you a small smile. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

The look in his eyes is empathetic and his words are confident – it’s both reassuring and horribly off-putting. You fake a smile. “I guess so.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, but he doesn’t pry. “Hey, believe me, you’ll –”

Someone shouts Yoongi’s name and the both of you turn to the source of the voice. You don’t recognise the person that waves him over, but Yoongi waves right back before he turns to you again. “Business,” he tells you, pulling a face that, despite everything, makes you laugh. “I’ll be right back,” he adds, slipping off his barstool. You watch him saunter off, enthusiastically greeting the man that had called him over – an enthusiasm that, you figure, is almost completely faked.

Looking away from Yoongi, you let your gaze glide around the bar, seeing Scouts members chatting to each other, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes they’re most certainly not allowed to even light inside. Jimin is somewhere in the corner, cloaked in the shadows provided by the low lighting of the bar, and you can just make out the subtle frown adorning his forehead. Three people are sitting with him. You vaguely recognise the person he’s talking to and you’re sure he would recognise you, but you’re too tired to walk up to them and put on a show, to pretend to be happy that you’ve returned ‘home’.

Finally, your eyes fall on the door that leads to the back, marked Private. It’s next to the bathrooms, inconspicuous enough that it goes ignored by most.

You glance at Jimin, at Yoongi, back at the door. You’re alone, and no one would bat an eye if you disappeared into the direction of the bathrooms for a few minutes – you could just slip upstairs and see how far you can get.

“Hey,” Seokjin calls from behind the bar, sliding over a glass of beer resting on a napkin. You frown momentarily, though that quickly fades when you notice four numbers scribbled on the flimsy white material, the black ink of his pen bleeding at the edges. 6387. Next to the numbers rests a small, golden key, one that’ll grant you access to Jimin’s office. “Just be careful.”

You can’t help but smile. “You read my mind, Seokjin,” you mutter, and he returns the sentiment with a sharp nod as you swiftly stuff the key and the napkin into your pocket. Sliding off the barstool, you glance at Jimin as you walk up to the back door. He doesn’t notice you, and neither does Yoongi, the both of them too engulfed in business to look up. You fix your eyes straight ahead, taking a breath as you walk towards the bathrooms, pull at the door next to them, and slip inside before anyone can stop you.

You have to force yourself not to rush as you make your way down the dark hallway, up the stairs, straight to Jimin’s office where you know the safe will be, where you know you can find the ledger. Act like you belong. Act like nothing is out of the ordinary– just in case.

As soon as you step into the first-floor hallway, two guys standing at Jimin’s office door pause their conversation and stare at you. Their brows furrow as you approach.

“Do you mind? I gotta get something,” you mutter curtly, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Sorry, no one’s allowed in when the boss isn’t here,” the right one pipes up, straightening his back.

The left one crosses his arms and nods. “Yeah, sorry, sweetheart,” he confirms in a low grumble. “Come back later.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and pulling the key from your pocket. “Would he really give me the goddamn key to his office if he didn’t want me to enter?” you shoot back coldly. “Now go take a piss or something, I don’t need you two idiots spying on me while I’m in there.”

For once, the ‘no questions asked’ culture Jimin has cultivated seems to work in your favour, and the two men fall silent before reluctantly sculking off, moving down the hallway. You stare after them for a moment, eyebrows raised in a surprised expression they might mistake for disdain, and you quickly turn back to the door as they slip into another room.

You fumble with the key for a moment, your hands frustratingly unsteady, but you manage to unlock the entrance soon enough. With a last glance into the hallway, you quickly step inside, locking the door behind you just in case. The key slips back into your pocket and you pause for a moment to catch your breath, the emptiness of Jimin’s dark office only making you much more nervous.

The lights are off and the blinds are shut– it takes you a moment to remember the light switch. As remnants of the loud chatter downstairs penetrate the floor, you quietly flick on the lights and blink as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. The room looks about the same as the last time you were here, with the dark, wooden desk taking centre stage – it’s completely empty except for a lamp and some pens stalled out to the right, as if they’re waiting for him to come back. Your heart beats hard and fast as you take another breath and walk around the desk, your shoes scuffing against the dark purple rug. All the drawers are closed and likely locked – but a small safe sits next to one of the legs of the desk.

After a quick glance at the door, you crouch down in front of the safe and take a deep breath, slowly letting it back out. You clasp the dial of the combination lock, turning it to the first number – you don’t even have to look at the napkin to remember. 6. The metal softly squeaks as the dial turns and turns. Your hand goes clammy when you hear voices downstairs, but they’re too far away to truly alarm you. 3. Your nerves are driving you nearly insane, but you keep steadily turning the dial, not wanting to make a mistake that will delay you. 8. Outside, people are yelling the lyrics to Piano Man, drunkenly mumbling the words they don’t remember. You might have laughed, had it been a normal evening, had you been with– you shake your head. Not now, not now, not now. With a fortifying breath, you turn the dial one last inch. 7.

Click.

You pull your hand off the dial, gripping the handle to open the heavy door. You cringe inwardly as the hinges creak, and you peek over the desk at the office door. Staying silent for a moment, you listen intently to the sounds outside until you’re sure no one has heard you and is headed your way. You crouch back down to the now open safe, your eyes widening when you see the stacks of money and the small collection of guns laid out in front of you. You take a moment to memorise the way they’re arranged, then take out some of the stacks so you can look behind them.

You gasp.

The innocuous leatherbound notebook is at the back of the safe. Even though it’s hidden underneath more money, you recognise it all too well, and your heart skips a beat out of sheer relief.

Glancing at the door once more, you pull out your phone and dial Jungkook’s private number. With your phone clutched between your ear and your shoulder, the dial tone ringing in your ear, you reach inside the safe. Your hand closes around the ledger and you slowly pull it out– you allow yourself a moment to file through the pages upon pages upon pages of numbers, names, locations, inventory… You can’t help the shocked breath that escapes your lips, the way your eyes widen. This is it.

And then you hear voices outside.

You jolt into action as the voices are joined by heavy footsteps moving down the hallway, closer and closer to you. You lock your phone screen and slip the device back into your pocket, fumbling with the safe’s contents to put them back into place as precisely as you can remember. Your gaze lingers on the guns resting on the top shelf– but you decide against taking one, and you close the safe and spin the dial, hastily pulling at the handle to make sure it’s locked tightly. As you jump up, you shove the ledger into the inner pocket of your jacket – the voices grow closer and closer. You frantically look around for a hiding place, or perhaps some secret getaway route that doesn’t involve jumping out of a window.

Nothing.

You rush up to the door and flick the lights off before you place your ear against the wood and close your eyes, concentrating on the voices. They’re muffled and you can’t catch what they’re saying just yet, but you count at least three people. Your body tenses as they near Jimin’s office and your flight instinct starts to kick in, but you force yourself to stand your ground, choosing to listen rather than actually leaping out of the window before you know where these people are headed in the first place. The door is locked, anyway. It’ll buy you a couple of seconds, in case –

The group stops right in front of the office.

You pull back, stepping aside to press yourself up against the wall next to the doorway, holding your breath as if that will do anything. Laughter echoes through the walls and the voices move on, floating further down the corridor. Your eyes flutter closed and you deflate with a single relieved sigh as you hear another door open. When it falls closed behind them, the hallway is left in silence once more.

Your eyes pop open and you listen to the silence for three counts before you step back in front of the door, turning the lock and opening it just slightly, allowing you to peek through the crack. Your eyes dart around the dark hallway for only a split second before you slip outside, your heart pounding too fast, too hard as you lock the door as quickly and quietly as you can.

Darting back down the corridor, you dash down the stairs, only slowing down when your feet hit the floor of the downstairs hallway. The noise from inside the bar grows louder as you approach the exit, almost reassuring you with the allure of safety amongst a crowd.

You step back into the bar, loud chatter and music pulling you back into a suffocating embrace, and you let out a breath when you turn around to close the door. Your eyes flutter closed for a moment and your heart pounds. You’re safe. You made it– through this part of the plan, that is.

“Y/N?” sounds from behind you and you whirl around to face Yoongi. His brows are furrowed. “Why were you in there?”

You open and close your mouth again and again, only jolting out of your daze when the door to the bathroom falls closed next to you. “Bathroom, I was looking for the bathroom,” you reply quickly, sending him a sheepish smile. The ledger weighs heavily in your pocket, and you fight to pretend all is well. “Took the wrong door, got horribly lost, and, well… found my way back.”

Yoongi gives you a weird look in return, then glances at the closed door behind you, your hand still on the doorknob, before turning back to you. “Right,” he says, blinking a few times before he lets out a laugh. “You sure you’re not drunk?”

You chuckle along with him, shaking your head. “Just distracted, I guess.”

“Well, un-distract yourself. Jimin wants us outside,” he says, nodding to the exit at the other side of the bar. Without another word, he turns around and heads towards it, leaving you to rush to catch up to him. Swallowing your nerves, you follow him through the dense crowd. You glance at the bar as you pass it, hoping for a chance to slip the key back to Seokjin and let him know how it went with a single look– but you don’t spot him anywhere. I’ll let him know later.

Taking a fortifying breath, you quickly join Yoongi’s side. “What does he want us to do?” you ask, sending an apologetic smile to someone you accidentally bump into.

Yoongi glances at you, opening the door with a push. “You’ll see.”

The night is still pitch black and you shiver when the cold air hits you – you wrap your jacket around you more tightly and cross your arms. Still shivering, you follow Yoongi across the street to a parked car as black as the night itself, its perfectly polished exterior reflecting the flickering light from the street lamps. Jimin is already sitting in the passenger’s seat, staring straight ahead. His mouth is sealed, just like the driver’s, who calmly lets his gaze glide over his surroundings as he lazily drums his fingers on the outside of the car door.

“After you.”

A glance at Yoongi reveals no more information than you already have and you open the car door without another word, settling into the seat behind the driver, right in Jimin’s line of vision. He stays silent, only making eye contact with you once via the rearview mirror before looking back at the road in front of him. The look in his eyes is off-putting – you think you spot a glint of anger, but it’s been too long since you’ve had to read his face. You’ve never been sure of anything with him, anyway.

The engine is already humming and the car drives off as soon as Yoongi sits down and slams the door closed with a thud. For a few minutes, silence fills your ears and you start to feel increasingly jittery. The car isn’t exactly small, but you still feel claustrophobic in it – a feeling you fight to hide as best as you can. You look at Yoongi, who stares out the window, his eyes fixed on the buildings as they zoom past. The pale yellow light of the street lamps flickers across his face in a rapidly alternating rotation of shadows and light, shadows and light. It’s dizzying to look at.

You avert your gaze, looking out of your own window. “Where are we going?” you ask eventually, glancing at Jimin.

He keeps his eyes fixed ahead of him, something fierce burning in them. “Warehouse.”

You frown. “In the industrial district?” you inquire, glancing out your window once more. Your suspicions are confirmed when you notice you’re moving further away from the city centre, into the older, more decrepit parts of town. “So we’re either moving inventory, or…” you trail off, your eyes flickering to Yoongi, who has turned his gaze from the scenery to you. The look on his face has hardened, and you blink at him.

“Taking care of other business.”

Silence. “And am I gonna know what that business is, or what?” you press, deciding not to stop trying to find out more until you get a clear sign telling you to shut up.

Jimin glances in the rearview mirror, exchanging looks with Yoongi. “Something’s been brought to my attention tonight and I thought I might as well resolve it right away,” he replies, his eyes scanning the streets in front of him as the car rolls to a stop.

Even though it’s dark outside, you can see you’re in an empty parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse. A single working street lamp illuminates the area in a sickly yellow glow. The building’s windows are completely shattered, broken glass littering the damp asphalt, glinting in the headlights of the car. You narrow your eyes, noticing the black char marks on the walls above the windows, the sharp smell of smoke that floats into the car through the air ducts. Though your surroundings are completely and utterly deserted, you’d venture to guess this is the exact warehouse Jimin cleared out earlier tonight to preempt the raid.

The silence inside the car stretches out and grows more ear-deafening by the second. Unable to bear it for much longer, you open your mouth, about to ask what the hell Jimin is talking about– but you swallow those words when Yoongi moves and your eyes shoot to him.

He takes a gun out of a holster underneath his jacket, weighing it in his hand. He’s gritting his teeth and avoiding eye contact, and there’s a slight shakiness in the breath he lets out. Your heart stops when you realise why he must look so bothered. Breathless, you turn to face Jimin, your brows furrowed in a silent question. What the hell is going on?

He looks over his shoulder, right at you. As it has been since you stepped into the car, his expression is hard and unforgiving – there’s no mistaking the fury that’s written in every line of his face. “We’ve got a rat in our midst.”

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a/n: thanks so so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!! I'm very much looking forward to uploading the upcoming parts as well😊 Until then, I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are💕💕

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years ago

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when no one is around.

Butler!Steve x Reader AU

Run-through: You have had a shameless crush on your butler, Steve, ever since your parents hired him. And you’re even more shameless when it comes to showing it. Poor Steve always has to put up with you no matter what. He didn’t have much of a choice; mainly because he was in charge of your household, consequently, in charge of you but also because he likes you, even though he shouldn’t. Yet he always resists you and your charms, for multiple reasons. However, the man finally breaks and gives in to you, following some unholy circumstances…

Themes: age gap, smut, masturbation, slight voyeurism, slight daddy kink, bratty!reader, dom!Steve, daddy!steve, fluff, Butler!Steve, angst

You woke up to the sound of Steve’s voice, like you did every morning.

“Miss, it’s past eight thirty. If you don’t wake up now, you’re going to be very late for work and your father will not be thrilled.”

You groaned and tried to hide under your blanket knowing that that would buy you at least another minute or two. And it did. A couple of minutes later you heard Steve sigh.

“Miss, will you please just wake up?”

You peaked from under your blanket and stared at the eye candy standing right beside your bed in a white shirt, black tux with a bow tie and white gloves. You couldn’t understand how he was a butler when he belonged on the front cover of a magazine. Tall, handsome and older. Just your type.

“Can’t you be a little more loving, Steve? I don’t know, wake me up with a kiss or flowers or something romantic like that.” You teased, sitting up in the middle of your bed and stretching your arms and ignoring the way your thighs clenched together at the sight of him.

He stood there watching you, trying his hardest not to stare while fighting back a smirk. “That would be highly inappropriate, Miss.”

You sighed, reluctantly getting out of bed and stood right in front of him. “What’s highly inappropriate is you having the nerve to look like that all the time.” You took the liberty of leaning in and pressing yourself against him. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Do you have any idea what it does to me? Do you know how bad I wanna just-”

He gently pushed you away. “No.” He shut you up softly. “Now be quick, you have little time. Breakfast and your car will be waiting downstairs in thirty minutes.”

You rolled your eyes at him and rushed into your bathroom. As you got ready, you thought of the past almost six years. Steve has played a huge part in your life.

You still remembered the day your parents announced that they had hired a butler who would handle the household better since they were always away. It was important to have someone to look after you too, given you were the only one who lived in the big, empty house most of the time.

And in walked Steve, straight into your home and your heart. Upon hearing the name ‘Steve Rogers’ you had expected an older gentleman, much older. But then upon seeing Steve for the first time, you were swooned. Totally whipped at the sight of the muscular, suave and drop dead gorgeous man. Brownish blond hair, blue eyes, dashing. He carried himself with elegance. Just his gait was enough to make your heart go all crazy.

You remember thinking to yourself, how the hell would you be able to stay sane with a man that gorgeous around you all the time? Obviously you knew you had a crush on him since the very start. But as the days went by, that meaningless crush morphed into something a little more solid without you even knowing.

You liked Steve, more than you intended to perhaps. Unfortunately, for him you were just his masters’ daughter. He dodged every attempt you made at flirting with him. He always let you down gently though; always with a smile or a smirk or a soft look in his eyes.

And the more he pushed you away, the bolder you got. And you began hearing these phrases more frequently;

“Miss, this is highly inappropriate.” - Whenever you shamelessly flirted with him.

“Miss, I am too old for you.” - Which wasn’t that big of an issue for you personally. He wasn’t old, old. He was in his early forties and you were in your twenties. You knew people with age gaps bigger than that who were happy together.

“Miss, for the love of God, behave.” - your personal favorite.

You never crossed the line though. You sure did tease him a lot, day and night. But he always kept his calm and composure, never breaking. Although there were times when he almost did.

Like the time you were getting ready for a party and you needed some help with your dress. You called out for him and he appeared in your bedroom instantly. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam your half exposed body.

“Can you zip me up?” You stood in front of your mirror, your back exposed, waiting. That was the first time he seemed really nervous around you. He walked up to you and zipped up your dress, slowly, taking his time. His soft, white gloves lazily grazed your skin while he pulled the zipper up, leaving goosebumps behind on your skin. He stood behind you for a moment or two, just staring at your reflection with his lips parted after he was done. “How do I look?” you asked, mischief in your eyes.

He swallowed audibly. “Beautiful.”

Then there was the time when you felt really bold and wore a see-through white, oversized t-shirt over some bright red underwear while parading around the house casually going about your day. Steve saw you and almost dropped the tray he was carrying.

“Oh hi Steve.” You smirked when you caught his gawking for a moment or two.

He recovered and peeled his eyes off you, looking down at his shoes before looking back up at you with a defeated look in his eyes. “Where are the rest of your clothes might I ask?”

“In the laundry bin.”

He sighed. “I had fresh laundry sent to your room just this morning.”

“They’re all dirty.”

“All of them?” he sounded frustrated. Not necessarily because of the topic of discussion but because of your rather scandalous appearance; sprawled on the couch carelessly while dressed like that. You knew just how to make a man lose his mind.

“Yes.”

“How?”

You pretended to think for a moment. “I soiled them while painting this morning.”

“You don’t paint.” He knew you were lying, being a brat as usual.

“I started this morning.”

He sighed, allowing his shameless eyes to take you in one last time before he walked away shaking his head mumbling under his breath about how you were incorrigible. You made it hard for him to go about his day in peace with your little antics, in more ways than one.

Then there was the very famous: “What would you like for breakfast today?” he’d ask almost every morning.

To which you replied, “You.” on a daily basis and it earned the same reaction out of him each time. He’d roll his eyes at you, resisting the urge to have indecent thoughts as best as he could.

Steve was torn between wanting to be strictly professional and wanting to give in to your relentless attempts of seduction. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t into you, or had never had an immoral thought when it came to you.

He thought of you all the time, mainly because his job required him to but also out of genuine concern for your well-being. You were a kind, smart, courageous and beautiful young woman - or rather you could be all this when you weren’t being a brat. Steve had seen the kind of dedication you put towards your work; while handling a huge chunk of the family business. He always admired you for how well you managed the burden your parents placed on your young shoulders.

He sometimes caught you letting out tears of frustration when the stress got too much. Or when you missed your parents because they barely ever came home. You basically lived alone here, in this big, empty house your parents owned. Steve often wondered what would happen to you if he wasn’t here to take care of you. He liked you, a lot. But there were factors which didn’t let him reciprocate what you felt for him.

First being his job, then his age, then the fear of your parents finding out and what they would do to him if they did. Besides, he thought, you were young. Young people feel things for people left and right without ever truly meaning it, correct?

Though that never stopped him from feeling the tension that exists between the two of you. Fiery, hot, burning; it was always there. Even when there were other people around, or when your eyes met for a brief moment. Even on days when you weren’t being a little brat, when you weren’t seeking his attention all the time, even then he couldn’t ignore it. It was there, present loudly.

This flirty, tension filled bond between the two of you remained constant for years. But it wasn’t always just inappropriate and sexual. Steve had been a friend, a confidant, a good listener to you more times than you could count.

With your parents always gone, and you having to bear some of the burden of your parents’ companies, it left you with little to no time with friends and family at all. Some you unfortunately drifted away from due to work, others just stopped reaching out or simply refused to understand your busy lifestyle.

But the one person who was always there for you, always fiercely loyal and constant; no matter how much of a brat you were, no matter how much you annoyed him all the time, no matter how dirty your jokes were, was Steve. Naturally, you unknowingly fell for him at some point - despite knowing that this would go nowhere.

Or would it?

Your daily routines barely changed. It always started and ended the same way. Steve would wake you up, you would annoy him a little, get dressed and ready for work, get to work, go to lunch with your assistant almost every day, get back home, annoy Steve a little more until he leaves. Only for him to come back the next day and repeat.

The days you hated the most were Steve’s off days. Fridays.

With him not around, your days weren’t as animated and fun. No one to tease, no one to be a brat to, no one to annoy. Your other staff members were great, but none quite like Steve.

So Friday, you turned in early for the night. Your housemaids and everyone else had already left so it was just you in an empty house. You tried reading, then got bored. TV wasn’t really helping either.

You tossed and turned in bed until you realized what was wrong; you were feeling frisky. You groaned, if only you had someone to take care of those needs of yours. More precisely someone with bronde hair, blue eyes, and a taut, muscular body which was always found under a crisp black tux, white shirt, black bow tie and white gloves… and a voice which made you feel things you hadn’t felt before.

As you thought of your sexy butler, your hand found its way in between your legs. Your other hand toyed with your breasts; fingers pinched your erected nipples as your back arched off the bed slightly. You sighed in pleasure.

Your flushed, naked body writhed on the silky, cool satin sheets as your fingers toyed with your wet folds. You moaned as your two fingers slipped inside your entrance with ease given that you were dripping already.

You moaned at the thought of a certain pair of blue eyes, and soft lips as your back arched off the bed again, the cold air mercilessly hit your bare chest and caused your nipples to erect even further. Your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you; your fingers ever so gently stroking your walls making every nerve of yours tingle. The palm of your hand rubbed against your sensitive clit over and over again as your moans got louder and louder.

What you didn’t know, was that hidden in the shadows just outside your partially open bedroom door, stood Steve. Lips parted, short breaths, heart racing, his blood rushing downwards as he watched you. He was too aware of everything; his body and yours, his immoral thoughts and your own, how your lust and hunger ignited him. Aware of your soft moans, and the fire in his loins.

He felt guilty, and very ashamed of himself as he took in your bare body. But he couldn’t stop looking. He was entranced; hungry just to have a taste. He begged his body to move away from your doorway, but he didn’t budge. It wasn’t like he was purposely peeping or being a creep.

It was his day off, and yet he dropped by for a casual check, like he had the habit of doing even on days when he wasn’t working because he still had to make sure you were alright. But normally when he dropped by, your bedroom door was always shut so he knew that you were fast asleep.

But today, he found soft, golden light coming through your bedroom. He had to make sure you’re okay but then he saw that the door was almost halfway open, and he investigated further and saw something he wasn’t supposed to. You. Naked on your bed. Touching yourself. And now, he couldn’t look away.

His cock was throbbing at this point and it was difficult to ignore it. He shamelessly drank in the sight of your naked body against the silky sheets. The way your back arched off the bed, the way you bit your lip to hold back your sinful moans, the way he could just tell that your shorts breaths would feel so warm against his skin… fuck, he had goosebumps and a shiver danced down his spine.

He begged himself to slowly walk away, and he almost did. But then he heard you moan his name. And he lost his mind.

“Steve… daddy, please…” you mewled, whimpering under your breath as you took yourself higher and higher.

Steve froze in place, he had never known his name could sound so gentle and vulgar at the same time. He was almost panting as he let his sinful eyes roam your naked body, and he wasn’t even being stimulated in any way, just the sight of you and the sound of your voice was bringing him on the edge.

He was a mess.

He could just walk into that room and give you all that you’ve been practically begging him for all this time, but that would mean risking all that he has now. Or he could simply leave, and pretend this never happened. Self-abuse under a cold shower once he gets back to his apartment would work best. However, he’d have to come back here tomorrow, now with the recollection of what he was currently seeing.

How will he be able to resist you from now on when he could barely take his eyes off you now?

That’s enough, Steve. He managed to slowly back away from your doorway and into the corridor which would lead him to the staircase. As he walked away, he heard your slightly louder moans as you came. Fuck. He stood at the landing, in the dark and groaned internally. Oh how pretty you must have looked, coming undone all over your pretty fingers. It drove him crazy just knowing that he’s the one you think of when you touch yourself.

As discreetly as he could, Steve walked out of your home, rushed into his car and drove past the gates as fast as he could. Needless to say, he had quite some trouble falling asleep that night.

---

You noticed some changes in Steve’s behaviour the next day when he showed up. He was avoiding you, you noticed that the minute you saw him. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes. He would barely be able to hold a conversation for too long. He seemed… shy and timid, definitely not his usual confident self around you.

You tried to start up a conversation but his replies were just dry. You thought that perhaps he was having a bed day, or he woke up feeling grumpy. So you let him be. You didn’t annoy him all day. But at the same time, having him around but not having his attention was driving you crazy. You hated it.

“Steve, what’s wrong?” you asked him at some point during the day. You were in the kitchen at the time and he walked in.

He wasn’t expecting to find you there so he seemed visibly nervous. “I… uh, nothing. Everything is fine.” He cleared his throat and straightened his back a little more. “Did you need anything, Miss?”

You could tell he was avoiding the topic, whatever it was. “No,” you answered, “nothing.” You walked out of the kitchen feeling a little troubled by his behaviour. You frowned as you walked upstairs into your study room. Since you were feeling gloomy, you decided to do some boring work until you figured out what to do with yourself.

Checking the security camera footage was something your father insisted on. You had people for that, but your dad said that it was important you did it yourself just to make sure everything around the house is in order. So you sat back in your seat, rewinding all the footage of the week and sped through it, bored out of your mind.

Surely you wouldn’t find anything because your staff members were all-

You almost fell out of your chair when you saw the footage of last night. 5th indoor camera which surveilled the spacious corridor which led to your bedroom. You checked the time on the frame, it was around 11 p.m and you saw Steve walking up to your partly open bedroom door. 11 p.m ish, around that time pretty sure you were… oh…

You were very well aware that Steve has the habit of coming by to check up on everything even on his days off, you just never knew at what time he came by. Apparently last night he came at the wrong time. Or not...?

You watched the footage of him standing there frozen in place. He took a step back from your door, then inched forward again. Then backed away, then leaned forward again, and you could tell he must have debated turning back around and leaving multiple times but he didn’t. Oh?

Your lips lifted up in a smirk as you pieced it all together. So this is why he’s been acting weird all day? Your devious mind came up with a plan.

Steve left that evening, after ignoring you for the entire day and you decided to be a little bit more of a pain in his lovely ass. So you waited for an hour after he left, and then drove all the way to his apartment. Nothing but mischief on your mind.

When you showed up at his doorstep, he was surprised but still maintained his calm and composure. You shamelessly checked him out; he looked like a god even in his sweatpants and white sweater. His damp, messy hair gave away that he must have just stepped out of the shower. Hot.

“Hello Steve.” Your smirk gave away that you were up to no good and he caught on pretty quickly. He gave you a faint smile.

“How come you’re h-,” You cut him off by opening his front door wider and taking the liberty of stepping into his home like an insolent little brat. He sighed as he shut the door behind him and followed you in. “Do you know that it’s considered quite rude to just barge into someone’s home?”

You stopped right before entering his living room. You turned around to face him with a sly smirk. “And do you know that it’s considered rude to come into someone’s home at night and openly spy on them while they’re naked and touching themselves? Hmm?” You had no shame. Also nothing to hide given he had seen it all.

The look on Steve’s face was priceless. He was less bothered about how you figured and more worried about what would follow now. His job could be at risk yes, but what must you be thinking? He couldn’t figure you out.

“That’s not what… I was-,” He looked frustrated and nervous, but also guilty. “I wasn’t spying, I didn’t…” He sighed, trying not to stutter. “Listen, that’s not what-”

You cut him off again by walking up to him. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” You said with a flirty smile. “In fact, it would’ve been better if you just walked into the room.” You heard him gasp as you leaned in closer to him, whispering in his ear, “Because I was thinking about you while I was pleasuring myself,” you giggled, “but I think you know that already.” You pulled away to look at him. He was flushed. Troubled. Dare you say, aroused.

The memories of last night filled his mind. He remained silent, still processing your words and wondering how he should handle this situation. You spoke again, “If I had known you were there watching me, I would’ve put up a better show.” His handsome face was void of any emotion. He was confused, but also burning.

He was feeling too much at the same time, he didn’t know how to act. Not to mention that your words sent chills all over his body. He was barely able to maintain his calm demeanor any longer.

Silence.

You spoke up again. “If you want, I can do it right now.” You noticed how his hands flexed at his sides. He was struggling. You smirked. “What, you shamelessly watch me get off and now you’re acting all calm and collected?” You reached out and gently trailed a finger down his forearm. You watched him shiver for a moment. “Come on Steve,” your hand moved right to the bulge in his sweatpants, “admit it, you want me.” You teased him by gently feeling his erection. It excited you just as much as it did him.

He finally spoke up. “Y/N… we shouldn’t.” Fuck but he wanted to. He was dying to just reach out and touch you. He kept thinking about how you looked last night; bare, lying in your bed and touching yourself so gently. Your moans… they had tormented him all night even after he got home. His accelerated heartbeats echoed in his ears as he stood unmoving under your wild stare. He swallowed audibly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist you for long. His primal, feral desires surfaced more and more as you spoke and he was hungry. Like a wild animal in heat.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh?” You walked around him, circling like he was a prey. When you stood right behind him, you stood on your tiptoes and leaned in to whisper again, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “But what you did was highly inappropriate Mr. Rogers. Can you imagine what that would do to your reputation, should people find out?” You kissed down along his neck, from his ear to the side of his lower jaw where you could feel his pulse. You scoffed, “Your heart is racing, Steve. Give in. I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” You whispered softly.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath while trying to ignore the pressure in between his legs. His cock was throbbing. His hands were almost shaking as he held back from touching you. He could so easily just pin you to the wall and have his way. He so desperately wanted to. But… he shouldn’t. You were his bosses’ daughter.

Despite knowing it was futile because you had the reputation of getting whatever you wanted, be it in your personal or professional life, he still tried to act responsibly rather than just giving in to his burning desire and instincts.

“I’m not one of your business deals, Y/N. You can come in here and talk terms with me in my own home.” He sounded frustrated and… hot.

You walked back around and stood right in front of him. Judging by the look in your eyes, he knew what was coming and he silently accepted defeat. “Why? What’s so special about your home?”

He stepped closer, stopping at just inches away from you. “Careful, Y/N.” His tone caused you to stop smirking. “My home, so I make the rules. When I tell you to stop being a little brat, you stop being a little brat.” The way he looked down at you only made you want to misbehave even more.

“Else what?”

And that was it. There went all the self-control he had. His eyes, dangerous and mean stared into yours as he stepped closer, grabbed you by the throat gently and pulled your face closer to his. Your lips parted as you struggled to breath right - not because of his grip around your throat, but because of the proximity. You could feel his body heat and it made you whimper.

“Else you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences. I’m gonna have to teach your bratty self how to behave.” He chuckled darkly. “But something tells me you’d like that, wouldn’t you babygirl?” He could tell by you whimpered that you would most definitely love that.

“Steve,” you were at a loss of words. But you were so ready. “Please…”

He smirked. “You’ve been a bad, bad girl for so long. Teasing me, tormenting me,” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “touching yourself while thinking of me. Who said you could do that? Hmm? Did you ask for permission?”

“No…” you felt your arousal drip out of you at the sound of his lewd words.

“From now on, you will come to me when your greedy, little cunt needs to be taken care of. Or you will touch yourself only when I give you permission to. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Your voice sounded shaky already.

“Yes what?”

Your walls clenched around nothing down there as you uttered the words, “Yes daddy.”

He smiled. “Good girl.” He whispered and as he looked behind you, you saw how his deep blue eyes lit up once he saw something. “But since you’ve been such a brat lately, you still need to be taught a lesson. Don’t you think?”

You nodded. He let go of your throat. “Anytime you want me to stop, just say so. Okay?” You nodded again as he slowly walked the two of you back until your legs hit the couch. He caught you by the arm before you fell backwards. “Bend over the armrest.”

You did what he asked, supporting yourself up with your elbows. And let out a soft moan when you felt his warm hands slipping under your little dress and kneading your butt

“Daddy’s gonna spank you until your pretty little cunt is dripping, is that okay babygirl?” His voice got you all flustered and whiny.

“Yes daddy.”

“Good.” He dragged your underwear down till your ankles, waited for you to step out of them and lifted your dress up. He lifted his hand up in the air and brought it down to spank your ass. You whimpered in pleasure as the tingles died down eventually. “That’s for being a bratty little girl all the time.”

Spank! “That’s for torturing daddy, and teasing him all day when he’s just trying to get work done.”

You let out a little moan as he spanked you again. “That’s for always doing the exact opposite of what I ask you to, causing you to then ask for help for every little thing.” Spank! You moaned louder as his fingers trailed down to your wet folds, teasing you. “Daddy has to help you out with every little thing, isn’t it?” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck, “That’s okay. Daddy loves it.”

Your skin burned under his lips. You were breathless, desperately wanting more.

Spank! His hand lingered on your skin a little longer this time, caressing where it felt sore. “That’s for being a whiny little brat when you don’t always get what you want, when you want it.” Spank! “Such a spoilt brat, aren’t you babygirl?”

You let out a breathless moan. You wanted more. He could tell by the way you pushed your butt out more and more each time after each spank. “Please…”

He smirked and slid his hand further down, stroking your wet folds. “You’re so wet.” He cooed and lifted his hand and spanked you again. And again. And again. You whimpered in pleasure and slight pain.

Spank! He smacked your dripping core instead of your butt. Your whole body tingled as he pulled you up against him again, your sore ass pressing into his erected cock, making both of you groaned under your breaths. “You did so good, babygirl.” His hand traveled to your front and under your dress and he touched your wet core. “You’re so wet for daddy,” He mumbled in your ear, “but you can’t cum yet.” You whined again. He chuckled. “Now you know how it feels when you tease daddy all the time. It’s not fun, is it babygirl?”

“No.” You answered as he gave you space to turn around and face him. “It’s not. I’m sorry.” You stared at his lips and he noticed.

“You know what would make daddy really happy though?” That made you look up into his irresistible eyes. “If you got down on your knees like a good girl, and sucked daddy’s cock and made him feel good.” He leaned in to brush his lips against yours. “Won’t you do that? Won’t you be a good girl for daddy?”

You nodded frantically. Excited. But also needy.

He plopped down onto the couch, manspreading and making you whimper just looking at him. “Come here,” he pointed in between his legs. “Kneel.”

You did as he asked. He took your hand and placed it right on his erection. You bit your lower lip as you felt him; big and hard. Your hands hurried to lower the waistband of his sweats to free his erected cock. The sight of his perfect cock had you whining with need again.

“Go on babygirl. Suck.” His voice was deeper than usual and it sent a shiver along your spine.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock and placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip. Steve held your head gently and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat.

He gripped your hair gently, moaning as he told you how much of a good girl you were. The sounds of his moans and grunts only made you whimper with his cock in your mouth. Your ass was sore, but that was the last thing on your mind. Right now, you needed to be Steve’s good girl.

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum which signified that he wasn’t going to last very long. His taste was all you could focus on; his raw taste and the feeling of his smooth skin against your tongue and the top of your mouth.

He looked down at you and moaned again, he loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. You looked perfect on your knees, taking him so well just like he wanted you to.

You looked up and met his wild, blue eyes. Just to mess with him, you took his cock out of your mouth and teased him a little bit more; licking his length from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. He swore under his breath as you dragged your warm tongue over the slit of his tip lazily.

He looked down at you with a smirk and a warning in his eyes and that was all it took for you to take him back into your mouth and suck on his cock until he came undone all over your tongue.

He gripped your hair, moaning loudly as he came. “Fuck.” He threw his head back to catch his breath. “Such a good girl.” he mumbled, looking down at you as you licked him clean; pulling his sweats back up before you climbed onto his lap, wiggling on purpose.

He pulled you closer, making you grind against his semi-erected cock. You whined in need. “Aww, what is it babygirl? You want daddy?” he cooed, mocking you. He loved the effect his voice had on you.

You nodded, pleading with your eyes as best you could. You needed him so bad, it hurt. “Please daddy.”

He cupped your face and leaned in for a kiss. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could. A gentle, deep kiss; the kind that made your heart flutter and made your knees weak. He undressed you slowly, and you him.

Once done, neither one of you could keep your hands off each other.

“Steve… please,” you mumbled against his lips. He could feel your hunger, which then fueled his. Skin on skin, the desire burning between you two could no longer be ignored.

He smirked. “I know baby, I know...” He whispered against your lips before flipping the two of you around and asking you to turn around and grip the back of the couch.

He got up and stood behind you. You knelt on the couch in front of him, legs spread apart, hands gripping the back of the couch with your back to him. You could feel him right there behind you.

He gripped your hair gently into a makeshift ponytail, and pulled your head back just enough to take your breath away. His soft, warm lips hovered over the side of your throat, kissing along your neck as his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously toying with your clit and making you moan.

“This is all you wanted, huh? To be fucked, and owned. You wanted my cock so badly, didn’t you?” His voice was deep and raspy when he spoke, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds. “All this time, you’ve been practically begging me to fuck you. Well now’s the time baby. Go on, beg for me.”

You whimpered. Your body was on fire. You couldn’t take it any longer. You begged; wantonly, shamelessly. He chuckled and tugged harder on your hair, making you whimper and moan even more. “That’s a good girl.”

He gripped each side of your hips, tightly; spreading your legs apart a little more as he aligned his cock to your entrance. You shivered in anticipation as you waited. You couldn’t see him, and in front of you, through the large glass floor-to-ceiling window, you had a lovely view of the city lights but that didn’t matter anymore.

He hand reached around and gently grabbed you by the throat again. “Are we good, babygirl? You okay?”

You nodded quickly, heart racing, your body heated. “Yes, yes please...” You mumbled.

He gave you a gentle kiss on your cheek, his stubble pressing into your skin. You closed your eyes and bit your lower lip as his soft lips kissed along your lower jaw. “I’m gonna fuck your sweet little cunt until you’re shaking…” he murmured, more so to himself.

With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely. You heard his ragged breaths right by your ear as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he pounded into you.

You shuddered as you felt all of him, while he mumbled about how good you were. He panted in your ear, kissing the side of your face as his hand left your throat and roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could, memorizing the shape of you until he finally cupped your core and played with your swollen clit. Your moans were incessant, you could already feel a sore throat coming.

“You feel so good, baby…” he mumbled, slamming into you relentlessly, stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room.

“Fuck…” his voice cracked as he moaned under his breath.

You could feel your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud. Your body moved along with his, your legs felt numb as he relentlessly slammed into you.

Your moans got louder and he bent down to kiss along your shoulder blades and the back of your neck. “Take me, babygirl. Take all of me like you’ve dreamt of so many times…” he whispered against your skin as he rocked into you, faster and faster. He could barely hold it together himself but he had to give you what you’ve been wanting this whole time.

You were a teary mess, he couldn’t see but he could tell by the sound of your voice. The view of the city in front of you was now getting blurrier with each passing second. Yet, you still wanted more.

You cried out loud in pleasure as his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him more and more each time he filled you up. You felt a sweet pressure forming in between your legs, intensifying each time the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive spot.

“Steve…” you cried, unable to handle the pleasure. It was overwhelming.

He slowed down for just a second. “I’m right here, baby.” He kissed the side of your face. “I’m here, it’s okay. Are you gonna cum for me? You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for daddy? Hmm?”

You nodded, now a whimpering, tear-stained mess. He took you higher… and higher…

“Cum for me.” his voice was all it took for you to come undone. You came hard without any warning.

He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back; kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm as your walls clenched around him, squeezing him like he had dreamt of last night.

He gripped your hair in his fist and tugged on it again, moaning right in your ear as he felt his orgasm forming. Your walls tightened around him, and he groaned as he came undone right after you; buried deep within you. His warm cum shoot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance.

You were struggling to hold yourself up, your legs shaking and your body trembling. But Steve held you against him as he threw himself on the couch, pulling you into his lap. His body was damp and warm, and you loved the feeling of his strong arms around you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck.

He rubbed along your sides as he whispered comforting words in your ear. His hands rubbing your body everywhere he could. “You did so good, baby.”

---

You don’t remember getting to Steve’s bed the previous night, but that’s where you woke up; under his warm sheets, a pair of lips kissing your face gently.

“Wake up, Miss.”

You groaned. “Don’t call me that.” You mumbled from under the sheets. You tried sitting up and you felt sore in places you didn’t know one could feel sore. Steve caught the frown on your face and when you looked up and to send him a death glare, he just chuckled.

You noticed that he was dressed already.

“Come on now. We have to go.”

You hid under the blankets again. “No.”

He sighed. Of course, he should’ve known he’d have to deal with all your antics again. “You need to get home, and I need to get to work. Now come on, we have to go.”

You peaked from under the blankets. “Give me a kiss first.” You bargained.

He rolled his eyes and walked up to his bed, leaning over you. “You’re just gonna pull me back into bed with you and then we’re both not going to want to leave at all.”

You held both your hands out, “Just one kiss, I promise.”

He gave in, he leaned in and cupped your face with one hand and pressed his lips to yours. It started out all gentle and slow but then you pulled him closer by the back of his neck and he accidentally let out a moan. You tried pulling him back under the covers but he pulled away right before he gave in completely.

“No.” He pulled away. “Home, now.” He used the same tone as he did when waking you up for work each day.

You groaned and eventually, reluctantly, got out of his bed.

---

Everything was going great after that night.

Your days just got a whole lot better with Steve around. Sure, you kept being the brat that you are, just so he could drag you all the way to your bedroom and ‘teach you how to behave’ at any time during the day.

It was safe to say that you began catching feelings for each other. You brightened up Steve’s days and him yours. Bathroom quickies, morning sex, and spending nights together quickly became more frequent than you expected.

You teased him just the same, and it almost always resulted in him fucking you just how you wanted him to.

All was well.

Until your parents came home for a weekend out of nowhere. And they left just as quickly as they came but their arrival made Steve feel terrible. Steve couldn’t help but feel guilty when your father asked him if he was taking good care of you. Obviously, he guarded your little secret well. But he felt terrible, like he was betraying your parents.

He wasn’t supposed to do this. Above all, he shouldn’t have even thought that he could be with you. Really, what was he thinking? This was wrong. He worked for your parents, and you. This was unprofessional. Inappropriate.

You noticed that his stand-offish manner remained even after your parents were gone. So you confronted him about it one morning.

“Is everything okay between us?”

He looked up at you, and nodded. Truth is, he didn’t know how to let you down.

“Steve, seriously.”

He sighed. He walked over to where you stood and faced you with a look which gave away what he might have been thinking all this time. “This has to stop.”

Your heart raced. “What does?”

He pointed between you and him. “This.”

You were sure you could fix whatever was wrong. “If you’re worried about mom and dad finding out then-,”

He cut you off. “No. Listen to me. I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing here, like I’m leading you on because… let’s face it, we can never be together.” He could visibly see how he was breaking your heart. He took a deep breath. “I should have tried to make you see sense. I shouldn’t have… used you. I can’t help but feel like I’m using you, I-,”

You cut him off this time. “Steve, you’re not.” He stepped forward to cup his face but he caught your hands before you could, pulling away from you.

“You don’t understand. This… this can’t happen. It probably isn’t real. What you feel for me could be something else and you’re mistaken and-,”

You couldn’t believe him. “How dare you?” You got defensive really quickly, trying to hide how it hurt.

He got quiet. Maybe this was the wrong way of dealing with this situation?

You straightened your back and took a step away from him. “Look, if you don’t want me anymore then just say so. Don’t make silly excuses, we’re not children.”

He spoke up quickly. “All I’m saying is that you’re young. Perhaps you’re not thinking straight. Look, I’ve mistaken lust for love too in the past, when I was younger. It’s not-,”

You stopped him before he hurt you even more. You were hurt, but mostly angry at this point. “Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean that my feelings aren’t real or valid, or that I don’t know what I want. Also you have no right to water down my feelings like that. Who are you to tell me what I feel? How fucking dare you?”

He realized he must have dealt with this differently. But it was too late now, he hurt you. The sight of your watery eyes was unbearable, knowing that he’s the one who caused it. I’m sorry, babygirl. “Y/N, I’m just-,”

You raised your voice. “Enough!” You didn’t let your tears fall in front of him. “Screw you, Steve.” You grabbed your bag and made your way out of your house, got in the car and drove to work in anger and your heart aching.

You cried in the car before you got out. What happened? Everything was so perfect. Why did he feel this way all of a sudden? To a point where he made himself believe that what you felt for him wasn’t real? Where did that even come from? Did he think that you were just a confused young girl, seeking attention?

That bit really hurt. It hurt more because you fell for him, hard and it wasn’t something you could control.

You started your day rough, and it seemed it was only going to get worse because you’d be replaying the scene from the kitchen this morning all day long.

As for Steve, he was equally a mess as you were. He kept cursing himself as he tried his hardest to go about his day but the thought of your teary face this morning was haunting him in broad daylight.

He could’ve been less mean, more understanding. You were human after all. How could he have hurt you like that when all he ever cared for this whole time was your well-being?

He was upstairs doing something when your bedroom door caught his eye. He stepped in and immediately regretted all that he did this morning. It was unfair towards you and now he felt even more guilty.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, standing in the middle of your room. It smelt like you; floral, fierce and enticing. His favorite girl, how could have hurt you so much? He felt guilty, but perhaps he failed to see how happy he actually made you.

His eyes fell on your freshly made bed. In the past month following that night at his apartment, he had spent quite some nights here. Memories of all times spent with you, not just for the past month, but the past years as well flashed in his mind.

Oh he had fucked up.

He walked out of your bedroom, already taking his gloves off. He needed to change and go find you and apologize before it gets worse.

You were in the middle of yet another business call when you heard a knock on your door. You quickly wrapped up the call and called out in annoyance, “Come in.” You had been quite moody since this morning.

Steve was the last person you expected to enter your office this afternoon. You stood up immediately; not having the heart to tell him to get out. All your anger vanished the minute you saw him standing there, all that was left was the hurt. And fuck did it hurt.

He closed the door behind him and lingered around the door itself, still wondering how he should start his apology. Also the broken look in your eyes felt like a thousand daggers piercing him all at the same time.

“Came to tell me some more about how much of a stupid, young and confused girl I am?” You sassed. Your go-to method of dealing with emotions was to be as sassy and as ruthless as humanly possible, Steve was aware of that.

He sighed. “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have said all that.” He took a deep breath and kept going. “I felt terrible when I spoke to your parents.” He finally confessed. “They trust me to take good care of you, like a guardian. But I have been…” he couldn’t find the right words. “I felt guilty. And it’s not your fault, but I couldn’t figure out how to deal with all this. I thought maybe if I push you away it would… I don’t know. I don’t know, Y/N. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

You listened, trying to grasp the reasons why he said what he said this morning.

“Then what made you think that I might be confused about what I feel?” You questioned.

He took a step forward, feeling terrible now that he was voicing out everything. “I don’t know, I thought that you- that maybe you… I-,’

You cut him off, repeating your question because you could tell he had an answer but didn’t want to tell you. “What made you think so, Steve? The truth, please.”

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds. “I thought that perhaps you weren’t sure about your feelings… for me. Why would you fall for someone like me, I mean, I work for your parents.” He let out a dry chuckle. “I thought that maybe you were mistaking everything that’s been happening since that night at my apartment to be… something it’s not.”

You scoffed. You simplified and rephrased what he had just said, “So you think that I’ve been going on about how much you mean to me just because you fuck me good?”

That felt like a slap across his face. “That’s not-,”

“Do you even like me? Or is it just… I don’t know, convenient sex to you?”

He had the same look of hurt on his face which you had this morning. “Don’t you dare say that. You know how I feel about you.” He had told you many times how he feels and he meant it. The fact that you even questioned him hurt.

You scoffed and nodded. You walked around your desk, stopping at the side of it. “Take a seat.”

He looked confused for a moment. “What?”

“Take a seat, Steve.” You pointed to one of the chairs and he walked right over without any question.

Your heart burned as you looked at him, wanting to just shower him with tender love and affection but you had to clear some things up first.

He looked up at you with his deep blue eyes, wondering if he had lost you for good. It would kill him if that were the case. He could no longer imagine his days without you.

“Do you remember the night of my 20th birthday, Steve?” You asked.

He looked down at his lap and cracked a little smile. “That was 6 years ago, Y/N. It’s a little blurry.”

You smiled at the memory. “Mom and dad were away, as usual. But they promised they would make it back before the night ends, for my birthday dinner. But then, they both forgot about it and later blamed it on the workload. I went to bed crying that night, like I had all day.” As you narrated that day, it helped him remember a little bit. You continued, “But then someone knocked on my door. It was you, standing there with a little cupcake and a candle. It was your day off but you were the only one who didn’t forget that it was my birthday.”

He remembered it now. He remembered how he found your little teary face when you opened your bedroom door and how you jumped in his arms.

He remained quiet.

You kept going. “The year after that, I begged mom and dad to be home for Christmas because I was dying to have some family time with them. But they called and said they couldn’t make it. Do you know who put with my shit and helped me decorate the entire house with obnoxious Christmas music on? You.”

He smiled a little bigger at the memory. He remembered how you pouted and followed him around the entire day, asking him to help you with decoration. He remembers the way his heart fluttered when he saw the biggest, most genuine smile on your face after he agreed to do so. He would do anything just to see that same smile on your face right now.

You stepped a little closer.

“Do you remember the times when I used to go clubbing almost every weekend? And you would have to track me down and bring me home safe at like three in the morning every time?” You chuckled at the memory. “And then you sat me down one day and asked me to get my shit together.”

He remembered that as well. That was one of the only times he had been so strict with you. He simply could not watch you waste your life away like that and put yourself in danger. He was glad you listened.

“And all those times when I missed mom and dad but I couldn’t call them because I knew they were always busy, so I called you. At odd hours and you would always show up. And you’d stay for as long as I needed you to. And I’d drag you along to go get ice-cream with me in the middle of the night. You remember that?”

He looked up at you and his smile vanished. You had tears streaming down your face. “Y/N…”

“It was you, Steve. It’s always been you.” You fought the need to cry. “I didn’t fall for you because of that night at your apartment. All these years, all those mundane things added up to now, when I can finally tell you how I feel and how important you are to me. And when you try to reduce it to nothing but lust and confusion, it really hurts.”

He got up from his seat. “Baby… I’m so, so sorry.”

You wiped your tears away. “It’s okay if you want nothing to do with me. None of this will affect your job, and my parents will never find out. You can walk out of this, I’ll understand. But don’t tell me what I feel for you isn’t real. Because it is. I love you, and that’s real.”

He closed the distance between the two of you, grabbing your face and to pull you closer gently. “Shh…” he whispered, one of his arms circling your waist and pulling you closer, “I’m not gonna walk out. I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed his lips to yours, gently. He kissed you passionately; arms wrapping around your body, tongue stroking the inside of your mouth while he occasionally bit down on your lip. Your hands found their way into his soft hair, you tugged on it gently while moaning softly into the kiss.

He gave you a second to catch your breath. “I adore you, babygirl. And that’s real too.” He mumbled against your lips before kissing you again while gently pushing you against the edge of your desk until you got on top of it. He stepped in between your legs and deepened the kiss. You gripped his hair and tugged a little more and he let out a quiet, breathy moan.

His warm hand caressed your thigh, given your dress had bunched up higher than before. His other hand gently held your lower jaw as he kissed and nibbled on your skin, down your neck; making you squirm and forget all about the world outside. Here, with him now, was all that mattered.

You felt his fingers lazily making their way across your inner thighs. His knuckles gently stroked your clothed core and you leaned your head back at the sudden wave of pleasure; letting out a soft moan.

Steve gently toyed with your still clothed, now wet, core. Your hand tugged on his sweater and you pulled him closer, placing your lips on his again. Your other hand dipped in between your bodies and you unbuckled his pants as quickly as you could. You felt him bite down on your skin when you palmed him through his underwear.

“Steve… I want you…” You whispered in his ear.

You moaned as he kissed his way up to your neck. “I know, baby. I know…” he pulled away to look at you with hooded eyes.

You lowered his underwear and pulled out his cock. He rapidly dragged your underwear down your legs and threw them somewhere behind him. He spread your legs open and aligned his cock to your core.

You could feel his tip, leaking with precum, slightly pressing against your clit. Slowly, he slipped inside of you, groaning at how tight you were. You felt his length stretching you out entirely. He started rocking in and out of you slowly, then eventually, he sped up.

“Steve…”You moaned out loud, feeling all of him; stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you to the point where the only thing you could focus on was his body.

“I’m right here, baby…” he whispered, pounding into you relentlessly, as he bent down to kiss your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and mewls in the process.

You whined upon hearing the wet, slapping sounds your bodies made when they came in contact with one another. Mixed with his scent and the growls leaving his mouth, it was all too sinful, too good.

“You’re all mine.” He stared down at you, his ocean blue eyes showing you all the love he had for you. You could only nod, unable to form coherent sentences while he pounded into you like he owned you. He leaned in again, kissing you softly. “Say it, babygirl. Tell me you’re mine.” he whispered against your lips.

Something about how he sounded so calm even while he was fucking you hard made you tremble under him. “I’m yours…” you whispered, shuddering under him. He smirked and sped up into you again, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him like you were made for it.

Hearing you moan and squirm under him only encouraged him to thrust deeper into you, he wanted to feel all of you and he wanted you to feel all of him. He wanted you to know that he was here, and was not planning on going anywhere. He was relentless. He moaned right in your ear as his body moved perfectly against yours. “I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you so, so much...”

You whined; feeling a thin layer of sweat covering both your bodies as your walls milked him perfectly. A tear fell from your eye, out of pleasure. He was quick to wipe it away. He bent down and kissed your lips, pounding into you rapidly like his life depended on it.

“I love you more…”

He felt you clench and tighten around him, “Cum for me, baby...” He whispered, his voice strained and raspy. Your mind was foggy by now, and it took your brain a few seconds to even process his words.

Not even a few moments later, you felt him twitch inside of you; his cock throbbing against your walls. He came with a growl, gripping your hips. You whined as you came around him as well, hard and fast.

He didn’t pull his cock out of you as he engulfed you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin as he held you against his warm body. You could hear his frantic heartbeats, and he could feel yours.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again.

You pulled away from his hug just a little so you could look at him. “Hey,” you reached out to touch his face. “Stop apologizing. We’re gonna be okay.”

He smiled down at you. “I’m gonna have to love you in secret.” He leaned down and rubbed the tip of his nose to yours. You giggled.

“Not for long. We’ll figure something out.” You grabbed him by his face and pulled him closer, and whispered dramatically, “Or maybe we could run away.” Your words made his smile. You pulled him in for a kiss, and whispered, “Till then, I’ll love you when no one is around.”

#butler!steve #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #stever rogers x reader #steve rogers au #marvel

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hockey-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Is There An Us? ~ Brock Boeser

Summary: Your relationship with your neighbour was just about casual sex and that’s all it was ever going to be. Or so you thought.

Word Count: ~7k

Warnings: smut, arguments, language

Standing in the quiet hallway of your apartment you listen to the sound of the elevator whirring as it approached the floor. Grabbing the handle of your bag you readjust it on your shoulder, sighing as you wait for what felt like forever. Perhaps the six flights of stairs really would have been the better option. But just as the scales are tipping in favour of jumping ship and heading for the stairwell the polished metal doors glide open.

Your eyes drift up to the man stepping out of the elevator. He seemed to be around your age, tall and attractive. You watch as he looks up from his phone, locking it without looking back down when he sees you. After stepping off the elevator and onto the solid floor he visibly pauses, eyes glancing up and down your body. You hold yourself back from rolling your eyes at the blatant way he was checking you out. “Hey,” he says with a slight nod.

“Hey,” you reply, stepping to the side of him as you stick your arm in front of the closing elevator door.

You glance back at him one more time. His eyes were still on you but he only looks up to look into your eyes when he notices you had looked back. Pulling your arm back you let the doors close, pressing the lobby button on the elevator. You hadn’t even realized that your heart was racing a little after the interaction till you were leaning against the elevator railing, already replaying the interaction. He wasn’t that attractive that he could do that and still seem intriguing to you…was he?

A couple weeks later you were digging through your purse, your anxiety levels bubbling up with each passing, keyless minute. You didn’t need your keys to lock your apartment door, it came with a keyless code entry instead. When you first moved in, thrilled with the ease of it all, you hadn’t realized what else would be incredibly easy…leaving your keys with the front door fob on your kitchen counter.

“Need to get in?”

Flinching you whirl around, looking in the direction of the voice. Not only were you locked out alone it was also getting late and the darkness had started to worry you standing outside the building alone. But you recognize the figure immediately, your panic subsidizing slightly. The man from the elevator a couple weeks before. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Chuckling he shakes his head, his keys already in his hand as he steps closer to you, reaching his arm out to hold his key fob near the sensor. The light flashes green and he pulls it open, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in ahead of him.

“So you can check me out again?”

He raises his eyebrows, glancing into the empty apartment lobby. “I could have left you out here.”

Scoffing you step through the open door. “You’re kind of an asshole,” you comment, already walking to the elevators, pressing the button just a little too hard.

“I wouldn’t…” he calls, jogging slightly to get to the elevators before you could disappear, potentially skewing your opinion of him forever. “…wouldn’t have left you out there.”

Keeping your body facing the closed elevator doors you turn your head to look over at him. “Oh, wow, sorry, you’re a real gentleman then,” you reply sarcastically.

“I, uh…look, I’m sorry, I think I gave you a bad first impression,” he stutters, seeming flustered. “I’m Brock, by the way.”

The elevator dings as the doors slide open and you step into the brightly lit space. “Y/N,” you reply, voice quiet and uncertain. Were you really going to let his past behaviour slide simply because he got a little flustered and muttered a hollow sorry?

You watch as he reaches over, pressing the number 6 for you both. “Did you just move in recently?”

“Just over a month ago,” you tell him, your shoulder pressing against the elevator wall as you lean against it. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple years,” Brock tells you. “I’m in 625 in case you ever need anything.”

You stare up at Brock blankly for a few minutes. Were you supposed to tell him your apartment number? Was he really offering to help you out in a time of crisis beyond being locked out of the apartment building? Or was he suggestion something beyond friendly and helpful with that? “636,” you eventually blurt out, feeling your cheeks redden immediately. “I’m, uh, I’m in 636…in case you need something,” you clarify just as the doors open.

“I’ll remember that,” Brock chuckles, stepping off the elevator after you. He turns in the opposite direction of you, glancing back with a smile. “See you around.”

“See you,” you call, heading down the hallway to your apartment.

And see him around you did. It seemed like you ran into him with greater frequency than anyone else who lived in the building. In the hallway, in the elevator, in the parking lot. Perhaps he was just easy to notice, tall and handsome, but you seemed to see him more than anyone else that lived in your building. And you couldn’t deny the little crush you had developed on him. Your heart would race when he would stop the elevator doors from closing to let you get in. Your cheeks would get warm when he would open the front door for you, cracking jokes about being there to save the day even though you always did have your key.

Saying you were happy it was Friday was beyond an understatement as you yank the apartment lobby door open. Your day seemed to have gone on forever, everything so much more difficult than it should have been. You were stressed and frazzled and you were ready to be doing anything other than thinking about work. As you get to the elevator you hear the front door opening again, drawing your attention. Your eyes land on Brock and you can’t help but smile a little. “Hey,” you greet as he walks over, your voice a little deflated.

“Hey.” Brock watches you for a split second, seeming contemplative. “Is everything…okay?”

Sighing loudly you nod, “just a really long, really bad day. I’ll be fine. How was yours?”

“Not bad,” Brock tells you honestly, stepping into the elevator after you. “What are you doing now?”

Shrugging you press your shoulder blades against the wall elevator, looking up at him. “Anything to get my mind off the day.”

“I have a bottle of wine at my place if you think that might help.”

Smiling softly you nod, pulling away from the elevator wall when the doors open. “I definitely think that would help.”

So you follow Brock down the hallway in the opposite direction of your own apartment, never having been down the hallway before.

You step into Brock’s apartment, immediately noticing how much more spacious it was than your own. Suddenly you realize you didn’t really know much about him, only knew what you had assumed about him. You didn’t know how old he was, what he did for a living, didn’t know if he had roommates or even his last name. Kicking off your shoes you follow him into the kitchen, watching him grab a bottle of white wine from the fridge. “White okay?”

Nodding you press your elbows against the bar height counter, leaning down onto it. “That’s great.”

Brock pours two glasses of wine, setting one in front of you. “So, you want to talk about it?”

Picking up the glass you take a sip, the flavour unfamiliar. It didn’t taste anything like the nine dollar bottom shelf bottles you had gotten used to. “Not really,” you reply honestly. The last thing you wanted to do was recount exactly how stressful the day had been.

Brock laughs and nods to the left, your eyes following to notice the living room. “Want to go sit down?”

Nodding you follow Brock into the living room, carefully settling down onto the couch, the glass of wine in your hand as you curl one of your legs under the other, facing Brock on the couch. “What do you…do?” You ask, gazing around the living room. While you were living in the same apartment building everything in his unit seemed to be just a higher caliber than your own.

“I play hockey.”

Glancing back over to him you giggle quietly. “I mean, what do you do for a job?”

“Hockey,” Brock repeats, chuckling.

You blink a couple times letting it process before nodding slowly, eyes glancing around the apartment. From what you knew about professional athlete’s salaries it did all check out. “Wow.” You look back to Brock, unsure exactly how to react. “Impressive.”

“Yeah, you seem impressed.” His voice is filled with sarcasm and the little smirk on his lips tells you he’s amused by your lacklustre response.

“I didn’t,” you begin, pausing to laugh softly, glancing down at the couch as your cheeks warm up. “I didn’t mean anything by it...just not what I was expecting.”

Brock takes a drink of his wine, his eyebrows lifted slightly as he sets the glass back onto the coffee table, clinking quietly against the glass table. “I don’t look like an athlete?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, laughing as you reach over, playfully hitting his arm. “Stop...you know I didn’t mean that. You do look very fit...I mean, like from what I’ve seen.”

“So you’re allowed to say that but you wanted to like kill me for checking you out that one time.”

“That’s different,” you protest. Lifting your glass to your lips you take another large sip of your wine, setting it down and curling your other leg onto the couch you lean your side against the back of the couch. “I wasn’t like...fucking eyeing you up and down so blatantly.”

“Blatantly?” Brock enquires.

Groaning you roll your eyes, tipping your head to the side to rest on the back of couch, giggling. “Whatever...yes, you’re hot, is that what you want to hear?”

Brock shrugs, the smirk on his lips only growing. “Well I’m not going to say I don’t like hearing it...but especially from you.”

You swallow heavily as you stare over at him, an overwhelming urge to reach over and touch him. To kiss him, to let him run his hands and not just his eyes over your body. Your eyes flick down to his lips for a second, your own parted slightly as an unsteady breath leaves them.

You slip one leg out from underneath you, sliding closer to him on the couch. Brock looks over at you for a couple moments, contemplative and tentative before leaning closer. His hand slips along your waist, gently tugging you a little closer as he brings his lips closer to your own.

Your eyes flutter shut as you bring one hand up to his shoulder, sliding behind his neck as you wait for him to kiss you. The moment seems to last for longer than it should before Brock presses his lips to yours. But as soon as he kisses you there isn’t another second of hesitation. Your own lips are eager, your body relaxing as you let Brock pull you closer. Your free hand moves to his arm, grasping at his shoulder as his entire arm circles around you.

The stress of the day was already so far out of your mind, so completely wrapped up in the moment. You clumsily pull one leg over one of Brock’s settling down onto his thigh. Your hips grind down against him and you’re not even sure if it was voluntary at this point, your body seeming to be taking over, needing a release. You moan against his lips as Brock brings his hands to your hips, guiding you to continue moving. Pulling back you gasp softly, fingers curling into the fabric of Brock’s shirt.

“Feel good?” Brock asks, a smirk on his lips. You can tell he’s feeling pretty cocky, knowing he didn’t even have to do anything to make you moan.

“Yes,” you whisper, leaning back in. Your lips meet his again, fast and eager as you bring your leg to the other side of him, now fully settled on his lap. You can feel that he’s just as painfully turned on as you are and you pull back. Your hands grasp at his shirt, tugging it up in an effort to signify that you wanted to speed things up.

Brock takes over, pulling his own shirt off before swiftly moving to yours, pulling it over your head easily. You can feel his fingers on your bra strap a minute later, the familiar relief of the fabric loosening around your body as he unhooks it, the straps slipping down your arms. His hands slide slowly up your bare sides as your lips connect with his again. You feel a shiver run up your spine under his touch, confident but gentle and slow.

A couple minutes later you pull back, sliding yourself back as you move onto the ground, your knees hitting the soft rug. Brock groans quietly as he watches you get down onto your knees. Your hands move to his jeans, fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

Brock’s large hands are on yours not long after, lifting them away from his belt as he finishes taking it off himself, lifting his hips to slide his jeans and underwear off for you. Reaching back over you gently wrap your hand around his hard length, your eyes flitting up to his as you lean forward, tongue running over the tip of his dick.

“Fuck,” Brock groans, his head tipping back on the couch. But as you take him into your mouth as far as you can he brings his head forward again, hands pulling your hair out of your face to watch you.

You continue what you’re doing, spurred on by the quiet groans and stifled moans coming from Brock. You feel your desire growing with each passing second, squeezing your legs together to try to and get some relief.

It’s not long before Brock is stopping you. “You’re so good at that,” he mutters, hands under your arms as he pulls you back to your feet. You watch him stand up a second later, leaning down to kiss you again. He slides his hand into yours a second later, pulling away and down the hallway to a room on the left.

You look around the dimly lit bedroom before Brock places his hands onto your waist, pushing you backwards till you hit the mattress. His bed is soft and comfortable as you scoot backwards on it, watching Brock leaning down, his hands unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them off with ease.

You swallow heavily when Brock runs his hand up your inner thigh, one arm supporting his weight as he leans down to kiss you again. His fingers brush over the fabric of your underwear and your hand clamps down onto his forearm. Your body language is less than subtle and Brock takes the hint to hurry up, pushing the fabric aside as his fingers run along your folds. Your hips jolt as his fingers find your clit, gentle and slow when he first gets to it. But as you stop being able to stifle your moans Brock increases the speed and pressure till you’re squirming underneath him, moaning quietly. “Oh fuck, I’m…I’m close,” you gasp out.

Brock continues what he’s doing, your fingers digging harder into his arm. Your eyes shut when the familiar rush comes over you, your body hot as the waves of pleasure rush from your core. You push Brock’s hand back when you’re through your orgasm, clit sensitive from the constant pressure. “Fuck,” you whisper, it’s the only thing you can think. You were far from a virgin but you weren’t used to men caring about your pleasure so much that they would make you come even before themselves.

Brock leans down, kissing you gently before laying down beside you. Tipping your head to the side you furrow your eyebrows. “You don’t want to…,” you drift off, watching him hesitantly.

“I mean, yeah,” he tells you with a chuckle. “But it’s up to you.”

You press your hand into the mattress, pushing yourself up and swinging one of your legs over Brock’s body, feeling him pressing against you, still just as hard. “I want to,” you tell him, resting your hands on Brock’s chest, leaning down and kissing him again. “Do you have a condom?” You whisper against his lips.

Brock nods and leans across the bed as you move off his lap, watching as he grabs one from the nightside table. He puts it on easily, glancing over at you, as if hoping you would just get the message that he wanted you back on top. You giggle quietly as you slide your leg back over him. Reaching down you wrap your hand around his length, guiding him to your entrance as you sink down onto him. You inhale sharply, pulling your hand away as you take over with your hips.

Brock places his hands on your hips, leaving them there gently, letting you go at your own pace. “You’re so fucking hot,” Brock mutters, looking up at you. You feel Brock bring his hand to your clit again and you tip your head back, gasping softly.

“Keep going, please,” you plead, the added sensation against your clit tipping you onto the fast track to another orgasm.

Brock does exactly as you say, his fingers rubbing gentle, consistent circles on your clit. “I-I’m,” you whine, feeling your body getting tired and hot and overwhelmed from being built up to your second orgasm so soon after the first. You’re shaky as you continue moving your hips, trying so hard to keep going as you ride through your second orgasm.

Brock’s hands tighten on your hips, stopping your movements as he takes over, hips smacking against your ass he thrusts into you. It’s only a couple more minutes before he’s slowing down, groaning softly as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your slightly clammy bodies together. “So good,” he hums, pressing his lips to your forehead.

When you catch your breath and your heart has slowed down you pull your body off of Brock, rolling onto your back beside him. “You’re a pretty good stress reliever,” you joke, turning your head to look over at him.

“I’m glad I could help,” Brock chuckles. Sitting up he climbs off the bed, removing the condom and heading into the en-suite bathroom.

While he’s in the bathroom you scurry about to get your own clothes back on. When he comes back into the room you watch him pause for a moment, glancing at your fully clothed body. “Are you, uh, leaving?”

You glance over at the door and then back to Brock. You had simply assumed that’s what you should do, not thinking too much about it. “Um,” you hum, shrugging. “I was planning to.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll uh, walk you out…home?” Brock comments, pulling his own clothes back on with a slightly flustered speed.

Giggling you walk over, grasping Brock’s hand as he reaches for a pair of sweatpants hanging over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. “I can walk down the hallway alone,” you assure him, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Okay,” Brock chuckles, still seeming a little taken aback by your hasty exit.

“Okay,” you repeat, stepping back and towards Brock’s bedroom door. “Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

So you gather your few belongings, heading out of Brock’s apartment and down the hallway to your own apartment.

A couple weeks later you find yourself standing in front of Brock’s apartment door. It was pretty late at night and you had been contemplating what you were about to do for far too long. Perhaps if you had just bit the bullet the first time the thoughts crossed your mind the time wouldn’t have been such a problem. Eventually you bring your hand to the door, knocking gently. Maybe if you didn’t knock too loud you wouldn’t wake him on the off chance he was asleep.

But the door swings open a couple minutes later and you can see the glow of the TV behind Brock, indicating you hadn’t woken him up. “Hey,” you greet sheepishly.

“Hi,” Brock replies, clearly confused but not unhappy with your presence. “What’s up?”

“Are you busy?”

Brock shakes his head, glancing back at the TV. “Not at all.”

You glance around the empty hallway before reaching over, fingers curling into Brock’s shirt and pulling him down, your lips on his eagerly. Brock responds quickly, his arm wrapping around your body and pulling you into his apartment, his other arm closing the door swiftly. “Let’s go to your bedroom,” you whisper against his lips and Brock takes your hand, guiding you to his bedroom without a second of hesitation.

And for months things continue just like that with Brock. Sometimes you would text him and get him to come to your apartment, sometimes you would run into him on the elevator or in the hallway and you would both end up back at his apartment, sometimes you would simply head to his apartment hoping he was there. But that’s all things ever were. Occasionally you would watch part of a movie together before or lay in bed talking for hours after. But your relationship with him revolved entirely around sex.

But Brock wasn’t the only guy in your life. You had met Kyle at the gym a month after you first met Brock and had started casually seeing him. No strings attached with either person, so you figured there would be no harm done. You knew what you were truly doing though, deep down you knew the truth was that Kyle was a distraction. You were far more attracted to Brock, craved his touch, loved the late night conversations. But he wasn’t going to commit to you, hadn’t even taken you out on a date. So you found someone to keep yourself from getting too hung up on him, to keep your feelings from getting involved.

You had just gone out for dinner with Kyle, now heading back to your apartment to hang out for the rest of the evening. You walk into the apartment lobby, freezing when you see Brock standing by the elevator. Just as you’re contemplating a way out of the situation Brock looks over his shoulder, doing a double take when he realizes it’s you and another guy. You quickly let go of Kyle’s hand, realizing it was too late anyway.

Kyle continues walking to the elevator, completely oblivious to the tension that had settled on the lobby. “Hi,” you greet Brock, barely able to make eye contact.

“Hi,” he replies coldly. “Having a good night?”

Swallowing heavily you nod, eyes glued to the ground. “Not bad,” you say quietly.

“Hey man, I’m Brock,” Brock says to Kyle, his voice cold. He didn’t need to introduce himself, you knew he was making some kind of point but you weren’t sure what or why.

“Hey,” Kyle replies, his tone friendly and light. “Kyle…how do you two know each other?”

You glance from Kyle and then back to Brock. Brock stares at you, waiting for you to give an answer. “We…,” you begin, trailing off, not knowing what to say. You were always bad at lying and you didn’t know if Brock was going to make it even harder for you to lie.

“We used to hook up,” Brock replies, his tone unwavering.

You feel your heart begin to hammer, freezing as you stare at Brock in shock. The elevator opening draws you out of your stunned silence and you reach over, placing your hand in Brock’s path, stopping him from getting on the elevator. “I was here first,” Brock grumbles.

“I want to talk to you,” you tell him, looking over at Kyle. “Can you please just meet me in my apartment?”

Kyle hesitates, seeming confused and concerned but he simply nods, stepping into the elevator alone.

Once the doors close you look up at Brock, eyebrows raised. “What the fuck, Brock?”

“What?”

Shaking your head you cross your arms over your chest. “You can’t just…you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“The truth?” Brock questions.

“But you can’t just…you just can’t, okay?”

“Can’t what?”

“Tell people we’ve been sleeping together.”

Brock shakes his head, scoffing. “Why not?”

“I…because, Brock, that’s personal information.”

Brock chuckles, looking away from you for a moment. “It’s my personal information too, I can do whatever I want with it.”

“Why are you being such a dick?” You snap, frustrated and annoyed. Sure, he was right, he could tell anyone he wanted that you two had been sleeping together multiple times a week for months. But he also could have chosen to be a gentleman and keep his mouth shut, sparing you from having to deal with the issues this would cause with Kyle.

“Me?” Brock exclaims, shaking his head. “You’re the one running around with other guys.”

You stare up at Brock in stunned silence. “Running around with other guys?” You question, shaking your head. “I’ve been seeing Kyle for months, I haven’t been running around with multiple. Not that it would matter if I was, that’s none of your business.”

“Months?” Brock’s voice is suddenly quieter and his eyes are soft as he stares down at you. “What do you mean you’ve been seeing him for months? We’ve been sleeping together for months.”

“I don’t know…we’ve just been casually dating. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal,” Brock echoes, nodding as he reaches over, pressing the button for the elevator again, indicating he was done.

“Brock,” you whisper, turning to him. “Brock,” you repeat, beyond confused. You were almost certain he’d been seeing other women, he just had better timing. It’s not like you owed him an explanation, there was no reason for him to be upset. “Can you not just walk away from this conversation?”

“What do you want me to say?” Brock snaps, looking down at you.

“Why are you mad right now?”

“Because you’re fucking some other guy.”

It takes you a few minutes for your mind to wrap around what he said and what it meant. “Are you jealous?”

Brock looks down at you, jaw clenched. He doesn’t respond for a minute, looking back at the numbers above the elevator as they count down towards the lobby. “Yeah, maybe I am.”

“Why?” You whisper.

“What do you mean, why? Because I like you, Y/N.”

You reach over, grabbing Brock’s wrist and gently pulling him to face you. “Do you actually like me or do you just like fucking me?”

Brock glances towards the elevator, the doors opening. Brock slides his hand out of the grasp you have around his wrist, grasping your hand and slipping his fingers between yours as he pulls you onto the elevator. “I like you,” he tells you as the doors close, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. It’s so soft and gentle and you can’t help but melt into his grasp. You slide one hand up over his shoulders, leaning up onto your tip toes. He gently wraps one arm around your waist, the other on the side of your face.

“We should, uh,” you hum, pulling back. Neither of you had pressed a button to go anywhere, standing in the closed, unmoving elevator. But it felt like you had figured out a pause button. “Fuck, Brock,” you exclaim a second later, taking a step back from him. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what this means.”

Brock reaches over, grabbing both your hands and gently pulling you back towards him. “Why him?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are you seeing him but just hooking up with me?”

“Because Kyle and I have been going out, on dates,” you explain simply.

“What if I took you out on dates?”

“Brock, it’s not that simple,” you whisper, shaking your head.

“Why not?”

“Because of…Kyle,” you tell him, your voice getting quieter when you say Kyle’s name.

Brock nods slowly, leaning back against the elevator wall. “Because you have stronger feelings for Kyle than you do for me,” Brock mutters.

You take a deep breath, shaking your head. “No,” you whisper.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that you only want to be with me because you don’t want me to be with anyone else,” you tell him, reaching over and pressing the button for the sixth floor.

Brock stares at you in silence, letting your words sink in. He didn’t know what to say because he realized that there was some truth to it. He had been enjoying what you had. No strings attached, no real accountability to another person. But it wasn’t that he hadn’t developed stronger feelings, he had just opted to ignore it.

The elevator doors open and you give him a chance to say something, anything, else. But when he doesn’t you step off the elevator, hurrying to your apartment where you were sure you had a less than simple conversation ahead of you.

After talking for awhile with Kyle he leaves your apartment for the night, both of you deciding you needed time to think. It wasn’t a volatile conversation, both of you well aware of the fact that you hadn’t done anything wrong. There were no strings attached but now you needed to figure out if that’s how you wanted things to stay, both with Kyle and with Brock.

You went to bed early that night, doing your best to think through the whole situation rationally, to not get too upset about it. Going to bed you had hoped a good night of sleep would help, but when you woke up the next morning you hadn’t found anymore clarity than you had going to bed the night before. You go about your morning routine as best you can, getting ready for work while trying to keep your mind off of the events of the night before.

You hated bringing your personal life to work but you had to admit that you were distracted all day. You forgot things you normally wouldn’t, things took much longer than normal. You were a mess. And by the time you left work that day you were exhausted, mentally and physically. Gathering your belongings you leave the office, later than anyone else because you needed to stay late to get everything done. It’s pouring rain and the sky is dark when you walk out of the office, hurrying to your car and heading straight home, wanting nothing but the warmth and comfort of your apartment.

As you pull the door to your apartment open you notice Brock walking in your direction. Rolling your eyes you take a deep breath, avoiding eye contact.

“Y/N,” Brock says, hurrying to your side.

“I’m not in the mood tonight. It’s been a long day, I just want to shower and go to bed.” You keep walking towards the elevator, doing your best to ignore the fact that Brock was following you now.

“We need to talk,” Brock says, voice serious as he steps in front of your path to the elevator.

“About what?” You deadpan, arms folded over your chest as you stare up at him.

“Us.”

Shaking your head you step away from him. “There is no us, Brock. There never was an us. So there’s nothing to talk about.”

“What if I want that to change?” Brock asks, voice gentle, eyes soft.

“I don’t…I can’t,” you begin, hesitating as you reach around Brock to press the button for the elevator. “I can’t do this tonight.” You step around Brock and into the elevator as the doors open, leaning against the back wall and reaching for the 6 button.

Suddenly Brock sticks his arm in front of the closing doors. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“I, uh, I don’t know, nothing I-.”

“Seven o’clock, I’m picking you up and we’re going for a date,” Brock tells you before letting the elevator doors shut, leaving you alone.

Your mind races for a few minutes and just as you contemplate going back to the lobby, finding Brock in the parking lot and telling him to forget it, the elevator doors open on the sixth floor and you find yourself walking to your apartment like a robot with a set location.

You had been hoping the next day at work would go a little smoother, that your distractions would be gone. But now you were fighting through the day with another mind full of distractions.

“So what’s going on with you?”

Glancing up from your computer you look at Caroline, your work best friend, standing over your desk. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you haven’t taken a single break in the last two days. You haven’t sent me any snarky texts about the boss. You were here late yesterday catching up on work, which you never have to do because you’re always ahead. So, what’s going on?”

Sighing you lean back in your chair, staring up at her. “You know 625?” You had told Caroline about Brock, well, the basics of it. But he always went by the nickname 625.

“Yeah, of course,” she laughs, sitting on the edge of your desk, ready for all the gossip.

“And Kyle?”

“The one with the name.”

“So I was out with Kyle a couple nights ago and we ran into Brock-.”

“Brock, that’s 625’s name?” Caroline exclaims.

“Yeah, it’s Brock,” you laugh, swaying side to side in your chair. “So we ran into him and Brock got all pissed and jealous, acting like we were dating and I was cheating on him. But we haven’t even been on a single date.”

“But he clearly has feelings for you.”

Rolling your eyes you press your elbow to the desk, your head in your hand. “I don’t know, I thought maybe I just bruised his ego a bit. That he was just jealous because he wasn’t the only one I was sleeping with. But then…last night, he uh, he asked me on a date. A real date. Tonight, at seven.”

“Oh my god,” Caroline says, the shock in her voice not hidden. “So 625, uh, Brock, sorry…really does have feelings. What about Kyle?”

“I don’t know,” you whine. “I haven’t even really talked to him since that night. And part of me, I don’t know, maybe I don’t want to? Like now that I have Brock’s attention I don’t need Kyle as a distraction anymore. Fuck, I’m such a bitch.”

Caroline lets out a quiet laugh. “I mean, it’s kinda a bitchy thing to say but you were never trying to be a bitch so I don’t think it counts. I think you just need to follow your heart on this one.”

“My heart is dumb, Caroline.”

“Your heart will figure it out eventually.” Caroline stands up, giving you a reassuring smile before heading towards her own desk. “Oh, and can you finally answer my email about the meeting tomorrow afternoon?” She calls.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ll do that now,” you call back, feeling guilty about letting your work suffer.

Later that night you were standing at your kitchen counter, staring at the time on the oven. 7:02. You check your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that hour, trying to keep yourself from feeling nervous. It was just Brock. You had done things with Brock that you had never done with anyone before. He had seen every part of you, had touched every inch of your body. Yet the idea of going on a date with him was sending waves of anxiety through your body. A knock at the door makes you flinch, as if you weren’t expecting it. Taking a deep breath you walk over to the door, pulling it open and looking up at the tall figure in front of you.

“Hey,” you say quietly.

“Hey,” Brock replies with a soft smile. “You look beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks redden in an unfamiliar way and you glance down at the ground. “Thanks.”

“These are for you,” Brock says, handing you a bouquet of flowers.

Reaching over you take them from him, looking at the flowers in awe. “I, uh-.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Brock says, stepping into your apartment. “You don’t, um, have to make it a big deal.”

“I’m not,” you say quickly, despite the fact that you were trying really hard to contain the smile on your face. Bringing them into your kitchen you look through your cupboards for a vase.

“Do you want me to get it?” Brock asks, watching you reach for a vase on the top shelf.

“Sure,” you say, not having a chance to step away before Brock is standing behind you, reaching up over you to grab the vase. When he sets it down you slowly turn around, your bodies pressed against each other. Your eyes meet his only for a second before you lean up, pressing your lips against his.

Brock kisses you back, his hands tugging on your waist, pulling you even closer. Your arms slide up over his neck and he lifts you up onto the counter, your legs wrapping around his torso. Pulling your hands back you bring them to his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons.

“Wait, stop,” Brock says, pulling back, his hands wrapping around yours and pulling them away from his shirt. “This isn’t what this is about.”

“What?” You whisper, breathless and flushed, heart racing.

“Tonight. I’m not here to have sex with you. I’m taking you out, on a date. A nice date…which we’re going to be late for.”

“Brock,” you whine, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his gently. “That ship has sailed.”

Brock chuckles, his hands on your waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter. “I know, I’m sorry. I should have taken you out a long time ago,” he tells you, lifting you off the counter and setting you down gently.

Rolling you eyes you shake your head, turning your back to him to fill the vase with water. “I was just your fuck buddy, Brock. You and I both know that. I don’t know what changed, if anything changed at all. Maybe you just want me to think we’re more than that, so you can have me all to yourself, I don’t know. But don’t pretend you’ve had stronger feelings this whole time.”

Brock wraps his arms around you, his chest pressed to your back. “I’ll be honest, I do want you all to myself. The idea of you being with anyone else makes me mad. But it’s more than jealousy, Y/N. I don’t want you to be with anyone else but I don’t want to be with anyone else either. I know that’s crazy to say on a first date-.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea of this being a real first date, after months and months of hooking up. “Sorry,” you whisper, for cutting Brock off with your laughter.

“I’m trying to be nice here and you’re laughing at me,” Brock chuckles, turning you around to get you to face him. “I like you…I have feelings for you. I didn’t even realize how strong they were till I saw you with Kyle. I don’t know, maybe I didn’t have to think about it until then. I just thought, things were good the way they were, we didn’t need to have that conversation…this conversation.”

You’re quiet for a moment after he finishes talking, processing what it meant, what you were supposed to say. “I don’t want you to be with anyone else either.”

“Good,” Brock whispers, leaning down and kissing you quickly. “Now come on, I’ve got a date to take you on.”

Brock takes your hand, guides you through your own apartment to the hallway, watches you lock the door behind the two of you. He doesn’t let go of your hand till you’re at his car, where he opens your door for you, closes it once you’re settled in the passenger’s seat. The drive to restaurant feels strangely comfortable, Brock letting you pick the music, the conversation flowing easily.

“This place is so nice,” you say to Brock after the two of you put in your drink orders. Wine, of course.

Brock shrugs, arms resting on the table as he leans closer, towards you. “I hoped you would like it.”

“I do,” you tell him. “But I would have liked any place you took me. It’s not about where we went, Brock, it’s about you actually taking me somewhere, a real date.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind for next time, and the time after that, and-.”

“Shut up,” you giggle, rolling your eyes. “What does this mean?” You ask with a newfound sense of seriousness.

“What?”

“Us. We’ve been casual for months, but now…now you don’t want me to be with anyone else and I don’t want you to be with anyone else. And we’re going on dates. And you bought be flowers. And…”

“And I guess that means there is an us now, hey?” Brock says, reaching across the table and taking your hand.

Your lips curl into a soft smile, nodding slowly. “I guess that means there is an us,” you agree.

#brock boeser #brock boeser fic #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser fanfic #brock boeser one shot #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey blurb #hockey fanfic

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Yūgen | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Yugen (n.) a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe that triggers a deep, emotional response.

Requested by anon! In which Sunwoo, the ace of the volleyball team, is curious about what you’re drawing all the time. Until one day, he stumbles upon a drawing of himself made from yours truly.

Genre: fluff, volleyball player! Sunwoo and art student reader, shy love, softness, and inspired by haikyuu because I have been obssessed with the anime lately TT__TT A/N: It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve posted here! Slowly but surely, I’m going through my inbox and replying to your requests. Thank you for your patience, stay safe loves, ily all xx

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Sunwoo wasn't artistically inclined.

But that never stopped him from admiring those that were. He was always so curious as to how just a flick of fingers managed to create a shadow, or how just one glance at a subject made it through onto paper without so much as an effort to remember the details. It was like it was automatically recorded into one's brain, hands already registered to mimic the curves and the folds and the shadows that turned into nothing short of a miraculous piece. So when he caught sight of someone drawing, it always piqued his interest. He stumbled upon you one late afternoon after his volleyball practice, with sweat dotting his forehead and his training bag slung casually over his shoulder. He was about to direct his way to the parking lot upon exiting the gymnasium, only to spot a lone figure huddled upon the bleachers and curled into a ball that caused Sunwoo to frown. Slowly sidling up to the stranger in question and peeking over the railing to catch a glimpse of your face, his eyes are instantly driven to the sketchpad in your hands.

You didn't notice him though, so absorbed in your own world with earphones blocking out reality that a tsunami could've gone unnoticed. So Sunwoo took advantage to climb over onto the opposite bleacher and, after ensuring that your back wouldn't turn to greet him, leaned over the separation to catch sight of a lone figure cartwheeling freely over the page. Woah. You were talented alright. There was nothing else to describe the fluidity of movement you caught with your pencil. It made Sunwoo's breath catch in his throat. He had the sudden urge to know exactly what kind of face hid behind the visual mastery manifesting before his very eyes. After all, there must be other things for them to see rather than the boring literal reality that most people settled for. What kind of imageries were they creating in their heads? What beautiful stories were they crafting? Worlds they got lost in? You moved then, causing Sunwoo to jolt back and scurry away with his heart beating out of his chest, deciding that it was enough spying for the day. After that day, he made sure to seek you out every time after practice although he noticed you never strayed too long in the same place, always moving about like a shadow lingering in the corner, invisible yet omniscient. Sometimes you would find a quiet spot in a patch of sunlight by the tennis courts. Sometimes you'd be found on the bleachers, alert eyes observing every pass, every move, every twist of a body like camera taking everything in. Sunwoo never approached you. Not that he didn't want to, but he found it awkward to just come up to you and present himself as the guy who'd been stalking your drawings. So he admired you from afar instead, relished in the passion of your dark coffee coloured eyes and in the attentive focus dipping your eyebrows in a soft frown, lips paeted slightly in concentration. "Do you know her?" He'd asked one of his friends from the volleyball team once, during their lunch break as he saw you line up at the cafeteria. Changmin took a peek at your face before he shook his head, "she might be in one of my electives." "Which one?" "I think it's art." Sunwoo forced his face to remain in a mask of calmness as he grabbed a steak sandwich, no fries, "do you know her name?" "Nah. I don't think she's ever spoken in class," Changmin's eyebrows quirk up then, "why'd you ask?" "No reason." Changmin's pointed look defined anything but that. Although he did have the decency to drop the subject as soon as the rest of the volleyball team joined the table. Sunwoo got his answer a few days later when he practically toppled over you and your drawing crayons. It was his mistake. He'd been leaning too far out from the top of the basketball bleachers, struggling to get even the smidgest glimpse of what amazing piece of art hiding under your jacket sleeve, only for his foot to slip. Down he went with a curse, crashing straight into your body and quickly scrabbling to wrap his arms around your head, a pathetic attempt to cushion your fall as you fell into a heap in front of the bleachers. "You--you okay?" He huffed out, breathless and heart beating like a time bomb. Pulling his arms away slowly, gently, he finally met your gaze straight on and --oh my, your eyes were not coffee coloured at all. But more of a honey-brown, wide open and framed by soft lashes. Currently dilated in panic. "I'm fine! What--What about you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry--" "No it was my fault," he made a grab for your sketchbook and scattered pens only for his orbs to register the face messily etched onto the paper. His breath caught. For a minute, he could do nothing but stare at the replica of his face made in charcoal. Those were his eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The scowl he wore during his soccer matches. That was him. The resemblance was akin to that of perfection. That was before your hands snatched away the sketchbook before you quickly slammed it closed, cheeks blazing red, "that's-- I swear I"m not a creep, I-- I just do that for practice--" "It's amazing." Your head-- which had been bowed this entire time for fear that anger would be his response -- shot up in surprise, "what?" "It's amazing," Sunwoo repeated. He wouldn't mind repeating it forever, he realized, if that meant he got to see that aforable blush of yours. He reached out with his hand, "can I look at it again?" So you allowed him after some slight hesitation, and if he noticed, he didn't comment. Fingers brushing against yours slightly, he handled the sketchbook with utmost care as he flipped through the pages with child-like awe. He'd seen your drawings, sure, but mere glimpses here and there, a sneak peek, always accompanied with the fear of being found. But now, he could take his time and actually relish in the soft tracings of your crayon, admire the gentle shadings that made up the tip of his nose. You had managed to capture that frown -- the one he used whenever he concentrated -- to perfection and for a minute he swore he'd fallen in love with himself. "You're really good," he murmured, though that definitely banalized the array of praises popping through his head, "you should keep doing them. I mean it." "So, you're not--" you paused, "mad?" "Well I think you'd have more reason to be mad if you knew I was stalking you from before." "What?" Oh Sunwoo, you idiot. Your eyes had tripled their size and you were looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. He lifted his hands as defence, "that sounded so much better in my head. I swear I'm not that creepy, or a stalker, I just--well you're always drawing and I got curious but I can't really come over and tell you to show me so I had to hide and peek and--" You burst out laughing in his face and despite the fact that he was the cause, he couldn't help joining in with a small chuckle, a grin spreading across his features at how alive you looked at this very moment. "You can ask me next time," your grin settled into a soft smile, "I don't bite." "Your words, not mine," he said, tone lighter and teasing. He helped you gather your belongings and as the pair of you started towards the school gates, he asked for your name. "Y/N," you answered, "and you?" "Sunwoo," he noticed the sky was darkening into purple, a sign that twilight was approaching. Usually, he'd be in a hurry to catch the last bus of the evening to avoid the pain of traffic after six. But it was like his body was slowing down on its own to join your pace, as if he was automatically tuning in to the rhythm of your steps. He found he didn't mind. "So why athletes? Any special reason why you like drawing them?" He asked as you reached the gates. "I just like watching the way they move. It's ...graceful," a hand went to rub the back of your neck, "and they come in handy for figure practice." "I mean, we're not that graceful when you're on the pitch ready to get blown away," he chuckled, "but thanks. At least we know we don't play like animals." "Oh god no. The volleyball team's pretty good. The rugby team on the other hand..." you sigh before you shake your head, "that team is nearly impossible to draw." His shoulders shook as he laughed, "well I don't think they aim for graceful. They look like a pack of wild dogs. Even I don't understand how they play." You had reached the said bus stop by then before you spotted your mother's car along the sidewalk, "oh, my mom's here," you turn to him, "where do you live? Maybe we can drop you--" Meeting your mom? On the first day of meeting you? Sunwoo's hands flew up, shaking them wildly in response, "oh no no, that's not necessary. I'll see you tomorrow!" Thank god for the bus that pulled up at the right time so that he didn't have to linger longer than he needed to. But he didn't miss the small wave of your hand as you watched him go, the smile on your face warming his heart even when it was one of the coldest winter days of the year. From that day onwards, Sunwoo made it a must to make his presence known whenever you were deep in your sketches, always observing, sometimes silently keeping you company and sometimes getting so wrapped up in conversation that your pens would lay forgotten by your bag as you bantered back and forth about subjects that would've made people throw you looks of concern. It became routine to have Sunwoo's head pop up from behind the bleachers or to see him walk up the path to your special hiding spot, right where your gaze would meet the tennis court. You sketched him more and more, folding your drawings into your bag so that he wouldn't see although the urge to catch his face on paper was a growing addiction you couldn't ignore. Even your friends had noticed his lingering presence, proceeding to prod you with questions reflecting their curiosity. "He's from the vòlleyball team isn't he?" Yeji asked one time during lunch, upon noticing the way the said young man's stare lingered over the back of your head before turning away just as quickly, "do you know him?" "We've spoken once or twice." "How do you know him?" Your other friend, Saeron, nudged you with a wriggle of her brows. You brushed her teasing away, "we bumped into each other and then he saw my drawings." "Oh right, you do sketch athletes," Yeji leaned forward, mouth full of bread, "did you sketch him?" "I did, actually." "Oh awkward," Saeron giggled, "he's handsome though, can't deny that. You gotta introduce us sometime." You mumbled out an agreement even though you sat with them just for the sake of having people around. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate them. You did. But they seemed to speak a language you couldn't quite grasp. You would rather sit in your own silence, enjoy your own company if that made sense. Maybe that was why it was so surprising, that you allowed Sunwoo to linger as long as he wanted to. There was something authentic about the way he reacted to your words, an unguarded expression that made you comfortable enough to speak up without fear of judgment. Spending time with Sunwoo was listening to water trickle down the river. Smooth and free. Peaceful. But Sunwoo seldom knew of your high regards, was not aware of the tiny sketch of his figure in mid-spike that was hidden in the pocket of your school skirt so that you could take a peek whenever you felt out of place or nervous. It calmed you down to admire his composure, even if his expression was a mere mimic that could not replace reality. "Do you have any material in particular that you like to use?" Sunwoo asked one cloudy afternoon, breaking the silence while huddling a little closer to peek at your newest sketch of Lee Juyeon; a basketball star player known for his quick reflexes and adept playing style. Not only was his skill on par with that of a Nationals team, but his looks had garnered him quite a fanbase from the get-go. Sunwoo would've liked to say that he wasn't jealous of the way your thumb gently applied shade to Juyeon's lower lip. But the spike in the middle of his chest proved him otherwise. "I like charcoal the most, it's the easiest to work with," pausing to admire your work, your eyes glanced over at him, "do you draw?" He scoffed, "like a five year old." "Wanna try?" "No way. I'll ruin it. I'm okay with admiring it from afar." You hummed an unknown tune as you pulled back your sketchbook, "how is practice?" "Alright. Could be better. We won a practice match last week so we're kind of taking it easy." "That's good though isn't it?" Your gaze met his. His eyes were various gradients of warm maroon and you wished-- at this very moment -- to paint his features into memory. That was when you realized how close you were. You shuffled slightly back and didn't notice the frown Sunwoo threw you in response, "it is. And I'm happy we get to rest. The team deserves it." "You're pursuing it in College?" Your eyes tried not to linger too much over his lips, "volleyball, I mean." "Depends," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "if we make it to the Nationals." "You will." "Someone's confident," he chuckled. "Well I'm no pro but even I can tell you're talented, Sunwoo," you peeked at him from behind your fringe, glad that you could blame the cold for your red cheeks when just the intensity and closeness of his entity made you want to squirm, "so if there's anyone who can do it, it's you." It was impossible to keep eye contact after such a confession. You lowered your gaze, glad for your sketchbook that acted as a distraction. It was at that very moment that the paper tucked so neatly in your pocket slipped out, causing Sunwoo to quickly make a grab for it. You made a noise of protest before trying to snatch it back, but the boy only chuckled before unfolding the creased page so that there he was, depicted in all his glory. "Is that--" his voice was hoarse and you took this as your chance to steal it from his grasp, reddened cheeks burning and fingers shaking as you folded it back to its tiny square shape, "is that me?" "Y--yes." "You--you keep that with you?" "I--I do," you lifted your chin up defiantly, though you felt your limbs trembling. His eyes, they pierced your own, piecing together a coherence that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. When he spoke next, his words were a mere murmur. "Why?" "I--I don't know," eyes darting towards the ground, you mumbled, "I just like watching you...play." A pause. Then, Sunwoo shifted a little bit closer. "You like watching me play? Or do you like," he cocked his head, "watching me?" If you were red before then you were probably the colour of a fire engine truck by now. Averting your eyes and turning your head away were instinctive responses due to the blood rushing through your face. "Stop flirting with me," came your mumble. Laughing softly in response, he scooted himself a little closer, so close that his shoulder brushed your back. He leaned over, head tilted to catch your expression. "Cute," his lips broke out in a crooked grin and you swore you felt your heart explode. Flustered, you shoved him away out of instinct but he wasn't having any of that. His hand grabbed your wrists and with a yelp, you were dragged even closer to his chest. "You like looking at me that much huh?" His tone was teasing while his eyes glimmered with playful mischief, "why is that,Y/N?" "You ask as if you don't know," you mumbled out through jumbled words and you were glad he actually understood you. But instead of laughing some more, his features softened into a smile instead as he proceeded to gaze down at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was in your normal behaviour to admire people. Not the other way around. And at this very moment, you felt way out of your comfort zone. "I don't know." Your orbs flew up to his in surprise and what you found in those coffee-coloured pupils made your breath stutter, heat coiling through your abdomen. "It...it calms me down," your whisper was barely louder than a breath but by the way Sunwoo's smile widens to reach his eyes, you could tell he heard you just fine. "I like watching you too," he replied. A strand of your hair caught in the wind and he raised his hand to curl it around the back of your ear, his touch ghosting with sparks wherever flesh bumped into flesh. You felt warm. He didn't pull away. Didn't bother hiding the slight dust of pink in his cheeks either, as he slowly allowed his palm to cradle the side of your face. Gently. As if he feared you might run away, recoil back. But you didn't. Even with your breaths going staccato, even if your heart felt like a wild animal. You calmed yourself down with the knowledge that he seemed just as nervous as you were and suddenly, out of a stroke of boldness, your hand went up to hold on to his, pressing it close to your cheek. His breath hitched. You shivered. The wind blew against your figures, a gentle reminder that the day was coming to an end. You weren't exactly sure what changed that day. There were no verbal agreements, nothing that suggested your relationship had changed. Yet, the subtle touches of his hand against your back, your shoulders, moving your hair from one shoulder to another, complemented by his gentle doe-eyed stare that made your toes curl, these changes were small, but significant. And you couldn't find it in your heart to say that you disliked it. What are we? The words lingered at the tip of your tongue, as bitter as the aftertaste of coffee as you stole small glances in his direction. You were sitting comfortably under a tree that overlooked the tennis court where Sunwoo had decided to join you. He'd fallen asleep halfway through your beginning sketch and was now leaning against the tree trunk, face relaxed and body leaned towards yours, close enough that you could admire his face. Countless hours you had spent tracing Sunwoo's features on paper. Countless times you had imagined tracing his lips with your thumb, wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. Maybe it was just curiosity or maybe you had let him walk into your heart so easily that you hadn't realized it yourself. But if there was one thing you could swear your heart upon it would be that you could no longer imagine every day without Sunwoo's presence at your side. As if on instinct, your fingers took a life of their own as they reached up to push a few strands away from his face. They gently carved a path down his cheek, landing at the corner of his jaw. Dangerously close to his open mouth. There was no denying it. Sunwoo was beautiful. Handsome. Had those features on par to that of a model's. You were so focused on edging your way to touch his lower lip that you didn't realize you had been staring, until you glanced up to see his brown orbs fixated on yours. You froze. Shit. "Like what you see?" He murmured. Then, before you could scramble back and probably run with your tail between your legs, his own hand grasped your own and he pushed himself off the trunk before his head angled towards yours, finding your lips. Soft. Sunwoo's lips were soft. You panicked. Not used to the closeness. The fire that sparked between your lids. But his other hand went to clasp your jaw, holding you close as he kissed your next protest away and unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek. Shivering in his touch, there was no running away from the way his mouth molded against yours so snugly, and you didn’t want to. You found yourself addicted to the sweet pressure of his upper lip meeting your lower ones and soon enough -- without realizing -- you melted into his touch.

Sunwoo made a noise that sounded like a soft grunt, his other hand lacing around your waist to pull you closer so that you tumbled halfway into his lap. With embarrassment suddenly flooding through you, you let out a squeak that he answered with a chuckle of his own before distracting you once more with a series of kisses that left you gasping.

Your hands, initially balled into fists in your lap, went to rest against his chest and you didn’t realize that you were gripping onto his school shirt until you parted for air. Only were you aware of your compromising position, of the hard ridges of the young man’s thighs, of the firmness of his chest against your palms, of the way he seemed to be so much bigger than you even though he was a lean athlete, meant to be light and as speedy as the wind.

Breaths coming out ragged, you tried to slow the beating of your heart. Though it seemed to be quite the challenge, given how lovingly, how intense, Sunwoo seemed to be in making love to your neck, nibbling on your pulse point and causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips.

A whistle blew in the distance.

The soccer team. They’d be crawling up the hill any minute now.

“Sunwoo,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with mixed feelings of desire and embarrassment. You feebly tried pushing against his chest, to no avail. He merely groaned, head tilting upwards to catch your mouth into another kiss.

“Sunwoo,” you groaned against his lips. But he held on for dear life, one hand clasping the back of your neck, tangled into your locks. The other around your waist, pressing you as close as he could possibly get you to be.

“Just one more,” he mumbled in-between kisses, hooded eyes fluttering closed and head slanting to kiss you a little deeper, a little harder.

Your body was on fire. You weren’t used to this intimacy, nor all of the affection he was raining down upon you.

But it felt good. It felt amazing. Eye-opening.

He finally relented after what seemed like an eternity and you quickly made a move to scramble out of his lap. Though he wasn’t having any of that, grip made of iron as he held on. You looked up to snap at him to let go before everyone saw but was faced with his pout instead, which was enough to bring down your defences.

“Please,” his pout deepened and your heart practically vaulted through your chest. Cute. Cute. Cute. Stop. Burying his face into your neck, he whispered, “I just wanna hold you.”

So he did. And thank god the team had decided to take a different route so that you would avoid their imploring, questioning gazes. Though Sunwoo admitted that he’d already known they would go up from the other side of the gymnasium, considering they did that every other week to train their stamina in the process.

That earned him a light smack on the side of his head, making him whine, “What did I do to deserve this Y/N?”

“You knew!” You wanted to throw him a glare, but it was impossible when you were busy fighting the grin spreading across your face.

He grinned back at you, that crooked smile that always resulted in a burst of butterflies roaring through your abdomen. Just like now.

“So, since you have a drawing of me that you keep staring at every day--” his words died into laughter when you tried smacking his arm, proceeding to cage your wrist with his hand before kissing your knuckles. You squirmed as he continued, “does that mean I can get a picture of you?”

You let out a noise of protest, “that depends,” you mumbled, unconsciously finding refuge in his neck.

Chuckling, Sunwoo grasped your chin lightly to pull you back so that his brown orbs gazed right into yours with a gentleness that had you weak at the knees, “on what?”

“On what I get in return.”

“What if I say I’ll take you on a date?” he said wickedly.

You couldn’t help your smile.

“I guess that could work.”

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yourmcu · 4 years ago

Text

Natalie

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Stark!reader (platonic), Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

You met Natasha for the first time while she was undercover as Natalie. You’re not overly fond of how your first meeting went.

Word count: 1,390

Warnings: none (that means fluff)

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

“How was the field trip, Miss Stark?”

"Good actually, just feeling a bit under the weather,” you sniffle while the front door slides close behind you. “It was probably the heavy air conditioning on the bus.”

You drop your duffel bag beside the couch while Jarvis reassures you that somebody will get you a hot meal to make you feel better. You had gotten back in the early hours of the morning so Pepper and even Tony would still be asleep, and you're already sure Happy is going to be upset when he finds out you took the bus home instead of calling him.

You go to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and sit down by the kitchen island. It’s almost six, anyone would wake up soon. So you just sit there trying to deal with your headache.

Natasha is always up early ever since she got the position as an assistant for Stark’s company. As much as possible she keeps the snooping around to a minimal, or makes sure to finish the tasks Pepper gave her first before looking out for Tony to see what he was up to.

She had seen a framed photo of you and Tony in the living room. She immediately wondered who you were, seeing as the public doesn’t fully know Tony Stark had a child, and if Fury knew about you. She casually brought it up when both her and Pepper were working though: “Tony’s daughter. Y/N doesn’t like to be in the spotlight that much.”

When Jarvis notifies her that “Miss Stark has arrived and could use some soup.”, she puts her paperwork aside and strides out of the room. Natasha doesn’t trust this whole daughter thing. Tony Stark is a busy - and a reckless man, he doesn’t have time for one, at least, that’s what she thinks. Maybe she’s a child prodigy he hired or something, or possibly an agent.

You raise your head a bit when you hear the clopping of heals, feeling very much relieved that Pepper’s awake - except it isn’t Pepper.

Her movements are swift as she enters the room. She clutches her clipboard at her side as she got a good look at you. Huh. I thought she’d be much younger.

“Uh, hello,” you say awkwardly, eyes flicking from her, to your side, and at the door. Oh god, dad’s having one night stands again. You thought for sure he'll end up with Pepper. This woman looks like a reporter, except she managed to dress herself unlike-

“Do you have a soup preference?”

“What?” You blink. You don’t like it when your father sleeps with women who wander around the house in the morning. When they see you they want to take photos, sometimes an interview when you were still in your pajamas. But this one is asking you what kind of soup you like. Maybe she’s hungover? “The... uh, the exit’s down the hall on the left, I can ring a driver if you need a ride, if you want,”

You really wish Tony or Pepper would walk in now.

“What gave you the impression that I want to leave?”

Something about the way she said that made an alarm go off inside you. You want nothing more than to run. “Okay, I’m-” you get up, taking your water bottle with you. You try to avoid her gaze because it follows you until you're at the door. “I’m just gonna... just gonna go.” And you sprint away.

You head to Tony’s lab and enter your code when you see him working on an old red car. “Dad,” you breathe out and his eyes light up when he sees you.

“Hey bud, when did you get home?” His breath reeks of alcohol and it isn’t surprising that he's getting no sleep again.

“The reporter you mingled with is still here and she doesn’t want to leave.”

“Reporter?”

“Yes, reporter, or I don’t know... whatever her occupation is,” you raise your voice a bit. “You know I can’t do anything about when you - when you take someone home-”

Tony stops his fidgeting. “That’s none of your business.”

“Okay fine, sorry, but-”

“Look, I’m sure you’ve had a rough trip back,” he gets up and wipes his hands. “But there’s not a single reporter, or whatever you’re talking about, here. Let’s go, I’m sure Natalie has breakfast ready.”

Natalie?

You open your mouth to object but Tony already has an arm around you and leads you out of his workplace. You’re only gone for a few weeks, curse them for not bothering to shoot you a text or something, just so that you're informed with everything that’s been going on-

“Mr. Stark?” That same, gentle but almost kind of robotic voice speaks. Well, that’s how you’d describe the red-headed stranger. You scoot closer to Tony when she came to view. “Miss Potts has specifically ordered me to tell you not to disturb her today. She’s very busy. Can I get both of you anything?”

You feel your lips part slowly, gaping at the two adults.

“I’m gonna go shower, you can assist Y/N here to whatever she needs,” Tony replies absentmindedly and walks away.

The man forgot you had no idea who the woman is and what she's doing here. “Who... who are you?” You turn to face her after you watchs your dad walk away and is now out of view.

“Natalie Rushman,” she replies matter-of-factly.

“But who - wait, why... what?”

Natasha could tell you really are Tony’s daughter and now found your confusion amusing. She decides to fill you in on everything that happened while you were away.

“Pepper’s CEO?! Hang on, I have to go see her-” But she gently places a hand on your shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to be disturbed today.”

“...right.”

After that interaction the both of you became close. You warmed up to her, and despite Natasha still being undercover she became softer around you, thinking you wouldn’t be able to put the pieces together and figure out what she was really doing here.

You’d ask her for advice, help for homework sometimes, talk about random shit, it was great.

Every time you both had the chance to talk you’d ask her random questions, they’d always leave you speculating.

“Dad said you modeled in Tokyo,” you point out one day while she’s filing paperwork and you had nothing better to do. “Why didn’t you pursue it? You know, modeling?”

She could’ve pursued being a boxer or something too, Happy also told you about the time she flipped him over in the boxing ring. You couldn’t imagine why she’d choose being an assistant over the other cool ones.

Natasha just glances at you for a moment and shrugs, returning to the task at hand. “It wasn’t my thing.”

But what made you upset? The day she left. You just built this bond with her, a friendship, and you didn’t see any reason why she had to leave. No one had any complaints with her, so why?

You ask Tony after him and Rhodey were honored in Washington. “Did you fire Ms. Rushman?”

“Sorry?” Tony removes his sunglasses hastily.

“I was just wondering why Natalie doesn’t work for you anymore.”

“Natasha.” He corrects.

Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him, “wh-”

“I didn’t fire her, kid,” he sighs. “But something tells me we’re gonna see her again soon.”

And you did, two years later.

-----

bonus:

“C’mon, Nat, stop,” you drag out after you leapt onto her and tried to cover her mouth. “It’s not funny!”

“And then - and then Y/N gave me this look when I walked in - oh god, she looked so creeped out, then-”

The room fills with laughter from the other avengers but the loudest ones were coming from Sam and Clint. She told them the story a few times and it still never gets old.

“I still can’t believe you thought she was one of Tony’s flings,” Sam wipes a tear from his eye. “God, that’s gold!”

When she finishes, Natasha pulls you closer and tilts her head when she sees the pout on your face. “Aww, are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“I know you are,” oh no. She put on the voice she uses whenever she’s about to do something you didn’t like. Without warning, her hands go to your sides, tickling you mercilessly.

“NAT!”

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levis-hazelnut · 4 years ago

Text

Levi x Reader Tea Parties

Summary: You’re a new addition to the Scout Regiment, and you bring along with your six-year-old daughter. An unexpected bond forms between you and the Corporal when he seems to be attached to your daughter and spends quite a bit of time with her.

(D/N) = daughter’s name

"Everyone, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be joining us, the Scout Regiment, today and I expect all of you to make her comfortable here," Commander Erwin announced as you slightly stood in front of him, his hands on your shoulders. "I wouldn't mind giving her a little tour," a brown-haired boy smirked to his friend. "Shut up, Jean. Can't you see she has someone already?" another boy with turquoise eyes whispered, gesturing to the little girl beside you, gripping your hand.

Little did they know, you could hear their conversation, despite them trying to be secretive. You watched them as they spoke, or more like argued, as the tall, blonde man next to you was saying things that were at the back of your mind. "Cadet (Y/N)?" "... Oh, sorry. Yes?" You found it a little unusual to be addressed like that. "If there's anything you need, just come to me. Don't be shy." "Okay. Thank you, Sir." "And..." His crystal eyes scanned the crowd before he called out two names, "Armin, Mikasa!" Said people approached both of you, saluting to him, which he dismissed with the wave of his hand. "I need both of you to help (L/N) settle in and show her around. Is that okay?" "Yes, Sir." "Thank you. I'll be off then." You flashed a smile at them, radiating your friendly nature. They smiled in return and greeted you before you noticed their gaze fall onto the (H/C)-haired female next to you. "This is my daughter. (D/N)." "How old is she?" Mikasa asked. "She'll be six in a couple of months," you replied prior to crouching down. "Say hi to Mikasa and Armin, sweetie." The young girl threw herself at you in order to hide from the new people, causing you to chuckle softly. "She's shy. But in about a week she'll be fine with everyone." "She's really cute. And she looks a lot like you," Armin commented. "Aw, thank you,” you grinned in response as you could literally see a single question swimming in his orbs. A question which has been asked a couple of times prior. "I'm twenty-six, by the way. So I'm not young compared to you lot." "Wow. I would have guessed you were about eighteen." You giggled. "That's very flattering. Anyway, should we get going?" "Oh, yeah." All three of you started to walk around the castle and they introduced you to any people you met along the way and showed you the rooms you went past. As you wandered around, you made conversation with them, finding out that they were sweet people. And you told them a bit about yourself, but not too much since they were still new people to you. "(Y/N), right?" The brown-haired boy from earlier took your hand and pressed his lips against it. "Yes..." "Jean, stop it." Mikasa slapped his hand away. "I don't see a ring." "Jean!" "I-it's fine. He's right, I'm not married;;." "I can give you another tour later if you want." You arched an eyebrow and shook your head in disbelief. This teenager is trying to hook up with someone who is twenty-six and has a child? "I didn't come here to be flirted with by some guy I just met." "Well, in a few months, my offer will still be there," he smirked before walking away. How cocky can that idiot get? Did he not get the message that you don't want that kind of interaction with him? "Forget about him. He's a jerk." "I see that--" "Oh my god!! You're (Y/N)?! I'm Hanji! It's nice to meet you!!" A brunette came sprinting towards you, jumping onto you as a male strolled behind her with a crease settled in between his eyebrows. "AWWW!!! Is that your daughter?! She's adorable, I could just eat her!!!" "Sh*tty Glasses, you going to f*cking kill her before a titan does." "Hanji, could you get off of her?" Armin asked. "Excuse me, Hanji? I'm kind of getting squished between you and the floor." "Oh, sorry!" She sprung off of you before laughing maniacally at the sight in front of her, which was the raven and your daughter. "What the f*ck are you doing, you sh*tty brat?" the raven snapped at your daughter, who tugged at his trousers and bit the fabric. "Are you trying to strip me?" He tried kicking her away. That guy is stupid to think that he could talk to (D/N) like that and swear in front of her and kick her. No one would want to mess with your daughter because they would suffer from a mother's wrath. Everyone should know that you never want to anger a mother through their child. That's when their ugly side comes out and no one wants that. "Hanji," you said through gritted teeth as she looked at you. "Who is he?" "That's Levi!" "LEVI!! HOW DARE YOU TALK TO MY DAUGHTER LIKE THAT?! I swear, I'll beat the crap out of you if you don't stop!!" He scoffed. "As if I'm scared of a newbie like you." "Corporal, I think you should take a look at her." Oh, damn. You look like you could destroy humanity with that glare directed on that one male. Titans will run away from you if they saw you right now. And from the way your nails dug into your palm, you could probably rip through your skin. "Fine, here's your daughter." He gripped the back of her dress and dropped her in front of you before casually leaving the scene. "It's not my fault she wanted to see me naked." "I don't think anyone will want to see you naked with an attitude like that," you spat, causing him to stop and face you. "Tell that to me when those hundreds of women leave me alone." "Hundreds of women who have no taste," you muttered. "Damn, I've never seen anyone talk to Corporal like that," Armin whispered. "How did (Y/N)'s personality switch just like that?" "It's that mother's wrath thing. Just don't do anything to her daughter," Hanji notified them. "Do you have a problem with me?" Levi crossed his arms over his chest. "Just don't be like that with my daughter and I won't have a problem with you." "Okay." "Did Shorty just say 'okay'? He didn't fight back? He listened to someone he just met a couple of minutes ago?" Hanji rambled in shock before wiggling her eyebrows with a goofy grin. "Looks like someone's taken a liking to (Y/N)~" "Shut up, Sh*tty Glasses," he snarled before turning around and walking away. "Why would I like a brat like her? And I barely know anything about her." "Hanji's always like this. Forget about what she says. Whatever she says isn't true most of the time," Mikasa told you. "Okay. Let's just get out of here." "Well, we've basically shown you everything. Oh, we forgot the most important thing - your room." "Mikasa, Armin!" a voice called, causing the three of you to come to a halt. "Have you seen Horse Breath?" "Why?" "He put horse sh*t in my shoes. That b*stard." "I mean, we saw him like five minutes ago. He might be outside." "Thanks," he grinned. "Who's Horse Breath?" you inquired. "Jean." "I see..." When you arrived at your room, they gave you the key and left you to settle in. There was a double bed and a bedside table with a single lantern, sitting atop it. A chair settled in a corner of the room and there was a wardrobe.

You approached a door and reached for the cold knob, opening the door to see a small bathroom. Letting out a satisfied sigh, you closed the door and sat down on the bed where your daughter already lay. You brushed the hair from her face, giving her a tender smile and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Do you like it, sweetie?" She nodded before sitting up. "I like Levi, too." "What? Why?" "He's nice." "How is he nice?" "He wasn't being rude to me. I saw him smile when he tried taking me off his leg." "I didn't notice." "He's nice, mummy. You didn't need to get angry." "I'll need to see just how nice he is," you murmured before a couple of knocks sounded, so you got up to open it and saw Erwin standing there. You invited him, standing to the side and widening the door as he walked in. Before this, you failed to see that Levi was behind him and he stepped inside as well. "How do you like it?" Erwin asked. "It's so much better than where I lived before." "You're lucky. You're one of the few brats who get their own room," Levi stated in a monotonous voice. "I'm grateful for that." The blonde smiled at you, averting his gaze to (D/N). "Hello, (D/N)." "Hi!" "Looks like she already likes you," you beamed, staring at your daughter in admiration before resting your features and turning to the shorter male. "And, Corporal Levi, she seems to like you as well." "Maybe she's one of the hundreds who don't have taste." "... Sorry about that, I didn't mean it. You know, just don't hurt my child in any way." "I know I shouldn't if I want to stay in my current, healthy state." You laughed softly, but he had no sign of amusement on his visage. That is until your daughter held his index finger, looking up at him with gleaming orbs. This time you were able to see the tiniest of smiles sneak its way to his lips. "Levi, will you play with me?" "No. I have work to do, brat." "Don't get annoyed when he calls her brat because he calls nearly everyone that," Erwin told you, knowing about the little commotion since Hanji had informed him. You nodded in response. "Anyway, I have to go. I'll see you later." "Bye, Sir." "Aww, what about after that?" (D/N) pouted. "I have to train my squad." "And after that?" "It'll be dinner and then your bedtime." "How about tomorrow?" "I don't know." "Come on, (D/N). He has to do some work." "But I want to play with him." "Baby, we aren't here for fun. Not everyone will be able to play with you." "Will you play with me, mummy?" "No. She has cleaning duty," Levi answered for you. "Cleaning! Can I help?!" "She likes to clean?" "Yeah. We both love to," you said as you picked her up, noticing that (D/N)'s hand was still wrapped around his forefinger. He saw what you were looking at and snatched his finger away, almost immediately. "Look, Erwin, they're like a family," Hanji whispered excitedly as she looked through the gap in your door. "Hanji, leave them alone." The female sighed heavily, silently closing the door before it suddenly opened again, revealing Levi who frowned at the both of them. "What are you doing?" he asked the brunette and blonde. "We were just passing by." "What are you doing, Shorty?" "I'm talking to an idiot." He left the two and made way to his office. ~/~ Seven months have gone past since you became a Scout and people enjoy you and your daughter's presence. Most scouts are grateful that you would do most of the work since they do a poor job and you end up doing it again. Everyone loves your daughter, especially and surprisingly, Levi who apparently doesn't have time to play with her, but you find them playing different games every day. Most of the time it would be tea parties and you love to see Levi interact with her and see his soft side. Once you changed into your uniform, you left your room to go clean which your daughter volunteered to do with you. You started to clean the corridors, mopping the floors, wiping windows and dusting any surfaces. Sasha and Connie were cleaning as well, or more like messing around. "Hey, you two?" "Yeah?" "You can go. I'll clean since you guys aren't doing anything." "Really?! You're amazing!!" You smiled at them as they ran off like little kids. (D/N) was more mature than them even though they're like triple her age. You dunked the mop in the bucket and wrung it out, so it isn't soaked before dragging it across the floor, doing a better job than the scouts that did it before. You blew a strand of hair away from your face and rolled your sleeves up since they had decided to travel down your arms. "Have some rest, honey," you told the little girl cleaning alongside you. "I'm fine." "I think both of you should rest. You've been cleaning for at least two hours," a voice chimed in. "We're fine, Sir." "What about you? Are you tired, (D/N)?" "A little bit. but it's fine." "Go rest, darling. You've done enough." "But I want to help you, mummy." "(D/N), go,” you ordered, your tone stern but gentle. "Okay." "Sir, would you mind taking her to our room, please?" "Of course." Erwin strolled beside her as you watched them disappear as they went further away. Since you were finally alone, it enabled you to clean quicker.

And when you were finally done, you sighed in relief, glad you were finally done after another half hour of tiring your muscles.

Your content expression soon turned dark when two boys came tumbling your way, shouting profanities at each other. Eren floored Jean, who sprung back up almost immediately and was about to throw a punch to the other's face, but you caught his wrist, preventing him from harming Eren any further. "What are you doing?" "That titan idiot punched me for no reason." "It was an accident. I was training and you got in the way. You just need glasses to see where you're going!" "You need glasses to see what you're punching!!" "Shut up, both of you!" you demanded and they silenced. "If you were outside, how the hell did you end up here?" "Oh, I don't know." Jean shrugged. You rolled your eyes, freeing his wrist from your grip and he rubbed the, now, red skin. "Honestly, you guys are so immature." "He started--" "I don't care. I'm just going to my room and I would like it if I don't hear any fighting." "Sorry, (Y/N)." "You're still young. You haven't matured yet like you were supposed to a few years ago." "You know, you make it sound like you're old, but you're still young. So what if you're twenty-six? That's still young," Eren stated. "Thank you. But I feel old when I see you." "Age doesn't matter. I would love to have you in my bed at any age." "Shut up, Jean." You rolled your eyes once again, leaving the two and making your way to your room, opening the door to find your daughter and Levi on the bed, having yet another tea party. Hearing her giggle caused a tender smile to edge onto your lips as you closed the door and padded to the bed, where they sat, and stood by it. "Hi, mummy!!" She got up from the bed and hugged your legs as you ruffled her hair. "Hey, honey. Did you have fun?" "Yeah! Levi played with me." "Looks like you had time to play with her again." "I still have work to do, but Erwin asked me to stay with her." "You can go do your work now if you want." "I can leave my work for later," he replied reluctantly, not wanting to admit that he would rather stay with (D/N). "I wouldn't think you were good with kids, seeing as how you seem to be harsh with the cadets." "She isn't at that age when she's spoiled and bratty. Or when she's annoying like the other brats here." "Was that a compliment?" Levi ignored you, watching (D/N) climb back onto the bed and she jumped onto his lap, spilling the hot contents in his mug over him. He hissed when the tea seeped through his clothes and tried to keep his patience at the cause of the accident. He stood up as you rushed to pass him a cloth. "Sorry." You gave an apologetic smile. "You can go to the bathroom and change out of your clothes while I get you some from your room. I would give you mine, but I doubt they will fit." "Just take your a*s and get me clothes," he grumbled. You nodded, despite the rudeness, and left your room, pacing to his office to get a spare uniform. You took out a pristine, white shirt and some neatly folded trousers before hurrying back to your room, careful to not crease the clothing. Knocking lightly on the bathroom door, it opened a few seconds later to reveal a shirtless Levi. Quickly, you passed him the clothes, trying to not get distracted by his abs and the scars that adorned his skin. He wordlessly closed the door before you sat on your bed, next to (D/N) who was strangely quiet. She probably just felt bad for spilling the tea on her new 'best friend'. You pulled her into your arms and kissed her cheek, resting your chin on the top of her head as she buried her face in your chest. "It's okay, baby," you said quietly. Upon hearing the click of the door, you flitted your eyes towards it and the raven came into sight as you gave him a small smile. He took the (H/C)-haired girl away from you, holding her in his arms and brushing a few locks from her face. His back faced you, so you weren't able to see the smile he owned. "I'm not angry at you." "You aren't?" "Of course not." She flung her arms around him, grinning which turned into laughter when he tickled her, squirming in his hold. You let a grin grace your lips; you wouldn't mind Levi being (D/N)'s step-father. Wait. No. What am I thinking? Shut up, brain, you thought, fighting your mind that decided to develop feelings for the male during the time you spent here. He placed her back on the ground and straightened her clothes for her, fiddling with a few strands of her hair as he stood behind her, now facing you. As he gazed at you, you could sense that he wanted to say something, so you lifted an eyebrow, questioning his silence. His eyes motioned to (D/N), letting you know that he doesn't want her to be here while he talks to you. You gave a discreet nod in understanding, ending your telepathic conversation there. "Sweetie, do you want to go play with Hanji?" "Okay!" "I'll be right back. I'll take her to Hanji." You took her petite hand in yours, leading her down the corridor as you thought about what Levi would want to speak about. You didn't notice Hanji until (D/N) squealed her name, darting towards her. "Hi!! What do you need?" "Can you stay with her for a while? I need to do something." "Sure!" "Thank you." When you wandered back to your room, you closed the door behind you as you sat back down on the bed, leaning against the headboard and crossed your legs after taking your shoes off, and patted the spot in front of you for Levi, who was still standing in the same spot as if he hadn't moved at all. He joined you on the other side of the bed, sitting on the edge with his feet on the floor. "What did you want to talk about?" "I don't think anyone has asked you yet." "What?" "Who's the father of (D/N)?" Silently, you stared at the sheets that spread over the mattress you rested on. Even after seven months of getting to know the people here, you weren't prepared to answer this question. And they were respectful enough to not inquire you on a subject you never seemed to like bringing up. "He..." you started before swallowing. "He died when the Colossal and Armored Titan attacked Shiganshina. We were fleeing from our house and I had (D/N) in my arms. I was so focused on getting to safety that I didn't realise my husband wasn't near us. When I looked back--" Your voice cracked as you bowed your head and let your hair fall to cover your face. There weren’t any tears, but you just wanted to conceal your expression. "You don't need to carry on if you can't," he whispered, fighting back the urge to hug you. "No. I-I'm fine." You pushed your hair back, keeping your eyes on the material underneath you, which seemed to be more attractive that the man in front of you. "I looked back and I saw a three-metre titan, who grabbed my husband. I saw him look at me as I froze, not able to think about what to do. I was useless and couldn't save the person I loved the most when he was right in front of me." "We all have times like that. And there wouldn’t even have been something you could do without gear." "But he was right there. I saw him get devoured by that damn monster. But he didn't have any fear shown on his face, I could see a smile. I don't even know why he was smiling, but I'm glad he was. At least, I wouldn't have an image of him screaming. Since then, I wanted to join the Survey Corps to be more useful but I waited until (D/N) was old enough to wander around here by herself. She is still quite young, though, she's really mature for her age and I'm happy to see that she doesn't seem full of misery. She was only a year old when her father died, so I doubt she knows anything about him apart from what I tell her. She always loves to hear stories about him and her full attention is at me when I tell her. Every memory I have of him is still fresh, even after all these y--" "(Y/N)!!!" You were startled by the sudden outburst and the slam of your door. Head snapping in that direction, you see Hanji standing there without (D/N). "Hanji, where's (D/N)?" "I don't know!!" "What do you mean you don’t know?!" you yelled. "I went to get Eren, so I left her in my office. I was literally like five minutes and when I went back, she was gone! I don't know where she went and so I came here because I thought you would know where she is." "Hanji, I leave you with her for like ten minutes and you already lost her?!" "I'm sorry!" "Gosh, I'll go look for her myself," you mumbled, trodding past Hanji. "Shorty, what are you doing here?" "I was talking to (Y/N)." "About what?" "You don't need to know." "You guys are hiding something from me!! Tell me!" "No. I have to go look for a girl that someone lost." You paced through the castle, looking in all the possible places she could be, but still couldn't find her even with the help of Levi. A heavy sigh slipped past your lips as you leaned against the wall, your eyes on the ceiling. "Where can she be?" "We haven't checked my room and Erwin's room." "Oh my gosh! You're right! How did I forget about that?" Levi went to his office as you ran to Erwin's and hastily knocked before opening it with no hesitation. "Sir, have you see (D/N)?" "No. What happened?" You quickly explained what happened before jogging to Levi's room to find your daughter in his arms. You beamed and took her from his grip, peppering her face with kisses. "Don't leave the person I leave you with, baby," you whispered as you rested your forehead on hers. "I got bored, so I went to look for Levi. I was going to wait here until he came back." "So, you're just going to forget about your mother and look for him? I see how it is." "No. I love you more, mummy." "More? So you love him? How close are you with my daughter, Levi?" He had allowed you to call him Levi due to the time all three of you have spent together and you were able to form some kind of friendship with him. There was a slight smirk on his lips, while you noticed the flicker of amusement in his ashen hues. "Anyway, we're going to go to the mess hall for dinner. You coming?" He glanced at his desk, where a meagre pile of paperwork sat before looking at both of you and proceeded to walk, letting you know he will come. He shut his door and strolled next to (D/N) as you were on her other side. Anyone who would see you three, and didn't know you, could mistake you for a small, happy family. "AWWWWWWW!!!!!" You rolled your eyes, knowing who it was and it just had to be her to see you. But none of you stopped, ignoring the squealing behind you. "Hanji, you sound like a kettle about to explode! Can you shut up?" you snapped, turning around once being fed up. "You guys are so cute!! I love it! Like you love each other!" "Shut up!!" both of you shouted as the door to the mess hall opened. Silence fell upon the room as they all looked your way. "... Hey, guys!" You shone a smile at them, acting as if nothing happened. "(D/N), in the near future, Levi's going to be your dad," Hanji snickered quietly to the young girl, and you shot daggers at her. "Sh*tty Glasses, shut your f*cking mouth." The pure girl gasped at Levi's words, her (E/C) orbs wide as she stared at him. He apologised to her and strode to a table, forgetting about the people gazing at him. You went to a different table and sat down, not bothering to communicate with anyone since you weren't in a great mood due to Hanji. ~/~ "Mummy!! Mummy!!! Wake up!" "Yes, darling?" you murmured as you were still half asleep. "Mummy!" You were fully awake now, looking at the adorable face in front of yours as (D/N) bounced on you with excitement. "What do you want?" "It's my birthday today!!" "Okay." "Muuuuuummyyyyyy!!!!" "I'm joking, baby. Happy birthday!" you laughed as you plopped her down next to you, tickling her. "Stop!! Stop it!" she giggled.

You stopped tickling her and gave a loving kiss on her cheek as she caught her breath. When you got out of bed, you stretched as a yawn left your mouth. Both of you freshened up and got ready for the day, leaving your room to have breakfast. "Mummy, did you get me a present?" "Of course, I did. I'll give it to you later." "I want to see if Levi got me something!" You weren't exactly looking forward to seeing Levi since you would end up talking to him. And then, Hanji would come out from nowhere and irritate the hell out of you. And you don't want to be grumpy today because then (D/N) wouldn't be as enthusiastic as she is now. When you entered the mess hall, it was already full of scouts who came up to her and wished her a happy birthday. A few gave small presents, due to having little money, which varied of different chocolates and sweets, and that sort of thing. Once you finished eating, you left the building but let (D/N) stay in the mess hall as they all played with her and kept her company. You roamed the grounds of HQ to have some fresh air after all the people that surrounded you minutes before. When you reached the stables, you decided to stroke your chestnut horse. "What's wrong?" You turned around to see Levi nearing you, and gave him a miniature smile. "Nothing." "(D/N) is thrilled to have all the attention, but I couldn't go to her yet since I don't have a present." "Levi, you're her best friend. How could you do that?” you teased. “She was excited to see what you would get her." "I didn't have time to. What did you get her?" "A bicycle." "That's expensive." "I know, but I wanted to make her happy, unlike some other people that failed to do that since they forgot about her birthday." "Shut up. I didn't forget. I was planning to get her something, but I had a lot of work to do," he protested. "I know. I'm kidding," you grinned. "I could say that the bike is from both of us. I mean, I just don't want her to be disappointed that you didn't get anything for your best friend." "You're going to pester me because of this, aren't you?" "Yep! But I'll say it was from both of us." "Thanks." "What? That's the first thanks I've heard from you. You probably just feel bad for forgetting about your best friend's birthday present." "Tch. Well, I didn't forget about the present I got for you." "A present for me? Why?" "Do you not want it?" "What is it?" "Close your eyes." Hesitantly, you complied and lidded your eyes, waiting for him to tell you to open your eyes. But he never did. Instead, you felt gentle hands settle on either side of your hips and lips press against yours, which is when you opened your eyes in shock and saw his eyelids in place of his eyes. After realising what was happening, you returned the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his lips morph into a smirk. "Oooo~! What's happening here~? Looks like they decided to have a party of their own." You parted straight away and saw the huddle of scouts which Hanji and (D/N) stood in front of. A light blush dusted onto your cheeks as you stood behind Levi, who faced the bunch with a glare. "See, I told you that Levi will be your dad in the future, (D/N)." "Levi, mummy? Is that true?" "... I mean... we don't know what going to happen in the future..." you responded nervously. "I want Levi to be my dad!" She dashed towards him and jumped up, so Levi could lift her up. "And I want you to be my daughter," he hummed softly, making sure no one heard him. From here, your future with Levi takes a step forward. You don't know what the future holds for you, (D/N) and Levi, so you don't know if you will be a small, happy family. But for now, you'll cherish every moment you have with Levi and remember every moment, big or small, to tell any other children you have. To think that (D/N) having tea parties with Levi is what brought you two together.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #attack on titan #aot imagines #shingeki no kyoujin #x reader #levi ackerman x reader #reader insert #fluff #kind of dadvi #hes so sweet

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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 years ago

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Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Find my masterlist here. Requests are Open.

Based on a wonderful song fic request I received from @itsametaphorbriansblog for the song Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat by Del Water Gap. I'd never heard the song before but trust me when I say it's awesome and my head was full with these lyrics. And yes, Alice in Wonderland is my favorite book.

Requested: Yes l No

CW: swearing, mentions of drinking, mentions of smut but nothing too explicit, some angst but happy ending.

Plot: Spencer wants to believe he can have a casual relationship with you. But just the thought of someone else touching you the way he does sends him into a tailspin. He wants you all to himself.

WC: 3.9K

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I do not want to fight this anymore

I just want to lay back

And watch you pin me to the bed

How he ended up here was somewhat of a mystery to Spencer but he had no intention of complaining.

He was sure he’d have time to think about it later, but right now all he was focused on was the way you pinned him to the bed, your soft hands wrapped around his wrists.

He was too enamoured taking in every beautiful curve of your body, the swell of your breasts and hips, the feeling of your silky thighs pressed against his own much hairier ones.

He drank you in as you kissed him, your tongue tasting like coffee and vodka. Your lips against his felt as though they’d found their rightful place in the world.

And when you finally lowered yourself on his throbbing member, everything else slipped away. The only thing in the world he could focus on was how fucking good it felt to have you wrapped around him.

It was as though all the stars had aligned and all his birthdays and christmases had come at once.

He never thought he’d have a shot with someone like you. This was better than even his wildest dreams.

I used to call you my best friend

Way back before you were my everything

Now I’m sucking on your neck

You’d worked together for several years and quickly became best friends. But there was always something more between you. Lingering glances, a few too many casual touches.

An odd tension that Spencer had never been able to put his finger on until the first time you saw each other naked and it vanished.

It had started after a few too many drinks at Rossi’s and ended in Spencer’s bed. That had been six months ago and since then the two of you spent all your free time between the sheets together.

It just made sense.

But you had made it clear it was simply sex, a means to an end. You were seeing another guy who knew about Spencer too. You told Spencer he was free to see other women.

He didn’t want to see other women. He only ever wanted to see you. He wanted to see you all the time, preferably naked and sitting on his cock.

He had agreed this was fine. He was ok with this arrangement. He’d told you he was fine with this other guy you were seeing if he was fine with you seeing Spencer.

Fine. Everything was just fine.

And you wrote my favorite song

Now I’m fucked up and carrying on

I do not know the words yet, oh

It had been a lie.

He thought he could separate the physical from his feelings but he wasn’t that kind of man. He wished he could be. But the idea of not having you all to himself made him feel sick.

And it hits me

I don't want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do

Like me

He thought he was ok with it until he was lonely in his apartment one night. He text you asking you to come over.

Your response told him you were with your other man. And he spiralled.

He couldn’t help his mind wander over the things you would be doing together.

Did he kiss you on your neck the way you loved? Did he know the way you liked to be touched?

Did he make you feel the way Spencer did? Did he make you come the way Spencer knew how?

The thought of you naked being pleasured by another man made his heart ache. Images of you touching him, being fucked by him, screaming his name; it was too much.

He wanted to be the only one who got to touch you like that; to see you at your orgasms peak.

It really wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to share you. He didn’t want to be left alone in his room wracked with sadness at the thought of you with another man.

Is it okay?

That I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do

Like me

Yeah

“What did you get up to with Matt last night?” Spencer asked as he made you both coffees the next morning.

You rolled your eyes.

“Mark.” you sighed as you spoke. You knew Spencer knew his name, he had an eidetic memory for god sake. He was doing it deliberately.

“Matt, Mark same difference.” he shrugged, pouring sugar into his cup.

“We just hung out.” you took the other mug he’d filled and twirled your spoon around in it. “You know, usual stuff.”

You leant back against the counter, holding the warm mug between your hands and inhaling the smell.

Spencer turned to look at you.

You had a noticeable hickey on your neck, one he certainly hadn’t left. You must know he could see it.

“The usual stuff you and Morgan would do when you hang out or the usual stuff you and I do when we hang out?”

You rolled your eyes again and pushed yourself away from the counter and headed back towards your desk.

Spencer followed close behind you.

“Just because you don’t speak doesn’t mean you didn’t answer.” he whispered as he caught up with you. “Nice hickey.”

He practically stormed to his desk and threw himself in the chair.

You sighed to yourself. You should have known Spencer would be this way.

A little while later Morgan passed by your desk as you had your nose buried in a case file.

“Ohhh looks like pretty girl got some loving last night! The size of that mark on your neck Miss thing!”

You looked up at him, your cheeks stained crimson.

You made brief eye contact with Spencer. If you weren’t mistaken, his eyes were filled with tears.

He pushed his chair back and stormed away from where JJ and Emily were now getting a good look at your hickey too.

“What’s up with him?” Morgan frowned.

“I don’t think he’s feeling too good today.” You replied.

It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Tell me that nobody else touches you

Like I do, like I do

Oh, tell me that nobody else touches you like me

Tell me that nobody else touches you

Like I do, like I do

Oh, tell me that nobody else touches you like me

There was no case to take you out of the state and you were looking forward to going home.

Spencer caught up with you as you stepped in the elevator and shoved his way inside just before the doors closed.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked the second the doors shut behind him.

“Not tonight Spence, I’m exhausted.” you stifled a yawn as if to prove your point.

“Did you use all your energy on Mike?” he sounded so bitter.

“I did not use all my energy on Mark. I’m tired from dealing with a whiny, jealous baby all day.” you rolled your eyes yet again.

“I’m not jealous.” he scoffed. “Or whiny. Or a baby.”

“Sure you aren’t.” The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.

You patted Spencer on his shoulder as you stepped out.

“Goodnight Spencer, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He pouted a little as he watched you go.

Maybe it was time to just let you go entirely.

You’re pulling on my habit lines

The more I smoke the more I find

I can’t just fall asleep instead

One am and Spencer’s phone startled him awake. He was used to being called in the middle of the night for work so he was wide awake in an instant.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and put it to his ear.

“Reid.” he spoke, expecting it to be Hotch calling about a case.

“Hey,” your voice was low and sultry.

Spencer swallowed.

“What?” he knew what. He knew exactly what you were calling for.

He had to say no. He had to stay strong. He couldn’t keep giving in to you. Not anymore.

“You know what. Don’t play dumb Spence, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“Well I’m touching myself.” you moaned softly. “But I do wish it was your hand between my legs.”

You heard a breathy sigh leave his lips. You knew that was enough to make him hard.

“Fuck Y/N,” he groaned. “I’ll be over in a half hour.”

You grinned as you hung up the phone.

Spencer wished he wasn’t so weak. He wished he could say no to you.

He wished he could tell you it was him or Mark. You had to choose.

He would if he didn’t fear the answer.

And you’re not my protector

I hope you know it wasn’t her

That kept me off your side of the bed, oh

He put his all in that night. He wanted to make you feel the best you’d ever felt so the next time you saw Mark you were thinking of him.

He made you come seven times, you honestly didn’t think you would walk for days after. By the time the sun came up you were so sensitive you didn’t know if you’d be able to dress for work without your clothes flustering your sensitive skin.

“Jeez Spence, I hope we’ve got another office day today.” You ached all over. “I don’t know if I’m going to be any good in the field like this.”

He felt an odd sense of pride. You’d remember this, you’d remember how good he’d made you feel.

He hoped he’d fucked Mark right out of your head.

And it hits me

I don’t want anybody else touching you

Like I do

Like me

“Jesus pretty girl, your hickeys have hickeys!” Morgan chuckled as you walked into the BAU with no sleep and only one coffee in your system.

Spencer tried to hide the smug look from his face.

“Another night with your lover boy aye?” Emily nudged you in the arm as you made a beeline for the coffee machine.

He felt very good about himself right now.

“Speaking of your lover boy,” JJ piped up. “You had some flowers delivered this morning.”

Spencer’s face fell. No. No that wasn’t fair.

You forgot all about the coffee and headed to your desk where a beautiful array of red roses awaited you.

Spencer wanted to take them and stomp on them. The way you were stomping on his heart.

“Oh wow.” You smiled as you read the note. “How sweet.”

“If you ask me he’s trying too hard.” Spencer tried not to sound bitter or sad as he spoke. He failed miserably.

“Well good job no ones asking you.” You shot him an annoyed glance.

The tension suddenly grew thick. You and Spencer glared at one another while Morgan, Emily and JJ stared on in confusion.

“We have a case.” Hotch’s voice broke the stare off.

Thank god you thought. Saved before you had a chance to say something you’d regret.

You put the flowers down and headed towards the round table room. You heard Spencer shuffling behind you.

“What was that about?” JJ frowned.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Emily shrugged.

“I think I’ve got an idea.” Morgan smirked as the three of them started to follow. “Pretty boy has a crush on pretty girl.”

It is okay?

That I don’t want anybody else touching you

Like I do

Like me

You barely said two words to Spencer in the four days you spent in Missouri unless it pertained to the case.

Everyone could tell something was amiss between the two of you. The team was so used to your playful banter and inside jokes you had with one another. It was painfully obvious something was going on.

It was late when you arrived back at Quantico so Hotch sent you all straight home.

Spencer caught up with you in the parking lot.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

“No.” You didn’t turn back to look at him as you headed to your car.

“Y/N please we need to talk.”

“I’m sick of this.” You groaned as you reached your vehicle. “You said you were ok with us seeing other people Spencer.” You spun back to look at him.

He was playing with the strap of his messenger back in an awkward fashion.

“Well...I’m not.” He shrugged.

“No shit.” You scoffed. “I’m sorry Spencer but I can’t do this anymore. I like Mark, he’s nice. We have fun.”

“So I’m not nice? You don’t have fun with me?” He stepped a little closer to you.

“You’re draining Spencer.” You confessed. “I once thought maybe you and I could be more than, whatever this is, but it’s exhausting Spence. With Mark it’s just easy. We spoke yesterday and he said he wanted us to get serious. No seeing other people. I told him I’d like that.”

Spencer’s heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. He felt as though you had punched the air from his lungs.

He fought for a breath, stumbling on his feet a little.

“You’re...you’re choosing him?”

“Yes.” You chewed your lip guilty. “I’m sorry Spencer but honestly, you’re too much like hard work.” You turned away from him and opened the drivers door, closing it quickly behind you before you changed your mind.

You watched Spencer in your rear view mirror as you pulled out of your parking space.

He hadn’t moved. He just stood there, dejected and sad staring in your wake.

You were barely out of the parking lot before your first tear fell.

You’re in his living room

And it may not mean much you

But your plates are in his sink

And your sweaters on his bed

Won’t you text me when you’re home?

My baby, spare me all the rest

It had been little over a month and Spencer wouldn’t make eye contact with you. He wouldn’t speak directly to you. He wouldn’t even be in the same room as you if he could help it.

At this point the whole team knew something was up. Hotch had pulled you both up on it but you’d both lied and said everything was fine.

Everything was far from fine.

Every night for just over a month Spencer had cried himself to sleep. He’d spent his waking hours in his apartment imaging what the two of you were doing.

Were you laughing at movies? Reading together? Having romantic dinners or walks in the park hand in hand? Were you making love over and over again?

His sleep was haunted by thoughts of you too. No where was safe. He’d started wondering if he could even work with you anymore. Maybe it was time to go into teaching?

Being around you every day just didn’t seem like an option anymore because every time he saw you, his heart broke all over again.

Please just tell me

That nobody else touches you like I do

Oh tell me that nobody touches you like me

It wasn’t just that he’d lost the woman he had started developing feelings for, he had lost his best friend too. He wanted to talk to someone about the heartache he was feeling and usually that someone would be you.

He wanted his best friend back. It was killing him.

He didn’t know how to deal with losing you so he didn’t. He didn’t know how to talk to you anymore so he stopped talking to you altogether.

The flower deliveries stopped after a few months which made it slightly easier for him to forget about you dating another man.

After about seven months your demeanor shifted a little. You stopped talking about Mark as much and were more vague about your weekend plans.

By the time it was coming up to a year you stopped talking about him entirely. When Spencer overheard you speaking to JJ or Emily about your weekend plans it was always along the lines of “TV and pizza for one.”

For Garcia’s birthday the whole team was going out for drinks at a local bar. Since you ended things with him Spencer avoided hanging out with the team outside of work when you would be there. He would always come up with some kind of excuse.

But Garcia was not the kind of person to take no for an answer.

So reluctantly he went along. Emily helped him pick out a gift for her, a unicorn charm for her bracelet. Certainly not something Spencer would have chosen but Emily insisted the tech analyst would love it.

Whilst in the jewelry store a delicate silver necklace had caught his eye. It had an intricate charm of a bottle with a little label with the words “Drink Me” etched into it.

It had taken him back to a conversation from years past.

You were still new to the team and trying to keep your head down and not get in anyone's way. The team was all so close and you didn’t want to step on any toes.

On the way back from your latest case in New York you didn’t sleep like the rest of the team. You were wide awake, probably on a high from the adrenaline brought on by the case.

You sat at the back of the jet alone with your head buried in a book. You didn’t notice someone watching you or approaching you until you heard the leather seat opposite you squeak a little as your company sat down.

You looked up to see Spencer smiling softly at you.

“What are you reading?” he asked with genuine interest.

You blushed a little chewing your lip, turning the book over in your hands.

“Alice in Wonderland.” you slid the old book across the table to him.

He picked it up cautiously and turned the worn pages.

“First edition.”

“Yeah.” you nodded as he looked back up at you. “It was my dad’s. He used to read it to me when I was young. He passed away a few years ago and it helps me feel close to him.” it was the most open you’d been since joining the team.

Spencer smiled at you sadly and handed you back the book.

“I’m sorry about your dad. But that’s nice you have that.”

“Yeah I suppose it is.”

Emily had stepped out of the store to take a phone call and he had found himself purchasing the necklace. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t help himself.

Garcia had loved her charm, she’d squealed and hugged him so tightly Spencer felt the air being squeezed from his lungs.

She opened the rest of her presents while the rest of the team drank. You and Spencer kept making accidental eye contact and each time you would both smile awkwardly at one another.

You got up from the table to buy a round of drinks. Spencer watched you go. It would be his perfect chance to get to talk to you. He needed to know what was going on. Had you and Mark split up? And if you had, did that mean there was anyway he still stood a chance with you?

He’d wanted to ask for so long but every time he went to say something, the words got stuck in his throat, refusing to leave.

But this time he was determined. He needed to know where he stood once and for all.

At the very least could he get his best friend back?

And it hits me

I don’t want anybody else touching you

Like I do

Like me

“Thought you might need a hand.” Spencer sidled up next to you. It was the closest you’d been to one another in almost a year.

“Thanks.” you smiled softly, a little awkwardly.

You looked at each other for a moment, neither of you sure what to say to each other.

Not so long ago the two of you could talk about anything and everything until you were blue in the face. You never ran out of things to talk to each other about. So much had changed.

Spencer reached into his inside pocket and pulled out the small jewelry box. He turned it over in his hand a few times before he held his hand out.

“I saw this when I was getting Garcia’s birthday present and I couldn’t help myself.” he shrugged like it was no big deal.

You chewed your lip as you cautiously took the box from him. You ran your fingers over it for a few seconds before you slowly opened it.

Tears immediately sprang to your eyes as you looked down at the little Alice in Wonderland themed necklace cushioned inside the box.

You looked back up at Spencer with a sniff.

“Spence,” a small tear escaped your eye. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything about you.” he shrugged again.

You sniffed back any more tears that might fall and gently lifted the necklace from the box.

“Could you help me?” you held it out for Spencer who nodded and took the necklace from you.

He unclasped it as you turned around. He gently draped it around your neck and secured it.

You turned back to face him, you fingers on the necklace charm.

“Thank you so much Spencer, I love it.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled. “I hope Mitch doesn’t mind you wearing it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“We broke up.” you didn’t bother to correct him on his name. “A few months ago.”

“Oh.” Spencer tried not to look too pleased about this. “Do you mind me asking why?”

“I think you know why.” you stepped a little closer to him. “He wasn’t the right man for me.”

“Oh.” he squeaked a little. “That’s uhm...I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No you aren’t.” you laughed, stepping even closer to him.

You placed your hands carefully on his shoulders and you felt him practically melt into your touch.

“Anyway I’m the one that should be sorry.” you whispered.

“For what?” he croaked, feeling weak at your proximity.

“For choosing the wrong man. I should have known better.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, your body so close he could feel your warmth. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this before, but I have a guilty pleasure for rom-coms.”

“You’ve definitely never told me that before. I would have remembered giving you a hard time for that.” he laughed a little and so did you.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” you nodded. “Anyway, with my extensive knowledge of rom-coms I should have known.”

“Should have known what?” he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“That the girl always ends up with the best friend.” and with that you pressed your lips against his.

Spencer immediately took hold of your face in his hands and deepened the kiss.

You didn’t care that your whole team was probably watching. You didn’t care the whole bar could have been watching. All you cared about was Spencer.

When the kiss broke you both had tears in your eyes. You kept your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist to keep you close.

“I never want to have to think about someone else touching you the way I do again Y/N. I want to be the only person who gets to touch you.”

“Ok.” you smiled brightly at him. “But only if I get to be the only person who gets to touch you.”

Spencer laughed, kissing you again.

“That my love,” he smiled. “Is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Is it okay?

That I don’t want

Anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do

Like me

—————————————————————

Taglist (find my tagist form here if you want to be added) -

All ships and genres -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl

@measure-in-pain

@ptrs-prkrs

@sexy-dumpster-fire

All SR x Reader -

@boxofsparklingmuses

@frickin-bats

@reidandhisgourd

@ukai-hoe

SR x Reader one shots -

@seasonfivereid

@willowrose99

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #penelope garcia

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vdlest · 4 years ago

Text

Nice to meet you

Characters:

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:

The restaurant where Bucky always take Yori to eat with him is where you actually work. You've been watching and staring at him for quite some time now, but didn't have the courage to introduce yourself to him. But what happens when Yori asked Bucky to take you out?

Warning:

None

There they are again. You see two familiar faces entering the restaurant you are working at. You've been seeing this guy who is in his late 30s accompanied by an elderly for quite some time now. You don't know if they are father & son, or anything, but one thing's for sure, you like the guy. You like him even if you don't know what his name is, even if you have no idea who he is. His treatment to the elder guy is enough reason to like him.

No one is taking their table so you took the chance to finally have a closer look of the guy you've been liking for quite some time. Whenever they come, you are either busy with another table or assigned in the cashier. But this time, the opportunity is in front of you.

So you took it.

"Hi, ready to order?" you asked them casually, even if your stomach is getting butteflies inside it. Is this his effect to you? You don't know.

The older man stared at you and smiled, "Just call me Yori. I can guess you're calling me "old man" in your thoughts," he joked.

Yori's joke made you chuckle, "Okay, Yori, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N and I'll be your server for today," you said as you get the paper and pen on your pocket to get their orders, but still no luck from the man you've been eyeing, you still don't know what his name is, "What can I get you for your lunch?" you asked them, glancing at the man who's still busy looking at the menu.

"I'll have Fish and Chips, old man's been craving it since last night," Yori said looking at you. Good thing you were able to switch your eyes to Yori, but when he smiled at you, he must've seen you looking at the man beside him. Yori's smile made you somehow nervous.

You tried to act normal and turned to the man beside Yori, hoping that you would finally know his name by the end of this day.

"How 'bout you, Sir? What can..." you weren't able to finish your question for him when his eyes finally met yours. It was only a matter of time before you realized that this man has a gorgeous pair of blue eyes. You cleared your throat, "What can I get you?" you asked him, dismissing the thought of fantasizing about him.

"I'll just have Clam Chowder," he answers you as he handed you the menu, "Thank you."

"Would you care for anything to drink, then?" you grabbed the menu from his hand, "You should..."

"You should ask her out," Yori said to the guy beside him, making your eyes widened in surprise.

His reaction was same as yours, he's almost embarassed to what Yori just said. Your cheeks are burning red in your guess, but you tried to be as professional as possible. One more thing, you don't want the guy to think that you're into him, that'll make things more awkward as it is now.

"Yori," the man glared at Yori before he moved his eyes back to you, "I'm sorry, he's just really like this from time to time."

You are already getting tired of calling him "guy" or "man." You've been wanting to know his name but God knows how?

"It's fine," you replied then you prepare yourself to leave, "If there's anything you need from me, just let me know. Thank you."

"His name is James," Yori said as you turn your back on them, but you pretended that you did not hear it since you're already inches away from them.

Now, you finally know what his name is.

•••

When their order is finally ready, you took a deep breath before heading your way to their table. Things are more awkward now. You wished that you weren't their server so you'll just get to watch and like him from afar. Not like this.

"Here's your order," you tried your best to smile from ear to ear, even though you're feeling embarassed and a bit awkward already. You put down their orders and once you're done you told them to enjoy their meal.

"So what's a pretty lady like you doing here?" Yori asked you.

Oh, great, small talk, you thought.

You badly want to go back inside the kitchen and start serving other customers but you remembered what your manager told you when the customers make a small talk with you — answer them and interact with them, that way they'll have the will to come back.

"I'm just saving up money to start my own business," you answered Yori.

You could see in your peripheral that James is looking at you. As much as you want to know what kind of look he's giving you, you fight that idea.

"I like business-minded people. They are the best in organization and handling things," he complimented. "You got a boyfriend?" he asked you another question.

You shook your head and smile, "No, I don't. I guess that's the downside of being a business-minded, no one dares to date you," you joked.

"I think I'll take that dare."

Your eyes traveled to James who suddenly spoke.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" you asked him.

"You think no one dares to date business-minded woman? I'll tell you, what," he smiles at you, "I like accepting dares."

Is he asking you out?

"Just in case you're puzzled with his words," Yori joined the conversation again, making you look his way again, "He's asking you out."

"Really?" you asked Yori.

Your eyes moved back to James and the way he stares at you makes your heart skip a beat, countless times. Your fingers gripped on the tray you're holding, trying to contain your happiness.

"What time's the end of your shift?" he asked.

You gulped, "I'm out by 6."

"Great, I'll come back at 6 to pick you up, then," he extended his hand towards you, "I'm James Barnes, but call me Bucky."

You reached for his hand, "Nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm Y/N." The touch of his soft hand on yours answers all your untold questions about him.

Ever since you saw him, you kept on asking yourself what it feels like to be his girl, what it feels like to be hugged by him, what if feels like to hold hands with him, and what if feels like to be kissed by his lips. But now, the touch of his hand on yours and the fact that you two have a date later is more than enough.

•••

When he said he's gonna be at your workplace at 6, he meant he's gonna be 30 minutes early. You asked him to sit down on one of the vacant tables, when he did, he handed you the bouquet of flowers he's holding. You didn't want to conclude that it was meant for you, but when he handed it to you, your heart melted like an ice cream under the sun.

As you finished your shift, you and Bucky went on your way. He said he already had everything planned out, so he did not bother to ask you where you want to go. Well, that's how you like it anyway. You want to be surprised.

The two of you ended up in the nearby beach, before you settled down in the sand, you passed by some food stalls and that's where you and Bucky bought food and drinks for your date.

"I hope you like sunsets," he said as both of you sat down on the sand and started munching over the food you guys bought, "I should've asked you abour where you want to go, but..." he seemed a little nervous so you cut him off.

"I like it."

His eyes went to yours and now he's puzzled, "You like what in particular?" he asked.

You smiled, "I like all of these. I like sunsets. I like how you planned this night for us. I like it. I appreciate it." You handed him his drink, "I'm not expert in date ideas as well, so no worries."

He chuckled and that's the only time you noticed how cute he is when he laugh and smile, especially his cheeks reaching for his eyes.

"I haven't dated anyone in decades so that explains my old fashioned ways and ideas," you don't know what he means when he said he haven't dated in decades.

"What are you? A 80 year old man?" you joked.

"Actually a hundred and six."

You burst into laughter but his face remained serious, "You are so funny, Bucky." You sighed as you stare on the sunset in front of you, "You know, some of my classmates bullied me when I was in elementary 'cause they think I'm an old soul or something, so don't worry if someone thinks of you as an old-fashioned or something. It's not really bad."

He frowned, "Why did they bullied you?"

"Because they found out that I'm listening to The Beatles, Paul Anka, Frankie Valli, and not into Britney Spears or something trendy during our time," you explained. You took a deep breath once more, "I guess I just really prefer old and classic songs. I find them amusing and the words that they used in making them feels like they are really talking to you and your soul."

You could still remember back in the day, you asked your dad to bought you a vinyl because you were fascinated by it.

"So what's your favorite song?" Bucky asked you.

"Can't take my eyes off of you, it's really classic," you said before taking a sip from your drink. "That was also my parents' theme song when they got married," sadness took over you when you remembered your late parents, "That was also the song I sang for them during their funeral."

You felt Bucky's eyes on you.

You turn to him and nodded to his unsaid question, "I'm an orphan now. They died because of a car accident. And when they died I used to live with my grandma but she died ad well three years ago, that makes me independent from then on. That makes me alone and living my own life." You tried giving him a smile, "How about you? What are your favorites?" you changed the topic.

But even though you already changed the topic he did not let go of the fact that something changed in your mood when you talked about your parents.

"I know how hard it is to lose both of your parents. I felt them too," he reached for your hand, making you shiver, "But if they'd see you now, I'll bet they're proud of the woman you are now."

You looked down and smile, "Why do you even talk like you already know me?" you asked him. "You and I just met," you reminded him as you look back at him.

"We just met but I've seen you and how hard you work in that restaurant every single time I was there and every time I pass by it," he revealed.

All along you thought he doesn't know you exist, but he does. He's totally aware of your existence and he knows how hard worker you are.

"Don't feel bad for being alone and independent, 'cause you should be proud of yourself. You know how to take care of yourself without depending or relying your happiness to other people. Sometimes living alone isn't that bad, it will let you experience things that will taught you a lot of lessons in life," you felt he squeezed your hand, making your eyes travel to your and his hands holding together.

You learned from him that he's not related to Yori, they are just neighbors and he's just trying to help Yori as the latter is living on his own.

Once darkness consumed the sky, the two of you head back to your apartment, which is only a few blocks away from the place where you work. You asked him if he wants to have a cup of coffee, he said yes but before you guys could enter your apartment, he received a phone call. After he talked someone over the phone, he said he needed to go.

"Is everything alright?" you asked him concernly. You noticed the sudden change of his mood after he took the call.

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry I need to go but I promise, I'll call you and text you." Both of you already exchanged numbers so you just got to wait when he will call and text you. But you said to yourself you're not gonna expect anything, "I had a wonderful time with you tonight and God knows I didn't want to end our date like this but I just got to go. It's call of duty."

You don't understand what he mean by call of duty but you have no other choice but to let him go.

"Take care, Bucky," that's all you could tell him.

You could tell in his reaction that he isn't happy with the answer he got from you.

Somehow, you are telling yourself to not expect anything from him. In that way, you won't get your hopes up and you won't end up getting hurt and disappointed. It's better that way.

You were about to close your door when his hand stopped you from doing so.

"Wha--"

Before you could say a word, he walked towards you and closed the space between the two of you as he leaned in to claim your lips.

The sweet taste of his lips makes your knees weak, but his arms rescued you and gently pinned you against the door. It's not long before you kissed him back and enjoy the taste of his lips.

Last night you dreamed of meeting him, of knowing him, and tonight, you'll be sleeping peacefully as you get satisfaction of meeting him, having a date with him, and getting the chance to kiss him. What a progress in a day.

When you heard your neighbor coming out the other door, you pulled away from your kiss.

You and Bucky stared at each other while waiting for your neighbor to evaporate.

Once your neighbor is gone, he kissed your lips one more time. When he pulled away, he smiled at you, "That's the first time I kissed a woman in decades, so if it's that bad, give me the consideration," he joked.

"No," you shook your head, "No one ever kissed me that good before."

His smile grew wider as he gave your cheeks a caress, "I'll see you when I get back."

"Don't promise anything to me, Bucky. Just do it," you said before entering your apartment and closing your door.

Like what you said, you will not expect anything for the coming days or even weeks. You won't do anything about it. You won't get your hopes up and wait for his move, it's up to him whether he'll call you or not. But a little part of you hope that he will.

A little hope wouldn't hurt anyway.

-v.dl

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel #bucky barnes fluff

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realm-sweet-realm · 3 years ago

Text

First-Time Meeting

This is a request for creepyalienghost- a story about Sammy and Norman meeting for the first time in high school.

I’m using her Sammy and Norman for this (with her permission, of course!), so their backgrounds and characterizations will be different from those of my own.

I hope you all enjoy this!

Oh, and content warning: there will be talk of abuse and depiction of bullying.

---

The date was August 31st, evening, and Norman hid as some teenagers his age were playing in the lake- the popular boys playing King of the Dock as the smaller ones kept a hundred yards of distance and gave them the occasional glance. No one saw Norman watching from the brush. He was new in this little rural town, having only lived there a month, but he was quite sure that he knew the dynamics of the local youths as well as one who had lived there all their life.

Norman’s 15-year-old life hadn’t always been pleasant. Having grown up in foster care, he’d lived with six different families in four different cities, and had learned that nothing lasts. He’d also learned at his last school that teenage boys are cruel. At every prior school, he’d gotten along fine on his own, spending most of his recesses wandering alone or drifting in and out of friend groups as he felt like it. His last school- which had also been his first high school- had been different. He remembered being ganged up on and beaten bloody for looking too long at the wrong girls and for generally being unpopular.

Not this time, he promised himself. This time he was going to be a top dog. He might not have been the most sociable, but he was as big and strong as most grown men, capable of being crude and mean, and if the world of high school boys was eat or be eaten, then by God he was willing to eat. Just three years and he would be able to get out of here, settle somewhere, put down some roots, and be kind.

The next day, Norman arrived at his new high school for the first day of class, running in five minutes before the bell and thankfully before the teacher. In a stroke of luck, he saw an empty desk beside one of the popular boys and took it. His name was Brady- Norman knew that from his watching. He was big, he was a football player, and Norman had seen this guy beat smaller boys to a pulp. Definitely someone Norman wanted as an ally.

“Hey, do they let us drink in this class?” Norman asked him casually.

“Nope, but the teacher’s a pushover,” Brady replied without even looking at him.

“Sweet.” With that, Norman dug two cans of Coke out of his backpack. He knew that Brady loved his Coke. “Want one?”

“Tch. You fuckin’ tryhard,” the boy said, but he took a can. “Name’s Brady. Yours?”

“Norman.”

“Wanna have lunch with me and my friends today?”

“Yep,” Norman said. Mission accomplished. The two boys chatted a bit, but a minute or so into that, another boy stepped in that demanded Norman’s attention.

Norman’s first thought when he saw him was that someone’s younger brother must have wandered in. A few inches shorter than the shortest girl in the class and far too thin for a fifteen-year-old, the kid looked ten years old at first glance. Looking closer, though, Norman realized that his facial structure was as developed as anyone else’s there, and his bone structure was too big and too prominent to be a little kid’s- he looked underfed, not young. Most telling, though, were the cigarette burns on his wrists and arms. Was this another foster kid, recently pulled from an abusive home? Was that why Norman hadn’t seen him until now? He had to know. When the teacher did attendance, Norman learned the boy’s name: Sammy Lawrence.

The first three classes came and went without issue, and Norman sat with the bullies at lunch, using the knowledge he’d stored up on them to befriend them with relative ease. Unfortunately, Sammy wasn’t in any of Norman’s other classes- he’d found the kid mysterious in a way and felt the urge to know more about him.

It wasn’t until three days later that Norman had a serious run-in with Sammy. He and his friends had been walking to the beach together after school when Brady saw Sammy and decided they liked the look of his book bag.

“I’d like to make it mine,” he said.

“You’re gonna steal from a little runt like him? Come on, dude,” Norman replied, in a tone that implied that that was just such an unthinkably lame thing to do. Hopefully, Norman thought, that would repel him from the idea.

“I’m not gonna steal it,” Brady specified, “he’s gonna give it to me. Watch this.” With that, the group broke away from Norman and headed over to Sammy. Norman followed close behind. When Sammy turned to face the gang, he looked terrified.

“Hey, kid. Nice backpack you’ve got there. Can I have it?”

Sammy’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.

“I said, can I have it?”

“No,” Sammy whimpered.

With that, one of the larger boys grabbed Sammy’s arm and another took out a pocketknife. “Hand it over or we’ll cut it off you,” the Brady threatened.

On instinct, Norman came up and slapped Brady’s hand away from Sammy. “Don’t,” he asserted.

“Are you serious?” Brady demanded.

Nothing to do, Norman supposed, but dig himself deeper. “Yeah. If you want to do this, you’ll have to fight me for it.”

Brady’s face twisted in disgust. “No way are we doing this where everyone can see us. I’ll see you in the parking lot tomorrow after school. Then we’ll settle things.”

With that, the three boys passed them by. One of them used his knife to cut a slit in Norman’s shirt as they went.

Norman stood in stunned terror. One week, and he was already making powerful enemies. This would not be a good school.

“You okay?” Sammy asked, “Thank you for saving me.”

Norman forced a smile. “It’s okay. You want to go get slushies or something?” Hey, any friend was better than none.

“Sure,” Sammy replied.

The two started walking together in awkward silence. “Are you a foster kid?” Norman asked, unsure how else to bring it up. “Like me?” he added a little too late, so not to offend him.

“No,” Sammy said, not looking at him.

God, Norman thought, I’m getting into a fight for this kid and I’m still blowing it with him. “You got any hobbies?”

“Yeah,” the boy said with slightly more enthusiasm, “back in the city where I used to live, music was my thing. I sure hope that they’ll at least have a school band or something here, even though it’s really small. Do you want to see something I keep in my bag?”

After the two had bought their slushies, they sat down at the park next to the corner store, and Sammy took out what looked to be a regular notebook. The pages fluttered open to reveal page after page of musical notes, all written in blue pen ink on the lined paper, along with lines of blue self-created meter to contain them. It was full to the last page.

“Wow. Man, I wish I were that dedicated to anything. What inspires you?”

Sammy shrugged. “Other music. Things that happen me, or things I see happen. Writing music just makes me happy.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t hand over your bag?”

“Yeah. I always figure that since I’ve survived long enough to write all of these, I can survive whatever ends up happening to me.”

A sudden desire to hug the poor boy came over Norman, but before he could say anything, Sammy dug another notebook out of his backpack. “Wanna see some of my newer stuff? I’ve gotten better!” Sammy said, cheering up again and, for the first time, meeting Norman’s eyes.

The boys ended up spending the rest of the night together, and became great friends after the fact. The fight with Brady came and went without fanfare- it ended in a draw after they’d exchanged blows, bruises and black eyes. A week later it was only a memory, and Norman did make other friends despite the rocky start. Sammy gradually opened up to him about his abusive home life, and their friend group tried to protect him the best they could.

Three years after Norman and Sammy had met, they graduated and then scattered to the winds. Sammy was determined to put himself through college and find a career in music, so he moved back to Manhattan while Norman stayed put. With no real idea where his ambitions should lie, he found himself spending a few years drifting between menial jobs and spending his nights with his friends and boyfriends. He drifted to New York when he could find no work at the lakeside village. He was hired as the cameraman for Joey Drew Studios. Not his first choice, but as good as any.

And on his first day, Norman took his place at the Projector booth and saw someone unmistakable: Sammy. He looked so much healthier, dignified, even, now that his face and body had filled out. The wounds on his arms had healed to be barely noticeable, and he was overlooking the band with an unshakable confidence and composure. He’d made it! He was having a bad day, if the scowl and the eyebags told Norman anything, but he’d made it! He had a musical career like he’d wanted.

Norman was overjoyed to see him again until Sammy turned to face him, and Norman saw his black eye, hiding beneath a too-thin layer of makeup.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #norman polk #sammy lawrence #norman x sammy #my fanfiction

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peggyrose19 · 4 years ago

Text

What Happens in Vegas Doesn’t Always Stay There

i was gonna do homework but i got inspired and wrote this instead. i also took a 90 minute nap at 6pm so now i’m bouncing off the walls and can’t actually make myself focus for longer than 30 seconds.....what was i saying? anyways this really got away from me wow. i have no regrets.

characters by @lumosinlove

@im-oknutzy-trash, @wonder-womans-ex

cw: mentions of characters being drunk, swearing, idiot gays

Alex wasn’t sure how on earth they’d gotten on the topic of marriage. But conversations were always chaotic between the three of them so really he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Besides, if he was being honest with himself, he’d been thinking about it far more than he cared to admit.

He enjoyed the idea, the three of them being married. Making the commitment to each other. It wasn’t legal, but that didn’t matter. They could still be married in spirit. Maybe one day it would even happen.

“Y’know, Alex and I are married,” Kasey said casually, raising the bottle to his lips. Natalie gaped at him.

“You what?”

Alex laughed. “I forgot about that.”

Natalie glanced between the two of them quickly. “Please explain.”

With a laugh, Alex just shook his head. “We were playing Vegas in 2015, right after they legalized gay marriage, right? Both of us got shit-faced drunk and, in our drunken state, decided that getting married was an obviously very sound plan.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, after we had sobered up, we had kind of....forgotten it happened.”

“Then a few days later I was going through some pictures on my phone for whatever reason, and found one from that night, of the two of us holding a marriage certificate. Alex found it in his suitcase when we got home.”

Alex and Kasey both watched Natalie expectantly. For a long moment, she just stared at them in disbelief, mouth open almost comically wide. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” she cackled. “I cannot believe you two.”

Kasey shrugged. “We never got around to getting it annulled. I suppose neither of us particularly wanted to. We could now, I guess. If you wanted us to.”

Nat’s laughter faded. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well what about you?” Alex asked before Kasey could, as synced with him as he always had been.

“What about me? I don’t need a piece of paper to say I’m in love with you two, not to mention it’s impossible anyways. One day we can have a ceremony with our family and friends and it’ll be dramatic and over-the-top, but for right now? I don’t need anything else.”

Alex very nearly melted at that. He glanced over at Kasey, unreadable to most everyone else, who was smiling that half smile Alex loved so much.

“You wanna get married someday?” he asked quietly.

“Hell yeah, I do.”

Alex had never spent a whole lot of time with Sirius Black. He was a bit of an enigma to him, someone so well-known in the media but so secretive in real life. These days, everyone knew Sirius as the first gay NHL player, and the first player to be married to his own teammate. Alex had gotten to know him as Kasey’s teammate, as a good player and captain. So when he found himself beside Sirius and Remus in a crowded bar, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say to the two of them. He could have gone and joined Kasey and Natalie, somewhere on the dance floor together, but he had never been one for public dancing.

“So. How does it feel to be married?” he asked the pair, who immediately glanced at each other and grinned sappily.

“Really good, man,” Sirius replied, not-so-subtly grabbing Remus’ hand. Alex smiled at the gesture. “And being on the same team is great, I mean we get to see each other so much more now.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Alex replied unthinkingly, remembering playing with Kasey even before they were together and relishing in the closeness it brought, the long hours they spent together both on and off the ice. He’d missed having that recently.

“What?”

Alex burst out laughing before he could stop himself, receiving a confused look from Remus and a glare from Sirius.

“You good?” Remus asked warily.

“Fine, fine.”

“What d’you mean ‘it’s cool’?” Sirius asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Ah jeez.” Alex shook his head at himself. “Well, might as well get this over with.”

“Get what over with? Alex what the hell are you talking about?” Sirius looked bewildered, watching him with equal parts suspicion and confusion. Remus too was frowning, but there was a knowing look in his eye, as if he was starting to catch on.

He sighed heavily. “It’s possible Kasey and I got married like, six years ago.”

“What.”

“Yeah. Back when we were on the Rangers together, we were playing Vegas when gay marriage was legalized. And the two of us got shit-faced drunk and decided getting married was a good idea. Then we promptly forgot about it in the morning and once we finally remembered, never actually bothered to annul it. So. We’re still married. Technically. According to the state of Nevada.”

Sirius and Remus both stared at him, expressions strikingly similar to Natalie’s. Alex eyed them warily, unsure what was going to happen now.

“You mean we’re not the first NHL players to marry each other?” Sirius asked, and he seemed so genuinely disappointed Alex had to fight back a laugh.

“Uh, I guess not?”

“Merde,” Sirius swore. Remus just looked at him.

“Does that really matter?” he asked amusedly.

“Of course it matters! We’re the first, Remus! This is a very important development.”

“Okay,” Remus laughed, nodding along. “Whatever you say.”

Sirius just grumbled under his breath.

“Hey Harz, how attached are you to your brother exactly?” Sirius asked at practice the next day, and Kasey glanced over at him. Alex had filled him and Natalie on their conversation the night before, and Sirius’ newfound knowledge was not likely to lead to anything good.

Finn frowned. “He’s alright. Why, what’d he do?“

“Got married, the little fucker.”

Finn dropped the jersey he’d been holding. “What, he’s married? Since when?!”

“Did Nat finally propose?” James piped up.

“He’s not married to Nat,” Sirius said.

If possible, Finn looked even more confused. “He’s not married to Nat?”

“No he’s fucking married to Winters.”

Finn just gaped at Sirius. James looked positively delighted. “What- our Winter?” he asked. “Like, Kasey Winters... the Lions goalie?”

“Standing right here,” Kasey added. He fought a smile.

Finn glared at him. “Explain yourself right now.”

Kasey squirmed a little under the sudden attention, but he couldn’t fight a laugh. Of course this was how they were all going to find out.

He sighed. “Long story short, Alex and I got ridiculously drunk one night in Vegas and decided to get married for shits and giggles, and then we never did anything about it.”

“What the fuck.” Finn was the first to break the silence. “What the fuck what the fuck.” He grabbed his phone from his stall and opened it, aggressively tapping at the screen. “Alex!” he very nearly shouted into his phone. Kasey could hear his bright laughter through the phone. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t bug him, Finn,” Kasey tried, but the red-head would hear nothing of it.

“Alex O’Hara, you get your ass down here now,” Finn demanded into the phone, and then promptly hung up. Kasey just shook his head and went back to getting dressed. A few moments later, the locker room door squeaked open and Alex stood before the team, wearing his Winters jersey and fighting a smirk.

“Something wrong Finn?” he asked with feigned innocence.

“Yes, you little shit. Sirius said you’re married? To Kasey?”

Alex’s eyes danced. “It’s possible.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Prove it.”

“Finn how the fuck do you propose I do that?”

He jerked his head towards Kasey. “Kiss him.”

Alex frowned. “Dude, we’re literally together, you know this.”

But Finn’s jaw was set stubbornly, and Kasey knew that look never meant anything good. So Alex sighed good-naturedly and crossed the room to Kasey, stopping in front of him.

“Okay?” he asked quietly, meant only for Kasey’s ears. He nodded minutely.

Alex smiled softly, then leaned forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, one hand coming to rest on the small of Kasey’s back, the other cupping his cheek. After a moment he pulled away and looked expectantly back at Finn, staring at the two of them with a mixture of shock and approval.

“Satisfied?” Alex asked smugly, staying tucked against Kasey’s side. Kasey would never admit it, and certainly not in front of the team, but he rather enjoyed having Alex here, feeling his warmth even through the pads, knowing he’d later be watching the game and cheering him on.

“Fine,” Finn grumbled. “But I still can’t believe you kept that a secret.”

Conflicting emotions crossed Alex’s face, there and then gone, invisible unless one knew to look. Kasey knew the unintentional pain Finn’s words had on his brother, and knew Alex was far too polite to get into it with Finn right then.

“Talk to him later, baby,” Kasey whispered to Alex, hiding it by pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

Alex nodded, hiding the pain with a good-natured smile. But he stayed pressed against Kasey, and that told him all he needed to know.

“Hey Finn!” Alex called out, jogging down the hallway to catch his brother, leaving with Leo and Logan.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked distractedly, still glancing down at his phone.

“I need to borrow you for a moment.” Finn looked up at him, eyes narrowing, before murmuring something to his boys. They both nodded and kissed him before continuing on towards the exit.

“What’s up?” Finn asked, clicking his phone off and sliding it into his pocket.

“I um...” Alex trailed off, finding himself suddenly without words, despite thinking over what he wanted to say earlier. “Just wanted to talk.”

“If this is about before, you don’t have to worry about it,” Finn interrupted gently before Alex could continue. “It’s okay. I get why you kept it a secret.”

Alex released a breath and stared at his little brother. He felt like he was just now seeing him for the first time, and seeing the man he had become in the past few years. He’d never noticed before, the understanding and kindness behind Finn’s lighthearted gaze.

“How did you know?”

Finn shrugged. “You’re easy to read.”

When Alex got home, he found Natalie watching television on the couch, Kasey seemingly asleep on her lap. She smiled when he appeared in the doorway, beckoning him over silently.

“You talk to Finn?” she asked silently as he slid in on her other side. She let him lean into her, tossing the blanket over him as well.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Alex shrugged. “He was... surprisingly understanding about the whole thing. I didn’t even have to say anything. He just seemed to know.”

“Yeah, he’s like that sometimes,” Kasey mumbled, and Alex jumped a little.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Kasey didn’t bother sitting up, but he opened his eyes and looked blearily up at the two of them.

“Yeah. Was just resting.”

The three of them fell silent then, letting the comfortable silence settle over them.

“Hey Nat?” Alex broke the silence after a while.

“What’s up?”

“Were you serious about the whole marriage thing? Do you really want to get married at some point? Like, not married married. But, you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” she replied sincerely. “Maybe not yet. I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. But at some point.”

“I’d really like that,” Kasey said quietly.

“Me too.”

She smiled. “We should go to Vegas. Bring the whole thing full circle, y’know?”

Kasey huffed a laugh, “Whatever you want.”

#o'darwin #alex o'hara #finn o'hara #alex and finn being brothers #idiots in love #natalie being the amazing being she is #sirius being dramatic #marriage talk #kasey and alex being drunk fools #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove

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silhouetteofacedar · 4 years ago

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Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch.3: Jesus Is A Pisces

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder has forgotten Scully’s birthday every year but one. Actually, make that two now, since this year he’s determined to make the day special for her somehow. He’d asked her casually what her plans were, and she admitted that outside of a lunch with her mother and some church friends on Sunday the 22nd, she didn’t really have any intention to celebrate.

“It’s been a rough couple months,” she’d explained softly, and that’s all he needed to hear. She’d gained and then buried a daughter within a few days’ time over Christmas, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know how she managed to stay sane after that, and if he thought about it for too long the waves of powerlessness and guilt that rolled over him were debilitating.

So instead he focused on what he could do.

“You wanna do something after work on Monday? I promise to be as un-festive as possible,” he offered.

She looked uncertain, licked her lip. “Just us?” she asked.

“Just you and me,” Mulder assured her, the words giving him a tiny, shameful thrill.

She was quiet for a moment. “Sure,” she said finally.

Come Monday, February 23rd, it’s business as usual in the basement office. They finalize their reports from the previous week’s case, wrangle their receipts, argue over who broke the stapler (It was him, she insists; while he claims she jammed the staples in and made it impossible to use properly).

At three minutes to five o’clock, she clears her throat softly as she gathers her things, and he can feel her preparing to speak.

“Yeah, Scully?” he murmurs.

“We still on for tonight?” she asks, sounding almost cautious, and his heart fractures.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he confirms, leafing through a file. “Be sure to bundle up.” He looks up at her and gives her a reassuring grin.

She looks happy and… relieved? Huh.

“Well, I’ll see you then,” she says, shrugging on her coat as she leaves.

Mulder smiles at the door as it clicks shut behind her. He’s unusually giddy about what he has planned for the evening.

Over the weekend he had gone to the grocery store since his refrigerator was barren, then camped out in his building’s laundry room all day Sunday washing every blanket he owned. He even stopped at the little bakery around the corner from his apartment, purchasing a single chocolate cupcake and a loaf of rye bread.

After work he packs his car with a cooler, a duffel bag, a large thermos of coffee, and a pile of blankets.

He’s surprised to see that she’s waiting for him on the steps of her apartment, wearing a heavy jacket and thick turtleneck sweater.

“I got too hot wearing all this inside,” she explains, climbing into the passenger seat. She seems almost excited, and he strangely wants to cry. God, he’s so fucking glad he had the balls to invite her out again.

“Where are we going, Mulder?” Scully asks.

“It’s a surprise,” he replies.

Seven minutes and three wrong turns later, he reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out the map, handing it to her. “Rock Creek Park, please, Navigator,” he says.

“Aha! I thought the route we were taking seemed… circuitous,” Scully says with a smirk, unfolding the map.

“Just tell me where to go; I don’t need a running commentary,” he gripes, secretly relishing her needling.

In about twenty minutes, they arrive at the park’s nature center. Mulder pulls into the lot next to the field across the road and cuts the engine.

“We’re here?” Scully asks, looking around. “It’s deserted. Mulder, please don’t tell me we’re ghost hunting,”

“Ghosts? No,” he says, climbing out of the car and going around to the trunk. “Help me with some stuff?”

Scully comes around to the back of the car, where Mulder hands her the cooler and thermos. He slings the duffel bag over his shoulder and gathers up the pile of blankets. “Close the trunk, will you, Scully?” he says, walking towards the field. “My arms are full.”

They trudge out to the middle of the field, cold winter air biting their cheeks. Mulder stops abruptly and drops the blankets onto the ground in a heap.

“We’re here,” he announces, setting down the duffel bag. He picks up a heavy wool blanket and spreads it out on the grass.

Scully sits down on the blanket, cooler and thermos beside her. “What exactly are we doing out here, Mulder?” she asks.

“Well first, we eat,” he replies, reaching for the cooler. He opens it and pulls out two waxed-paper parcels, handing one to her. “Pastrami on rye,” he announces. “I went a little crazy with the mustard on one of them, we can trade if you want.”

“You made these?” she asks, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite. “Oh my god,” she groans. “Mulder, you’ve been holding out on me. This is delicious.”

The satisfaction in her voice makes him flush. “It’s pretty hard to mess up pastrami.”

“True,” she agrees, “but I was starting to doubt you could even make food. Your refrigerator is usually pretty sparse.”

Mulder shrugs, opening the thermos of coffee and pouring her a cup. “Cooking for one doesn’t hold much appeal,” he explains.

“Mm,” she agrees around a mouthful of sandwich, taking the proffered cup. “So Mulder, tell me; is there a reason we’re having a picnic in the dark?” She eyes the duffel bag beside him suspiciously.

“I’m glad you asked,” he replies, unzipping the bag and pulling out a tripod. “You know anything about constellations, Scully?”

It’s a rhetorical question, of course. He already knows.

“A thing or two,” she replies casually, clearly attempting to hide the smile sneaking across her mouth as she eats.

“Well that’s good, seeing as I lugged this telescope and a star map all the way out here,” he says, pulling the telescope case out of the bag.

Scully is enraptured, and Mulder thinks this might be the best thing he’s ever done for anyone.

“I haven’t done this in years,” she says, peering through the eyepiece as she adjusts the telescope’s position. “Not since…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to. He remembers her telling him once, on a long car ride to some anonymous, unremarkable town, about stargazing with her father when she was a child. Captain Ahab and his Starbuck, navigating the night skies by way of celestial markers.

The temperature’s dropping, and Mulder drapes the ratty tribal weave blanket from his couch around her shoulders as she searches the heavens.

“You want a turn?” she asks, drawing back from the telescope for a moment.

He shakes his head, plops down on the blanket and gazes at her instead.

They could be astronauts together, sailors of the stars. Dropping anchor in pools of the Milky Way, swimming through constellations and running their fingers through glittering strands of nebulae.

“I’m good,” he replies softly.

“Mulder?” Scully says from under a pile of blankets.

They’re lying on their backs now, side by side, eyes on the sky. Waiting for a meteor, or a passing satellite, or for God to wave hello.

“Yeah, Scully?”

“Do you give any credence to astrology, or is that too close to religion for you?”

“I appreciate its historical and cultural significance,” he replies. “Beyond that, I can’t say I have much of an opinion on it. Aren’t you a Pisces?” he asks, as though he doesn’t already know that she is, and that he’s a Libra, and that the shitty magazine he picked up in the dentist’s office says they’d be a tumultuous but passionate match. Not that he gives horoscopes any weight.

Passionate, though…

“I am. And I’m inclined to agree with you, though astrology’s link with early Christianity is fascinating. For example, did you know that Jesus is linked to Pisces? His birth coincides with the dawning of the astrological Age of Pisces, which spans from 1 AD to the year 2150. There are many scriptural references to fishermen, and early Christians used the fish symbol as a sign of their faith.”

“Huh,” he says, tucking a blanket more tightly around his shoulders.

“I don’t believe that the stars dictate my temperament, by the way,” Scully continues. “But there’s something beautiful about having a constellation in the sky that corresponds with your own birth. Missy knew more about this stuff,” she say wistfully. “She’d read me my horoscope every morning before school while we brushed our hair or whatever, in the bathroom where Mom couldn’t hear. It was fun,” she says with a sigh.

“Do you think she’s out there, in the stars?” Mulder asks and immediately regrets it. He didn’t mean the question to sound flippant.

Scully takes it in stride. “Is it crazy if I say maybe? There’s… there’s things I’ve seen and heard, Mulder, that I can’t explain. Who am I to say how God operates? Maybe He’s laid the stars out like a map for us to read. That’s probably wishful thinking, but life would be a hell of a lot simpler if everything was dictated by heavenly bodies.”

“Better that than by governing bodies,” Mulder agrees.

Their eyes drift along the razor-sharp curves of the crescent moon.

“My mom wants to set me up with one of her church friends’ sons,” Scully says without preamble.

“Huh,” Mulder replies, tracing Orion with his eyes. “Let me guess; he’s a dentist.”

“Emergency physician, actually,” she replies. “He’s nice.”

Mulder suddenly feels the weight of gravity pressing him down to earth. He can feel the rotation of the planet under his back, spinning him at a thousand miles an hour. “You’ve met him?” he asks.

“Yesterday, at lunch,” Scully replies. “He’s a widower, with a six-year-old daughter. I think… I think my mom thinks we could help each other.”

Mulder’s stomach churns, a facsimile of seasickness rolling through his body. “What do you think?” he asks, voice oddly hoarse. “Do you… agree with her?”

Scully pulls the blanket higher under her chin and sighs. “I don’t know, Mulder. I’m thirty-four today, and my career runs my life. I’m not sure how many chances at a family will come my way in the future. It’s not ideal, but maybe I’m past the point of getting to choose.” She pauses. “I’m sorry, I’m being fatalistic.”

Despite the near-freezing temperature, he’s got a cold sweat forming on his back. “You can always choose, Scully. As far as I see it. It’s-it’s important to me that you know that.”

She rolls onto her side, snaking a hand out of the blanket to prop herself up on her elbow beside him. “Mulder, I know you blame yourself for the things that have happened to me. But they’re not your fault.” He opens his mouth and she interrupts him before he can speak. “Don’t argue with me. It’s my birthday.”

He’s grateful for a change of subject. “That reminds me,” he says, sitting up and reaching over to open the cooler.

He pulls out a small pink bakery box and opens it to remove a single chocolate cupcake with a candle stuck in the middle. He digs a lighter out of his coat pocket and gives it a flick, igniting the candle.

“Happy birthday, Scully,” he says sheepishly, holding out the cupcake.

The single flame shimmers in her eyes as she takes the dessert. “Mulder,” she says softly, in a tone that makes his heart turn to liquid. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

“Just make a wish and blow the candle out before the wind does it for you,” he replies. There’s only a bit of a breeze but he’s not taking any chances. She deserves a wish.

Her eyes fall closed, and she sighs contentedly, no doubt formulating her request. Suddenly she opens her eyes and locks her gaze with his over the flickering candle, and Mulder feels a thousand words rumbling in him like an approaching avalanche.

Before he can say anything she purses her lips and extinguishes the lone flame with a breath.

She pulls the candle out of the cupcake and pops the end into her mouth, licking off chocolate frosting, and Mulder thinks he might die right there on a blanket in Rock Creek Park. He’s been so good, keeping his feelings to himself, but in this moment his only thoughts are that he loves her and wants her; no, needs her. He needs to touch her, taste the icing on her lips, map the constellations of freckles hiding beneath her sweater. Shake the winter chill out of his bones, letting the flames of her red hair lick across his skin and light his whole body on fire.

She’s saying something to him, biting into the cupcake, chocolate crumbs falling onto the blanket.

“Hm?” he asks, returning to terra firma.

“I asked if you wanted a bite,” she reiterates.

Yes, his body responds. Please please please-

“It’s yours,” he says as a declination.

“Therefore it’s mine to share,” she declares. She holds it out to him, and his stomach flutters as he leans in and takes a bite. He thinks of his parents’ faded wedding photos, of them feeding each other cake in black and white.

Don’t date the doctor guy, he pleads silently as he chews. Stay with me. Show me galaxies.

She falls asleep on the car ride home with one of his blankets tucked around her, the car’s heater cranked all the way up. When he parks in front of her building she stirs, likely awoken by the sudden cessation of warm air on her feet.

“Scully,” Mulder says softly, “We’re home.”

“Mmm,” she responds. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” he answers, glancing at his watch. “Can you walk or should I carry you up?” The question feels faintly suggestive, and he’s only being so bold because she’s drowsy and likely not registering the subtext.

“I can walk,” she says, sitting up and removing the blanket. Her hair is a fuzzy red halo in the glow of the streetlights.

“I’ll go with you,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Make sure you don’t pass out on your way up.”

“Thanks,” she yawns. “I don’t know why car rides make me so drowsy,” she says. “It’s like I’m five years old again.”

“Or it’s hypothermia,” Mulder suggests jokingly. “It got pretty damn cold out there.”

“Winter night picnics aren’t the most practical, it’s true,” she says. “But the blankets and coffee were a good idea.”

When they reach Scully’s apartment door she turns to face him. “Thank you for this,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

He smiles softly at her. “Happy birthday,” he replies.

He’s mentally debating giving her a hug when she reaches out and pulls him in gently, arms looped around his waist. He wraps his arms around her and drops a light kiss to the crown of her head.

It’s over way too soon.

“Goodnight,” she says. “See you tomorrow.”

If he says anything else to her before she slips into the apartment and closes the door, he doesn’t remember it. His feet are firmly on the ground, carrying him out of her apartment building and back to his car, but his head is far above the atmosphere, adrift in space.

He’s so in love he feels as though he’s running out of air.

#my fic #msr #txf fic #xfiles #fox mulder closet romantic #FMCR #I love this chapter okay fight me #Scully’s birthday #stargazing and shit

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viking-raider · 4 years ago

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The Immortal Sky - Part VII *Mature*

Summary: It’s a battle to survive and not everyone will make it.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 17,431

Rating: M - Dystopian!AU, Futuristic!AU, Language, Dark Themes: Severe Angst, Violence, Torture, Kidnapping, Traumatic Death, Blood, Life Threatening Injures, Severe Trauma, Life Changing Events, Hurt/Comfort, and a teeny bit of Fluff

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a futuristic fic!

Author’s Note: This is the final official Chapter of The Immortal Sky, I will be doing a short Epilogue to round things out though. I hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for all the love, comments and support! A super thanks to @wondersofdreaming for being a great support, listening to my crazy thoughts, giving me amazing suggestions and ideas, and just being an all around amazing friend!

You gasped, sitting up on your elbows, heart pounding and drenched in a cold sweat as the nightmare continued to dig its claws into your waking moments.

“Henry?” You called out, instinctively, before remembering he wasn't there.

Still.

Letting out a hard and shaky breath, you dropped back onto the mattress, damp from your sweat. You stared up at the ceiling, gripping the blankets in shaking fists as hot and furious tears dripped over your temples and into your hair.

“He isn't coming back.” You choked on your own snot. “They've captured and killed him, I just know it. He's died trying to protect me and there's nothing I can do to stop it. To make up for it, so his pain and death weren't in vain.” You took gasping breaths and only choked more on your tears. “I'm so sorry Henry. Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You wailed, crying without abandon.

You beat your fists on the mattress, outraged at your negativity and ease of giving up on him. Henry wouldn't have given up on you, he would have stayed strong and came for you, like he had when you ran away from him in London. Jerking up, you sat on the edge of the bed, the springs of the mattress creaking under your shifting weight.

“He's still alive.” You forced yourself to say out loud. “Henry is still alive, and I will find him.”

Resolved to this conviction, you stood up and dressed, pressing his shirt to your face and took a deep breath, inhaling his earthy and masculine scent, fortifying you, before slipping it on over your own shirt and finished tying your shoelaces. You weren't completely sure what to do or how to go about finding, and potentially saving, Henry. You weren't the amazing and seasoned High Marshal Henry was, is. You tried putting yourself in his shoes, hard as it was to fill size eleven boots. So, you started in the only place that made sense to you, the Black Bone pub, where your brother and his handler were known to frequent. So, locking your room, you trekked the six blocks from the hotel to the dingy pub, heart pounding in your throat as you entered.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked you as you approached the counter.

“Um,” You looked at the stained menu taped to the bar top. “A Virgin Mojito, please.”

The bartender lifted a brow at you, shrugged his shoulders and turned away from you. A minute later, he set the tall glass in front of you and held out his hand, wanting payment. Sighing, you dug out the meager change you had and slapped it into his hand, picked up your drink and took a seat in the corner, the same corner you occupied with Henry the day before.

You tried your best to look as inconspicuous as you possibly could, keeping your eyes on the tv, like Henry had, swirling your drink with the thin black straw inside of it and checking out everyone in the room from the corner of your vision. It was slightly more busy than it had been the morning before, but there was no sign of your brother, Knox or Henry. What your inexperienced eye failed to notice, was the bartender keeping his eye on you, for several minutes, before going to the back of the store room and making a phone call.

“Yeah, Ashe. It's me, Bruce, the owner of the Black Bone. You asked me to keep an eye out for a lady.” He rattled off your description. “Told me to call if I saw her around.”

“And?” Ashe replied, staring at the black, web-like, 3-D printed cast on the hand he busted in his fight with Henry.

“She's back.” Bruce told him, stepping out of the store room and peeking around the corner, to make sure you were still there, clearly ignoring your drink. “Sitting in a booth, right now.”

“Excellent.” Ashe grinned, wolfishly. “I'll be right over, let me know if she leaves.”

Bruce hung up with Ashe and moved back to serve his new customers, keeping his eye on you the whole time. You finally took a sip of your drink, the mint was refreshing to your taste-buds with the slight twinge of the lime's tartness, when the door of the pub chimed as it opened and from the corner of your eye you saw who entered, making your blood run cold, the man from the day before, who had given Henry the creeps and chased you both down the alleyway. Your hands shook as he glanced in your direction, a faint smirk on his thin lips, you noticed the cast on his arm and drew conclusions; knowing he and Henry must have gotten into a fight. Wishing you had the bartender put the rum into your drink after all, you gulped it down and tried to get up as casually and calmly as possible, eyes darting to the lopsided and hand written sign above the bathroom door and headed that direction.

The bathroom was big enough for a discolored and filthy toilet and a teeny window above that. Locking the bathroom door, you climbed top of the toilet, wobbling on the unstable tank to peek out the cloudy windowpane. There was another alleyway behind the pub, but you couldn't see where either end of it led out too, but you weren't going back out into the bar area with Ashe there, waiting to pounce on you. The window was wedged into the frame, sticking it into place from years of hard rains and freezing winters, swelling and warping the wood. Biting your lip, you started bashing it with the heel of your hand, the wood protesting and squeaking with each blow, until it suddenly flew open.

Glancing over your shoulder to the latched door as the dented handle started to rattle, you wasted no time, jumping and diving halfway through the window, legs flailing and kicking the dingy wall. Scrambling to get a footing and wiggle the rest of the way through the window, the rough wood scraping and cutting up your sides and ripping holes into your jacket. The bathroom door started to shake, a shoulder driving into it, you knew it wouldn't be long before Ashe busted through and hauled you out of the bathroom. Growling in frustration, you kicked hard at the wall, breaking through the crumbling drywall and used it to boost yourself up more. Punching more and more holes into the wall with your feet to you wiggle and shimmy through the window.

You gasped as your hips passed through the window frame and scrambled to get a footing on the other side, before you fell face first into a pile of two week old trash. You had just managed to flip yourself as you fell out of the window, landing on your butt on top of the overstuffed black plastic bags with a grunt. The eruption of Ashe charging through the bathroom door exploded above you, followed by his flurry of curses as his head popped through the window, the only thing small enough to fit through it.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared, pushing an arm through the window with his head to try and grab at you.

You struggled to your feet and stumbled away from Ashe and the window, out of breath and bleeding. Knowing he wasn't going to get through the window, Ashe jerked back inside and stormed out of the bathroom, shoving and knocking people aside as they came to see what all the commotion was about. Not waiting around for Ashe to reach you, you bolted down the alleyway, slipping on the slimy pavement and tripping over trash, just making it to the end, when two shadows blocked the way. Startled, you tried twisting around to run the other way, but they were faster than you were, grabbing the hood of your jacket and yanked you back, making you choke in the process.

“You ain't going anywhere.” One of them huffed as you were slammed chest first into the wall, scraping the side of your face on the rough surface.

Your arms were harshly yanked behind you and hands slipped through the loops of thick black cuffs, before your captor pressed a button on the handle connecting the cuffs and they automatically tightened around your wrists, painfully cutting off circulation and into your skin. They jerked you off the wall and faced you out of the alleyway, one of them clamped a hand down on your shoulder, making you whimper in pain and try to shrink away from him, only to be struck in the side.

“You should have stayed in London.” Ashe's angry voice growled as he approached the three of you, pinching your chin between his fingers. “Or just not have been born at all.” He hissed, letting go of your head with a jerk. “Get her in the van.” He ordered the two men, hitching a thumb over his shoulder, to the van parked at the curb, its back sliding door open and waiting.

You looked up and down the sidewalk as they pushed and shoved you towards the van, frantically hoping someone would see the four of you and rush to help you, stop them for kidnapping you. But, as you looked at the full street, you noticed everyone looking everywhere but at you, not wanting to get involved, knowing doing so would land them in the same hot water you were finding yourself in. But, to your utter shock, one face did look back at you, just as stunned to see you as you were to see them.

“Michail.” You mouthed, blinking like it was just a fragment of your frantic mind. “Mikey!” You screamed out, realizing it wasn't your mind toying with you, before you were thrown into the van and the door was slammed shut behind you.

“Let's go grab a pint.” Knox said, throwing on his jacket. “Come on, Keagan, one pint won't kill you. We have a load of time before your first big run.”

Michail sighed and rubbed at his face, his back ached from hunching over the map of his first run as an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. He had been staring at it non-stop for two weeks and the run was due to happen in three days. But, Knox was right, an hour's break to enjoy a frothy pint at the pub would do him and his brain some good. So, stiffly raising from his chair, he grabbed his own jacket and followed Knox to the lift and down the four floors to the ground floor and out onto the street. They chatted about the run as they walked down to the Black Bone, Knox's usual establishment for a good pint, hammering out more details and clearing up any misunderstanding about what was to go down, once it did happen.

But, they were interrupted by a small scuffle ahead of them, near the pub.

Looking away from each other and to the altercation, they saw three sizable men roughly handling a woman, her hands tied behind her back. Michail felt the breath in his lungs freeze and his heart drop out into his stomach as he met the woman's eye, watching her mouth his name, before yelling it out.

“Mikey!”

“Issy?” He whispered back, too stunned to manage anything louder before you were manhandled into the van.

“You know that woman, Mike?” Knox asked, his eyes panning between the speeding away van and him.

“She's my sister.” Mikey replied, his mouth hanging open, shocked and speechless to not only find you in Bristol, but being carted away by those ruffians. “But, she should be back in London.” He blinked, slowly regaining himself. “What the hell is she doing here in Bristol? Do you know who those guys were?” He asked, looking at Knox.

“Only one of them.” Knox replied, narrowing his eyes. “The blond is Ashe James, he works as a free agent, working several different jobs in every Sector.”

“Why would he take my sister like that?” Mikey asked himself, deeply troubled.

“We'll find out later, let's get that pint.” Knox answered, clasping Mikey on the back and pushed him towards the pub.

Henry spit nothing, but blood, as Emilio gave him another crack punch to the face; which was multicolored and inflamed. A cut high on the bridge of his bloody nose and upper lip, his bottom lip was split and bleeding as well, blood caked in his beard and curls, as well as his chest; soaking into the fabric of his jeans. His eyes burned from the unyielding and bright lights illuminating the room. He was spent and exhausted, leaning forward with his head lulling and eyes half rolled and swollen shut. A forest of marks and box cutter cuts littered his body, partiality around the surgical site of his artificial kidney. He was more than sure every one of his ribs were broken or cracked, making him wheeze and hiss with every breath he took.

Henry wasn't sure how much more of he could take, but that didn't mean he would break.

“I don't think you have much more blood in you, mate?” Emilio huffed, shaking his throbbing hand, his fingers puffy and bruised from hitting Henry so many times. “Usually, the people I—set straight—have given up by now. But, no. Not you, you're tough. I respect that.” He said, shrugging his sore shoulders.

“To a point.” He chuckled, slapping Henry in the back of the head, making him whimper. “Why don't you tell my boss where the girl is? Then, we can let you off. But, if you don't, you'll just end up dying here.”

Henry remained quiet, he had run out of witty and smart-ass comments hours before. So, he kept his mouth shut and reserved his energy and strength to withstand their assault on him. The one saving light was the thought of you safe and sound in your room. He knew, by now, you were freaking out and panicking. There were no clocks and only one mirror that Henry knew, without a doubt, was a two way, but he could catch a glimpse of Emilio's expensive watch. He had been in the room for nearly twelve hours, all night and most of the morning.

He sighed, grimacing as he swallowed another mouthful of blood that was pooling in his mouth from his bloody nose, cut lip and the cuts on the inside of his cheeks; his stomach cramped and twisted as he swallowed it down, adding to his discomfort. His mind started to wonder, his pain was beginning to numb his battered nerve-endings, he wondered how much longer he would survive, what blow would potentially kill him.

He counted each blow.

One.

Two.

Three.

The door came flying open and Benji waltzed in, the door slamming closed behind him, as he grinned and looked chipper after getting a good night's rest, having left not long after Henry's torture started. But, he seemed overly happy, too happy, for Henry to be comfortable with, he knew something. That's when Henry's fear finally spiked and his abused body tensed and his bloodshot, blue orbs widened with panic, showing that growing ounce of fear outwardly for the first time.

“Well, Mr. Cavill, I see that you are still alive!” Benji quipped with an amused smile, grabbing the back of Henry's sweaty and bloody curls, and jerked his head back, roughly. “I am quite impressed by your stamina. I bet the ladies love it.” He teased, lowering himself to meet Henry's gaze.

“I have a surprise for you, Henry.” He cooed, menacingly, his brown eyes darkening to a black hole of evil and danger. “I'm quite sure you'll be relieved to see it.” He said softly, running a finger over the freshly bleeding cut on Henry's brow, making him hiss as heavy beads of sweat mixed into it, then straightened up.

“Bring it in!” He yelled, moving away from Henry and turned towards the two way mirror.

The door swung open again, revealing Ashe, who pressed his back against it, to keep it open, and motion into the hall for someone to come forward. Henry's shoulders fell with his face, the last bit of his strength he had draining out of him as you were shoved into the room, stumbling and almost falling if Ashe hadn't grabbed the handle of your zip cuffs and steadied you.

Your mouth dropped open seeing the pitiful and terrifying condition Henry was in, covered in blood, bruises, cuts and god knows what else. You struggled to swallow down your throbbing heart and blinked back the searing tears that burned your eyes, biting hard into your lip to keep yourself from falling apart. Henry licked his split and chapped lips and blinked slowly at you, trying to keep himself together, but not to cry, but to not lose his temper, his muscles flexing as his anger flared and surged beneath his blue and purple, blood covered skin, straining in his restraints, like a bull seeing red.

“Two very different reactions.” Benji commented, watching the pair of you through the two-way mirror. “Interesting.” He hummed, turning on the heels of his expensive dress shoes. “I've been looking for you.” He said, stepping closer to you. “Thank you for making it so easy to find and get a hold of you.”

He smiled, touching the tip of his finger to your cheek and drew a smiley face on it.

In Henry's blood.

“Release her hands.” He ordered, snapping his fingers.

“Boss, is that a good idea?” Ashe asked, hesitating with the key to your cuffs. “She's pretty cunning.”

Benji's cool broke and slapped Ashe across the face, ripping the key out of his hand and releasing the cuffs from around your wrists. “I know what she is, you moron. But, what is she going to do? They're in my house, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of my men. Even if, they managed to get out of this room, they wouldn't make it out of the hall, before we either killed or incapacitated them. So,” He smirked at you, giving you a sour taste in your mouth.

“Let's leave them be.” He chuckled, making a motion with his hand and cleared the room, other than you and Henry.

You stood frozen for several moments, unable to move as you and Henry stared at each other, your silent tears finally escaping down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Henry.” You sniffled, gulping thickly.

Henry closed his eyes and sighed, groaning and gently shaking his head. He knew, he knew you had left the room to come look for him, the guilt and evidence of it was all over your face. “It's all right.” He finally replied, his voice dry and raspy. “I know you were scared.”

“I was worried.” You whimpered, slowly approaching him. “I still am.” You told him, dropping to your knees before him, looking over his battered body. “I'm sorry, Henry. I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me. Least of all, you.”

Your emotions started to overwhelm you, reaching out to gently cup his face in your shaking palms and pushed up on your toes to touch your forehead to his temple. Henry frowned and nudged your face with his, trying to give you what comfort he could, while still tied to the chair. Your wet cheek smeared more blood on the both of you, as you wrapped your arms loosely around his bare waist.

“I told you to wait for me.” He whispered, meeting your damp eyes.

“I tried.” You protested, pulling back from him. “But, I-” You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“I told you, I'd come back for you.”

“How?” You snapped, incredulous. “You're tied to a fucking chair and practically bleeding to death!”

Henry narrowed his eyes at you. “I'll be fine, I just needed more time. I've done this before.” He told you, shaking his head, then regretting it.

“That doesn't make me feel any better or convince me, Henry.” You replied with a huff. “How are we going to get out of here?” You asked, lowering your voice, sure they were eavesdropping.

“I'll think of something.” Henry answered, looking around the room, but there was very little to aid you in that endeavor. “Just stay strong for me.” He added, turning his face into yours, his chapped lips brushing your ear.

“Nugget.”

Benji stood in the room adjoined to the interrogation room you and Henry were held in, watching the two of you interact and talk, when a phone started to ring. Flexing his hands, Benji turned on his men, glaring each of them in the eyes until one of them shied away from his gaze.

“Answer it, Luis.” He hissed at the smaller man. “Now!” He roared, making everyone flinch.

Luis slipped a shaking hand into his pocket and pulled out his mobile, flipping it open and answering it. “Hello?” He squeaked, his voice high pitched with fright. “Um,--” He shuttered, eyes glued to Benji. “It's Monroe, Sir. He's asking about the girl, why she was nabbed this morning.” He explained, holding his phone out to Benji.

“Knox!” Benji roared into the receiver. “Why are you asking about the girl?” He demanded.

“My new Runner, they know each other.” Knox replied, cool as ice, he was used to Benji's outbursts. “We saw Ashe and the boys dragging her out of the Black Bone, she saw us too, and called out Keagan's name. When I asked how she knew him, he answered that she was his sister.”

“Her brother?” Benji said slowly, turning back to the mirror and staring at you as you huddled close to Henry. “Bring him to me, I want you here within the hour.”

“You got it, boss.” Knox replied, hanging up.

“The bubble of intrigue just keeps growing around this girl.” He said, studying you. “I love it.”

“I just got a call from headquarters.” Knox said as he approached Mikey at their table. “We need to go in, they're having a Runner meeting we need to attend to get the new details on our run in a couple days.” He explained.

“All right.” Mikey nodded, wiping the foam off his upper lip as he finished off his pint. “Are we going straight there?” He asked, standing up.

“Yep.” Knox nodded, clapping him on the back and directing him to the door, waving to the bartender as they left.

They hailed a cab to the Hernandez building, it was the tallest building in all of Bristol, showing the power, presence and money they had, running their empire of drugs and violence. The twenty minute ride there was quiet, and Knox almost felt bad for Mikey, knowing the kid had zero clue what was about to happen to him, but he wasn't sorry for the fact he was related to you, who could possibly bring down the business that kept him employed and out of the Slums.

“Mr. Hernandez is expecting us.” Knox told the receptionist at the front desk.

Nodding her head, the receptionist picked up her phone, dialed a number and waited for it to pick up. “Mr. Monroe to see you, sir.” She said, then hung up. “He'll meet you at lift number three.” She told Knox, then returned to her paperwork.

“Come on, Keagan.” Knox called, motioning Mikey to follow him.

Mikey followed him, unaware and naive to what was about to happen to him, to what was waiting for him, as the lift doors slid open and revealed Benji and Ashe. It was seeing Benji and Ashe that Mikey got a strange feeling in his stomach, but he ignored it, figuring it was just nervous jitters from meeting the most powerful man in Bristol.

“Knox.” Benji smiled at his prized Runner, then settled his cold eyes on Mikey. “Mr. Keagan, how nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much.”

“All good, I hope.” Mikey gulped.

“Of course.” Benji chuckled, motioning for the two men to step into the lift with them. “Let's go to my office to speak.” He suggested.

The ride in the lift was silent and stiff, no one speaking or moving, not even making eye contact for the several minutes the ride took, until the ding announced their arrival to the floor and the sleek metal doors slid open. Benji stepped off first, followed by Knox and Mikey, with Ashe bringing up the rear. They walked down a long hallway and Benji stopped beside a door, scanned a key card and pushed it open, motioning for Mikey to go in first, wanting to see his reaction as he entered.

Biting his lip, Mikey did as he was told, a nervous sweat breaking out on his brow as he moved into the dark room, noticing the wall length window to one side. He stopped in front of it, looking through the two way mirror and felt his jaw and heart hit the floor.

“Issy.” He gasped, seeing you pacing the bright room, then noticed the large and beaten male tied to the chair in the room as well.

His shoulders slumped as it all clicked in his head, he had been lied to too and was now as much a prisoner as you and Henry were. A cold sweat broke out all over his body and his hands started to shake, gulping several times to try and keep his composure.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked, eyes snapping to Benji as he watched Ashe lock and block the door, leaving Knox in the hallway.

“Who is that girl to you?” Benji asked, lightly tapping the glass of the mirror. “And answer truthfully.”

Mikey steeled himself. “I don't know.” He huffed, puffing out his chest.

Benji rolled his jaw and banged on the mirror, grabbing Emilio's attention. Smirking, Emilio pushed himself off the door he had been leaning against and strode over to you, startling you and making you stubble away from him.

“NO!” Henry and Mikey both screamed at the same time as Emilio grabbed you roughly by the hair, yanking your head backward and making you cry out as he shoved you closer to the mirror.

“Who is she to you?” Benji asked again, slowly.

“A friend.” Mikey whimpered, clenching his fists together as he felt and saw your pain.

Benji knocked on the window again. This time, Emilio twisted you around by the hair and slammed your back up against the mirror and wrapped his meaty hand around your slender neck. Henry jerked and squirmed in his chair, roaring with madness and cursing loudly as Emilio choked you, trying desperately to break free and pull him off of you, before it was too late.

“Stop!” Henry roared, letting his anger and frustration out in a violent scream. “Let her go! Do it to me!” He begged Emilio. “Let her be!”

Mikey doubled over, his hands braced on his thighs as he gasped for air, like a goldfish out of it's tank. “Please, stop this.” He begged Benji, in a wheeze.

Benji tilted his head as he watched Mikey, watching his distress as it mirrored your own. Curiously, he banged on the mirror again and Emilio, still choking you with one hand, drove the fist of his other into your stomach, making you yelp around his hand, incapable of more as you struggled for air. Mikey stumbled back into a shelf behind him, nearly losing his footing. Benji's fingers caught the underside of Mikey's chin and jerked his head back, thick strings of drool on his lips and chin.

“Tell me who she is to you?” He hissed in his face.

“Please.” Mikey begged him, weakly.

“Tell me, and I'll make him stop.” Benji told him, his face twisted with smug malice.

Mikey whimpered, hearing you struggling and Henry's desperate protests. “She's my sister.” He broke. “My twin sister.” He admitted, weakly.

“Your twin?” Benji echoed, intrigued. “So, you feel what she feels. Does she feel what you do, I wonder.” He let go of Mikey and knocked on the mirror twice, signaling Emilio to release you, which he did, causing you to collapse to the floor. “Ashe, go in there and tell me if she feels anything from him.” He ordered, keeping his eyes on Mikey.

Nodding, Ashe left the room and entered yours and Henry's, nodding at the mirror, so Benji knew he was in position. Smiling, Benji promptly drove his knee into Mikey's stomach and looked behind him and saw Ashe smirking and chuckling to himself.

“The connection between twins.” Benji laughed, amused to all ends. “I love it. Let's have a proper little family reunion, shall we!” He declared and motioned to Luis to grab Mikey. “Bring him.” He ordered, marching out of the room. “Good news everybody!” He declared, bursting into the room with you and Henry.

“It's family time!” He laughed, as Luis shoved Mikey into the room with the two of you.

“Mikey.” You coughed and rasped, holding your bruised neck.

“Issy.” He rasped back, crawling over to you. “Where have you been?” He asked, cupping your face in his shaking hands. “We thought you were dead.”

“I went looking for you, to try and patch things up with our parents, after the fight.” You explained, fresh tears dripping down your face. “But, I was caught by the Traffickers and was held by them. Henry,” You looked up at him, still straining in the chair, his blue eyes wild. “he saved me and I've been with him the whole time.”

Mikey blinked up at Henry, then narrowed his eyes at him. “Saved you?” He echoed your words, but not your sentiments and appreciation. “The only reason a person goes into a Trafficker's warehouse, if they're not merchandise, is to buy.” He hissed, his face darkening. “You bought my sister from a fucking Trafficker. Typical Upper, buying and enslaving us just because we were born in a lower Sector than you.”

“Mikey, it wasn't like that?” You panted, shaking your head at him, desperate for him to understand.

“How can you fucking defend him!” Mikey barked, gritting his teeth at you. “Unless he's already brainwashed you, convinced you that owning you didn't make you any different than him.”

“I don't own her.” Henry growled, low in his throat.

“Is that so!”

“It is!” You barked back, regaining yourself. “He never registered me for an Ownership Bracelet. Henry's never treated me like a Slave, or even a Slummer, for that matter. He's been good to me, Mikey.” You told him, cupping his tense neck in your hands and pressed your forehead to his. “He's been helping me to find you.” You whispered to him, holding his eyes.

“He's been protecting me.” You said quieter.

“I was originally meant to follow her until you were found, then bring you both back to London.” Henry added, his eyes on you. “So, she could testify against him.” He jerked his chin at Benji. “and to turn you in for your part in the Running business. But,” He paused and sighed. “But, I changed my mind and decided to just help her bring you back home, safely. Make up some story about why I didn't bring you in, then once she testified, I was going to release her to go back home to your family.” He explained.

Mikey opened his mouth to ask why a High Marshal would bother to do something like that, when he finally felt it, a warmth that came from you, and met your eyes and saw the cause of your warmth, towards Henry. You were in love with the High Marshal, and looking to Henry, he could tell that Henry felt just as strongly about you.

“I've been a complete brainless prick.” Mikey sighed, feeling guilty, if he hadn't decided to become a Runner, then none of this would have happened, the two of you and Henry would still be safe and sound in London, going about your lives as should be.

“I'm sorry, Issy.”

“Well, you're just a stupid boy, what do you know anyway.” You huffed, smiling softly and shrugging it off.

“Well, isn't this all well and sweet.” Benji huffed pushing off the wall.

“But, we all have an issue. The three of you are a threat to my business.” He said, folding his arms. “You, High Marshal, are on the case that threatens my business. You,” He looked at Mikey. “Being a Runner, know the routes and procedures of my business, and you,” He settled his eyes on you. “Are the witness to my operations and hold the key to ruining my business in London and putting away one of my best Traffickers.”

“I can't let you live.” He said, looking at the three of you. “So, we're going to play a fun little game.” He smirked, greedy and giddy, as he rubbed his hands together. “Luis, your gun.” He ordered, holding his hand out to the other man. “Ashe draw yours as well, and Emilio, why don't you untie Mr. Cavill over there, we do out number them with people and firearms, so I doubt either of them will be stupid enough to try something.” He said, motioning Emilio towards Henry.

Obeying, Emilio removed the key to Henry's bonds from his front pocket, while Ashe had his gun trained on him, anticipating any attempt Henry, you or Mikey might make to try and be a savior. Emilio unlocked the ties around Henry's chaffed ankles, then his wrists. Henry let out a relieved sigh as the strain and tension of his shoulders and arms released, almost slumping out of the chair.

“Henry!” You gasped, dashing forward to try and catch him.

“Ah, no!” Benji barked, stopping you in your tracks. “Leave him be.” He hissed at you. “Get up, Cavill.” He demanded of Henry. “Now, or I'll start putting holes in her!”

Groaning, Henry forced himself to stand, swaying on his throbbing and injured legs and almost falling, but caught himself on the back of the chair. Assured that Henry would be able to reasonably stand, then took the gun Luis was still holding out to him, Benji removed the clip from the firearm, checking how many rounds it had, reloaded the clip and cocked the slide, securing a bullet into the chamber.

“Take it.” He snapped, holding it out to you.

“No.” You whimpered, shaking your head and taking a step away from him.

“You either take it, or I kill all three of you now, starting with the High Marshal, then your dear brother and you last, so you can watch as your brother and the man you love, die.” He threatened, with an eerie calm.

Taking a shuddering breath, you stepped forward again and, with a shaky hand, took the heavy weapon from Benji's hand. You looked at Henry and Mikey with wide and frightened eyes, visibly shaking with terror. They both looked back at you with the same fright and worry.

“So, this is our game.” Benji grinned, licking his lips, like an evil serpent. “You get to choose who dies first, and get the honor of killing them.” He told you, grinning sinisterly.

“No.” You whimpered, slowly shaking your head. “No, I can't. Please, I can't.” You begged him, trembling, and staring down at the gun, like you expected it to swallow you.

“None of you are going to leave this room alive. So, you might as well put each other out of your own misery.” Benji tried to reason with you. “Do you want them to suffer because of your selfishness?”

“Don't listen to him.” Henry snapped, drawing your attention. “You don't need to do this, just give me the gun.” He told you, reaching out a hand to you.

“He's right, Issy. You don't.” Mikey agreed, holding his own hand out. “Just give it to one of us, we'll figure this out.”

Both Henry and Mikey knew why Benji had given you the gun. You would never have considered hurting anyone, with or without the firearm; unlike Henry and Mikey, who would.

Your eyes darted back and forth between them, unsure who to give it to. What would Henry do, if you were to give him the gun? Would he manage to kill Benji, Ashe, Luis and Emilio before they could do any real damage to the three of you? What about Mikey? Did your brother even know how to use a gun? What would he do once he had it? Should you even give it to them? What if one of them turned on the other, what if Henry turned on Mikey? He had originally been sent after you to bring you back to testify and take care of Mikey, because of his involvement with Benji and Bristol. Would Mikey try to kill Henry, because he was a High Marshal, maybe try to save face and show Benji he could be trusted, to save himself, and maybe you too.

You knew neither of them would turn on you or harm you in any way. You weren't afraid of them; you were afraid for them, and what they might do if they had the gun themselves.

It took all you had not to throw up, then and there. Everyone was staring at you waiting for your decision, but you couldn't decide, you wouldn't decide. You loved Henry and you loved your brother, you would rather kill yourself than one of them; and it was as if they sensed your mind go in that direction, for both Henry and Mikey jerked towards you, startling you.

“No!” Henry hissed, his eyes wide with panic. “Don't you dare.” He panted heavily, spots in his eyes as his advanced blood loss started to take its toll on him, on top of everything else going on. “Don't you dare turn that gun on yourself.” He whispered, half begging and half ordering you.

“Listen to him, Issy.” Mikey agreed, nodding his head. “Don't harm yourself. We can figure this out.” He said, eyeballing Benji over your shoulder.

Tears dripped down your face, like a waterfall after a heavy rain, it was too much, it was all too overwhelming for you to take. Mikey looked between you and Henry, he saw the absolute terror and worry in Henry's eyes, his pupils eating away the cobalt blue and speck of brown of his irises. Your own blown out pupils doing the same as you started back at him. It was something that Mikey wasn't used to. When things became scary and too much, it had always been him that you looked to in those moments, but this time, it was Henry you were seeking comfort and protection from.

“You fucking prick!” Mikey growled, trying to lung at Benji.

“Ah ah!” Benji barked back, grabbing Luis's wrist and forcing him to point his gun at you. “If either of you try and act a hero, Luis will kill her, out right.” He warned, meeting Mikey and Henry's eyes.

Biting his lip, Mikey took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, Benji had the three of you cornered. He was forcing you to kill one of the men you loved with your own life, while stopping Henry and Mikey from trying to save the day, by threatening to kill you, knowing they both would die to keep you safe.

What a twisted and poisonous web that was being weaved in the room. But, sooner or later, the strings of that web would start to snap and unravel, taking all of you with it.

Mikey took a hesitating step forward, his heart pounding and choked inside of his throat, his eyes daring between you, Benji and Luis. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, feeling the weight of the gun you held in that hand. The pounding pulse in your wrist drummed against Mikey's fingers, and he felt his own heart become attuned with yours. From the day the two of you came into the world, you several minutes before him, the pair of you were in sync, but as you grew older, you became less so. You had taken the right path, following the law, doing the job assigned to you, making the best of the life you had been dealt, without a complaint. While Mikey rebelled and became restless, wanting to be more, wanting the people he loved to be and have more than you already did, failing to see the wealth he already had, in you, your parents and little brother.

It was too late now to go back and fix those things, to see and cherish them properly, like Mikey now realized he should have.

The two of you synced together, heart beats the same steady, but pounding rate, breathing heavy and as one, flowing in a way that only twins could. You read his face, like it was the page of an open book and knew what he was doing. Your hand grasped the grip of the gun tighter, eyes widening and head softly shaking.

It's all right, Issy. His face and eyes said to you.

No. Your eyes begged back, blinded by collecting tears. Not like this. Don't do this. I can't live without you, Mikey.

You'll be fine, Sis.

He looked away from you, to Henry, who stood there, supporting himself on the back of the chair he had spent hours being tortured in. Henry looked back at Mikey, confused, just like everyone else in the room to what was transpiring between you, narrowing his eyes and frowning, shaking his head at Mikey, wanting to understand. But, Mikey looked back to you, squeezing your wrist and pressing his free hand to your chest.

You have the High Marshal to care for and protect you now. His eyes said to you. And he'll do a better job at it. He can give you the love, life and protection you need and deserve in life.

You shook your head at him, eyes screaming at him. Don't do this! What about our parents? Our little brother? What will I tell them? They will be crushed.

I'm no good and we both know this. Let me do this, and prove I still have some good left in me.

His hand slowly slipped down yours, gently prying your fingers from around the gun's grip, carefully taking it from you. Your hands shot out, gripping Mikey by the sleeves, one last plea for him to reconsider, to help you and Henry find a different plan and outcome, to give it a chance. But, he shook his head and took your arm in his free hand, leaned in to kiss your cheek, then gently shoved you in Henry's direction. Henry just managed to catch you before you stumbled over your feet, and himself from falling as well, blinking between you and Mikey, starting to realize what was going on.

“Mikey, n--” You started to scream as he raised the muzzle to his temple.

Henry's thick arms wrapped around you, somehow mustering the strength to hold you back as you struggled and thrashed in his embrace, trying desperately to stop what was about to happen.

A loud pop and a high pitched ringing filled your ears, muting out all other sounds that were being made, the sounds of your scream that you only knew was happening by how sore it made your throat, the warm spray of droplets against your face and neck, the world ending sight of your brother crumbling to the ground, the gun falling from his limp hand and slid across the blood covered floor, spinning under the chair at Henry's foot.

But, the chaos didn't stop there.

As Mikey hit the floor, Ashe came to life, using the distraction of Mikey's decision, to pull the gun out of his back waistband, smoothly flipping off the safety with his thumb, cocked and pointed it at Luis. All of it was in slow-motion, ears still screaming, as another pop filled the room, this time taking out Luis. Henry's body tensed up against yours as he watched Luis instinctively pull the trigger of his own weapon, the bullet whizzing towards you both. Henry wrapped his arms completely around you and threw you both down onto the floor; caging you in with his heavy and bloody body, using himself as a human shield as more muffled shots rang out.

You felt Henry's body jerk once against yours and the hot breath of him groaning against your neck, then a searing pain in your thigh, before the room went quiet and dark.

You started to come back around to the sound of Henry yelling your name, above the ringing that was still filling your ears and mind. You shook your throbbing head, feeling him pat your cheeks, trying to get you to open your eyes and respond to him.

“Can you hear me?” Henry asked, blinking down at you.

You blinked back up at him, only catching every other word he said. “A little bit.” You wheezed back, your thigh felt like an overfilled, hot water bottle as it throbbed.

“Good.” He nodded, then looked down the length of your body, just then noticing the slow puddle of blood pooling around your leg and cursed. “You've been hit.” He huffed, wrestling with his body's want to panic, but kept calm.

Spotting the tattered remains of his shirt, that Emilio had cut off, Henry grabbed it. “This is going to hurt, but, I need to control the bleeding before you lose too much.” He explained, carefully bringing your leg up, then wrapping the strip of his shirt around your thigh, just above the bullet wound, and tied it off as tightly as he could without causing any more complications.

You winced and whined as he did, gripping his bicep and digging your nails into his skin. “What happened?” You asked, out of breath, you couldn't see most of the room, Henry's body blocking your view, mostly on purpose.

“It seems, we have a friend.” Henry replied looking over his shoulder to Ashe. “We're going to get out of here.” He told you, fussing over your wound as a thin and steady stream of blood continued to flow from it, tightening his shirt more.

“We can't leave without--” You paused, remembering. “Oh god, Henry!” You gasped, it all rushed back to you.

“I know.” He frowned at you, crushed.

“We have to take him with us.”

“We can't.” Henry whispered, licking his cracked lips. “It'll slow us down.” He told you as carefully as he could. “I'll get him back for you. When we get back to London, I promise you.” He said, helping you sit up.

“Henry--” You sobbed, throwing your arms around his neck and buried your face into his sweaty and sticky chest.

“I know, love. I am so so sorry.” He whimpered in your ear, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed.

“We need to go.” Ashe's rushed voice came from the door. “Now, before the alarms go off.” He said, looking back into the hall.

He felt for you, he really did, never expecting all of this to happen, but now that it had, the three of you needed to put as many kilometers and as much time between you and Bristol as you could, because Benji's men would be coming after you in no time.

“Come on.” Henry grunted, pulling himself up to his feet and taking you with him, wrapping your arm around his neck, to support you out of the room.

Your breath caught in your throat as Henry helped you stand up, seeing Mikey's body laying there in a large pool of blood, but also Luis, Emilio and Benji's bodies as well. In the chaos of Mikey taking his own life to save you and Henry, Ashe had sprung, pulling his weapon and dispatching them in the confusion. Luis and Emilio let off several rounds from their own guns, one of them nicking Henry in the side and another going through your thigh.

“Is he on our side?” You wheezed, as you and Henry followed him down the hall.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded, shifting you against his side as you started to slip. “He's a Alpha Marshal, from London.” He explained to your questioning brow lift

“How did you not know that?” You asked him, frowning, you figured since Henry was a High Marshal, he would know all of the other Marshals.

“He finished Marshal training four years before I went in, and was recruited straight out of it to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and climb the ladder as far as he could. Seems he got as high as being Benji Hernandez's personal enforcer.” He explained, stopping as Ashe secured the hallway around the corner.

“Which is damn lucky for the two of you.” Ashe commented, coming back. “The way is clear, there's a back service lift that goes down to the garage. I have a car there we can use to get the fuck out of Bristol.”

“Let's go.” Henry nodded, antsy.

You looked back down the hall, to the still open door to the room that held all that carnage, and shuttered. Henry looked at you, feeling the shiver and frowned, reaching up to brush your hair out of your sweaty and bloody face. He couldn't understand the level of pain and anguish you must be in, after watching your brother commit suicide to save you. But, he knew that Mikey would want him to protect you and get you the hell out of there, with or without his body, and that's what Henry planned on doing.

“You can do this.” He whispered to you, blood crusted fingertips brushing your cheek. “He would want you too.” He added even softer.

“I know.” You gulped down tears, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “Let's go, before I lose my nerve.” You said, looking away from the door.

Nodding his head, you and Henry supported each other down the hall to the lift, leaning against the wall as it went down to the dark underground garage. Finding Ashe's car, he unlocked it and helped you and Henry get inside, before rushing around to the driver's side, tearing out of the garage and onto the street.

“Here.” You sighed and removed your torn and filthy jacket, revealing Henry's shirt beneath it, and took it off, seeing Henry's shiver.

“Thanks.” Henry whimpered, carefully pulling the shirt on his sore and battered torso. “How are we getting out of here, Ashe?”

“There's a gate out of this Sector that most of Benji's top men use for dealing with business outside of Bristol. I know the guard that works it, he'll let us through and keep his mouth shut.” Ashe explained, keeping his eyes on the road. “From there, I'll drop you both off at the drop location I use for sending my information into London.”

“What Sector is that in?” Henry asked, checking your makeshift tourniquet.

“Three.” Ashe replied, slowing his car down as they approached the gate he spoke about. “Let me do the talking.” He said over his shoulder, rolling his window down as a stocky male with a semi-automatic weapon approached the driver's side.

“James, it's been awhile. How have you been?” He asked, staring through the open driver's window.

“Been all right.” Ashe replied casually, as if nothing was amiss, like the two bleeding people in his backseat. “I need to run an errand outside the city, if you don't mind opening the gate and letting me through.”

“Sure thing.” the guard replied, chipper and oblivious to you and Henry, unable to see through the black tinted windows.

Stepping away from Ashe's car, the guard moved into a small booth beside the gate, turning a key and held down a large red button. The large and scuffed up gate groaned to life, screeching and protesting as it slid out of the way, revealing barren land and an uneven road on the other side. Waving back as the guard waved Ashe through the gate, he drove through, letting out a relieved breath as the gate closed behind you, everything so far going smooth.

“It's a two and half hour drive to your drop off location.” Ashe said, breaking the silence.

“That's fine.” Henry replied. “It took us nearly a week to walk here.” He added with a huff, that felt like a year ago at this point.

“What about you?” You asked Ashe. “What will you do now? Will you not come into London with us?” You inquired, interested, since his life and the long years he spent undercover in Bristol was now blown apart because of you, Henry and Mikey.

“I'm not originally from London.” Ashe replied, stiffly. “I'm from Chester. My father was killed in an accident and my mother couldn't take care of me. So, she had a smuggler bring me to London where I have a wealthy aunt. She took me in, adopted me and raised me as her own son, enabling me to have a better life. With her connections, I was able to attend the Marshal Council Academy, graduated top of my class and was recruited directly out of training to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and the Hernandez family. I've been there ever since, running and doing whatever job Benji and his family tell me too, while sending the information back to London and half of the money I make back to my mum in Chester.”

“I've wanted to return to Chester for a long time, I haven't seen my mother, in person, since I was eight. So, I plan to go back there, after I drop the two of you off.”

“Won't they go looking for you there?” You asked, concerned for him, you had dragged so many people into this mess.

“No, as far as they know, all my family is dead.” He answered, glancing at you in the rear-view mirror. “My backstory was I was orphaned as a baby and raised on the streets of London, where I got in with Runners and came to Bristol to be more big time. So, I don't know who my parents are, let alone, know if I have any other family or where.”

“And they believed that?”

“For more than a decade.” Ashe chuckled, smiling at you.

The rest of the drive was quiet, you and Henry huddled together in the backseat, Henry's heavy head resting on your shoulder. His eyes were closed, but he didn't find any sleep, still too worked up to find it with the state you both were in. You rested your cheek on the top of his head and closed your own eyes, your head still throbbed and your leg was on fire, but had stopped bleeding so much. Both of you were worn, spent and weak, desperately needing proper medical attention and rest after everything that had happened.

“Henry?” You whispered softly into his messy curls.

“Hm?” He hummed back.

“What are we going to say, when we get back to London?” You asked him, biting your lip.

Henry sighed, picking up his head as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed his lips to your temple. That had been brewing in his mind for the last hour, trying to figure out how to explain all your injuries and absence to everyone that asked. The only person that truly knew the nature of your and Henry's disappearance was Reyes, and he didn't know what Reyes would do when the pair of you showed back up in London in the sorry state you were in, and without Mikey.

“We'll cross that road, when we get there, love.” He finally replied, kissing your temple again.

You crossed that road an hour and a half later, when Ashe pulled up to a door that had been built into the wall of Sector Three. He helped you and Henry out of the car and approached the door with you, pointing out an intercom box beside the door.

“The code is 8391, it'll ring whoever is working the door today, they'll come down and ask for credentials, tell them you're a High Marshal and you'll get all the assistance you need.” He explained to you, heading back towards his car.

“Ashe!” Henry called after him, before he could get into the car and leave. “Thank you.” He said, when Ashe turned back.

“We're Marshals, we're trained to look out for each other.” Ashe replied, nodding his head to you both and got into his car.

Henry waited until Ashe's car disappeared from sight, before limping up to the door and pressed in the code Ashe had given you. A buzzer went off and five minutes later, the door opened, revealing a Beta Marshal, who frowned between you and Henry.

“High Marshal Henry Cavill.” Henry told him, as the Beta Marshal started to open his mouth. “We require aid and you need to get a call into Supreme Commander, Dylan Reyes.” He said, grabbing your hand and pushing through the door.

“Now, Beta Marshal, before we finish bleeding to death.” Henry hissed at him, annoyed and impatient.

“Of course, sir.” the Beta Marshal squeaked, saluting Henry and showing you both to his service car. “Supreme Commander Reyes, this is Beta Marshal Grant, down at the Security Door. I have a High Marshal here, wishing to speak with you.” the Beta Marshal explained, as his call to Dylan connected over the car's speakers.

“Who would that be, Grant?” Dylan's voice asked back.

“It's me, Dylan.” Henry huffed, slumping in the seat.

“Henry!” Reyes's voice snapped in surprise. “You're alive!”

“For the time being.” Henry sighed, rubbing at his face.

“Do you have the girl and her brother?” He asked, sounding desperate and frantic.

“I have her, but not her brother.” Henry explained, glancing at you. “It's a very long story. But, right now, we both need medical attention. She's been shot in the leg and bleeding heavily and I've spent the last thirteen hours being tortured.” He revealed to his boss.

“Grant, get them both to the Marshal Council Hospital right this second and make sure they don't spare any medical intervention and assistance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Supreme Commander.” Grant replied, with a hard nod of his head as he started his car and directed it towards the Marshal Council Hospital, in Sector One.

“I'll be there promptly.” Reyes replied, clearly rushing out of his office for the parking garage.

So much of the tension went out of you and Henry, you were finally back in the protective and safe walls of London, no more worry about people trying to find and kill you, no more filthy and bare essential hotel rooms and days of endless walking. You were home and free, and with Henry. Now, you both just needed to get looked over and have your injuries treated, then you could go back to the comfort of your own flat.

You and Henry were rushed into the hospital, dozens of doctors and nurses swarming you both, poking this and pulling on that, asking a barrage of questions too fast for either of you to answer properly. The leg of your leggings was cut all the way to your hip as they removed Henry's ripped and blood soaked shirt to examine your gunshot wound. You screamed in pain as they pushed around it, and apologized profusely for it, and became more gentle about touching it.

“Good news is, it went through, relatively clean.” The doctor explained to you, standing beside your bed.

“The bad?” You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried preparing for it.

“The bullet nicked your great saphenous vein, it's the longest vein in the human body, running the entire length of the leg; which is what's causing a lot of your bleeding. ”

“Am..” You gulped down a hot lump of vomit trying to surge up your throat. “Am I going to lose my leg?” You asked, frightened beyond belief and wished Henry was in the same room as you, but they had separated the two of you after coming in with Beta Marshal Grant.

“No.” The doctor chuckled at you, shaking his head. “We have a procedure that will stop the bleeding and help the wound heal in no time. But, I must warn you, it is rather painful.”

“As long as I don't lose my leg, I don't care.” You told him.

You had already lost too much.

“Excellent, I'll have the nurse bring in the instruments and we'll get down to treating you.” He smiled at you, sweetly, trying to be supportive and calming. “Do you have any questions, before we get started?”

“Yes, how's Henry—the High Marshal.” You asked, correcting yourself.

“High Marshal Cavill has lost a good amount of blood.” He told you, his brow creasing with his concern. “We gave him a blood transfusion and an army load of fluids, while we treated his wounds. He has broken and cracked ribs and sternum, a broken nose, a severe concussion and very deep cuts on various parts of his body.” He explained to you, as gently as he could.

“But, he will make a full recovery. He's a tough young man, and has the best medical care London has.”

“Good.” You sigh, relieved.

The doctor smiled at you, gently resting his hand on your shoulder before leaving the room to prepare your treatment. A nurse came in a moment later, pushing a cloth covered cart, then put an IV port into your arm and hung up a bag of fluids, antibiotics and blood; since you had lost so much blood from your bullet wound. You hissed as she gingerly rotated your leg and slipped a triangular shaped pillow under your bent knee, an oval notch cut in the top of it for your knee to rest comfortable and securely, while they treated you.

She removed the cloth from the metal cart she brought in with her, and you saw what looked like a short caulking gun, a tube with a fat nozzle and two packaged patches. Picking up one of the patches, she ripped it open and dipped it in a small bowl of solution, the patch absorbed some of the liquid solution and became almost rubbery and gel-like. She moved around to your stabilized leg and gently pressed the ice cold patch to the bruised and puckered hole on the inside of your thigh, where the bullet exited, more than halfway up. You hissed as the cold gel patch touched the heated and angry skin of your thigh, whatever the solution she dipped it in stung and burned like liquid fire as it covered your wound, adhering to your skin with a firm hold.

“This will keep your wound protected, clean and sterile. It has antibodies that will recognize any infections or foreign matter and attack it, preventing your wound from going bad.” She explained to you, pressing her palm to it and held it there with firm pressure.

“And that?” You asked as she let go of the patch and picked up the caulking gun-like device and slotted the tub into it.

“This is Nanite Gel. It has antibodies in it, as well as stem cells and biological Nantes, that will start working to repair the severed muscle, skin, tendons, nerve endings and tissue inside your leg; closing the wound right up.” She replied. “The doctor will insert the nozzle into your wound and slowly draw it out, while filling it with the Gel. The patch also works as a barrier, since the projectile went through one side and out the other, preventing the Nanite Gel from squirting and leaking out.” She described to you.

“Fantastic.” You replied, with a nervous sarcasm.

You gulped with anticipation as the doctor came back in, with an additional nurse, and pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He smiled at you, took his position beside your leg, and took the injector from the first nurse. The second nurse grabbed your ankle and the top of your knee, pinning your leg down as the doctor lined up the tip of the nozzle with your uncovered and slightly bloody wound.

“Deep breath.” The doctor instructed you, taking a deep breath with you. “Ready?” He asked as the first nurse carefully dabbed at the blood with a wad of gauze at the end of a clamp, keeping your wound clean, so the doctor had an easy time guiding the nozzle in, which was easily bigger than your actual wound.

“More than I ever will be.” You replied, bracing yourself.

Nodding his head, the doctor pressed the nozzle to the opening of your wound and started to push it inside. You tensed and jerked, screaming again, but the second nurse had an iron grip on your leg, keeping it still as the doctor continued to push inside. You had strobing spots in your eyes and your jaw was so tight it felt like your teeth were going to shatter at any second. The doctor barked at the first nurse to give you twelve micrograms of Fentanyl for your pain, and she scurried out of your room and came running back a minute later with a IV syringe full of the opioid, pushing it directly into the tube of your IV. Within a couple of seconds, the painkiller washed over your whole body, like a hot comforter out of the dryer, and allowed you to relax, going slack on the bed.

“Good.” The doctor nodded, seeing and feeling you relax and finished pushing the nozzle the rest of the way in.

Shifting his hand, the doctor pressed down on the trigger of the injector and slowly drew it out again, filling the tunnel the bullet made with the blue-ish gel. You didn't feel the pain of it, but you felt the pressure in your leg. Your eyes were heavy, glazed over and half lidded, you felt absolutely nothing and you were so sluggish from the opioid that you couldn't even form words to think, it felt nice after all the trauma and hardship you had gone through in the last week.

So, you let it take you, pulling you under the crashing waves of exhaustion, pain and the high of the painkiller, your body going totally limp. It alarmed the doctor and nurses for a moment, fearing you had blacked out. But, once they checked you out and determined you had simply fallen asleep, they relaxed and finished tending to your wound, filling it with the gel, then covering it with another patch, like the other one, and lightly wrapped it with a bandage.

They left you to rest, closing the blinds over the window and turned down the lights, before softly closing the door behind them.

“How is she?” Henry asked Reyes as he came into Henry's room; he had heard your screams of pain from his room, across the hall.

“She's doing fine.” Reyes assured him, patting him on the shoulder. “They treated her gunshot wound with Nanite Gel, gave her some strong pain medication and she's asleep now.”

“Good.” Henry nodded, relieved, but still wanted to see you, to be by your side.

“So, what the hell happened?” Reyes asked, pulling up a chair next Henry's bedside.

Henry started to heave a sigh, but stopped, clutching his rib-cage with an arm as his ribs screamed. “I chased after her, like I said I would. It took me nearly three days to finally catch up to her. She's crafty, in a good way. She'd make a great Marshal.” He chuckled, carefully. “I was going to bring her straight back to London to testify. But, she was dead set on finding her brother, so I went with her, figuring I'd kill two birds with one stone.”

“Get her back to London to testify and have her brother prosecuted.” Reyes nodded, understanding.

“Well, when we got there, we had no clue on how to find him.” Henry continued on, staring out his room window. “I recalled that a Beta Marshal that had been banished to Bristol for dealings with Runners and Crime Bosses. Ramsey Kellan. We found him in Sector Fifteen and he gave us the information we needed.” He rubbed the side of his face, he really wished he could just take a nap, but continued to fill Reyes in.

“Somewhere along that time frame, we were outed as being in Bristol, and looking for her brother.”

“Over a decade as an undercover, and your first blown cover happens with the girl.” Reyes laughed, greatly amused.

“Yeah.” Henry frowned, not finding it funny, if his cover with you hadn't been blown, so much of this wouldn't have happened. “As I said, our cover got blown in a pub in Sector Three of Bristol. Benji Hernandez sent his best guy to track us down there. I was able to get us out of the pub and down an alleyway, where I boosted her over a wall, to keep her safe, and faced the guy. We fought, he tazed the fuck out of me, and the next thing I knew, I'm waking up in a bright room, cuffed hand and foot to a chair.”

“They tried beating and reasoning me into telling where she was, but I refused.”

“Where was she, when this was going on?”

“The hotel room we got before going to the pub.” Henry replied with a sigh.

“But, she was clearly found.” Reyes pointed out. “How?”

“I told her I would return in an hour. When I hadn't returned by morning, she got worried and decided to try and find me. Which ended up with Benji's men, who had been keeping an eye out for her, capturing her and bringing her in.”

“And the brother?” Reyes pushed, leaning forward, his elbows pressed to his thighs.

“They saw each other as she was being thrown in a van to be taken to Benji. His handler, Knox Monroe, had found out that they were siblings and outed him, and he ended up in the room with us.” Henry replied, gingerly shifting to find a more comfortable position.

“So, where is Keagan?”

“Dead.” Henry replied, bluntly. “Benji gave her a gun and forced her to decide which one of us would die first.”

“She killed her own brother?” Reyes asked, stunned and gobsmacked.

“No.” Henry shook his head, the image still burned in his mind. “She couldn't do it. She wouldn't choose either of us, she almost turned it on herself. Before, Michail managed to take the gun from her.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the image out his mind, the sound of your screams as you were forced to watch.

“He took his own life, so she didn't have to choose.”

“And Hernandez allowed the pair of you to leave afterwards?”

“No, I'm sure he would have forced either her or I to kill the other, then kill the last one himself.” Henry answered, opening his eyes again.

“Then, how did the two of you make it out?” Reyes asked, tilting his head at Henry.

Henry looked at Reyes. “Do you know Alpha Marshal Ashe James?” He asked, his eyes scrutinizing his boss.

“I do.” Reyes nodded back, his brows drawing together. “My predecessor, Eric Banner, told me, when I took over his position, when he retired, that he had a man on the inside of Bristol and to expect his reports regularly.”

“He was the one that saved our asses.” Henry explained with a sigh. “He was the one that stunned me in the alleyway. When Mikey killed himself, Ashe took the opportunity to pull his weapon and dispatched Benji and his men.”

Reyes blinked at Henry. “Are you telling me that Hernandez is dead?”

“I am. Unless, there's some way Nanite Gel can repair a hole in the brain.” He replied, with slight sarcasm. “Which I know there's not. So, he's now out of the way.”

“This is great.” Reyes grinned at Henry. “That'll be a massive blow to the Hernandez family, their operations and Bristol. Especially, when she's healthy enough to testify against Twist and his trafficking business.”

“It will be.” Henry agreed, but the only thing he was concerned with was the two of you getting well again. “I'm guessing, they'll be postponing the trial for a few weeks.”

“I still have to call the Cleric and Royal Councils and report everything that's gone down. But, I'm sure they'll delay the trial, for at least, a month.”

“Good, I want to take care of her first.” Henry added, nodding and relieved.

Reyes frowned at Henry and leaned back in his chair. “What is it between the two of you?” He asked, he had the suspicious feeling in his gut about the two of you for a while, but had only just had the time and place to ask.

Henry's cheeks warmed slightly and glanced away from Reyes, making his boss laugh out loud, seeing it in Henry's body language.

“You're in love with her.” He blurted out, tickled at the notion. “The great Upper, Henry Cavill, is in love with a Slummer, that's meant to be his Servant and Slave.”

“She's not my Slave! And, don't fucking call her a Slummer, either.” Henry roared, huffing angrily through his nose, like a bull about to charge. “I never registered her, and I never will register her, either.”

“Oh, I know you never registered her for an Ownership Bracelet, Henry.” Dylan continued to chuckle at his friend. “I checked and I got a copy of the paperwork you both filled out for her Life Pin.”

“And, you didn't say anything?” Henry asked, surprised.

“Not my business what you do with your private life, Hank.” He replied with a sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But, you pressed me into buying her.” He hissed back, eyes wide.

“I did.” Reyes nodded, pressing his lips together. “We needed the paperwork, a trail to link Twist to trafficking, and to Benji. What you did, or didn't, do with her outside of that, was purely on you, and her.” He confessed, running a hand through his short black hair.

“I was also hoping you'd find a lover or mate.” He added, clearing his throat.

“You were what?” Henry barked, taken aback.

“I should let you rest.” Dylan sighed, getting up, then carefully rested his hand on Henry's shoulder. “It's good to have you back, and alive. You did good, taking care of her and everything else. Take all the time you need to recover, the Council will be here, when you're ready to get back into it.”

“Thanks, Dylan.” Henry replied, giving him a respectful nod of his head, still brewing on what he said.

“Do you want me to call your family?” Reyes asked as he stopped at Henry's door.

“No, I'll call them, when I'm ready.” He shook his head, feeling that new wave of stress hit him. “Last time you called them about me being in the hospital, I almost died, and ended up needing a kidney replacement.”

“Fair enough.” Reyes laughed, and saw himself out.

A day later, Henry slowly limped into your hospital room, across the hall from his, and found you sitting up in bed, eyes glued to the tv and eating a jell-o cup. Your eyes shot over to Henry as he came in, setting your cup down and turned off the tv, relieved to finally see him. The two of you had only been given random updates on each other through your shared nurse, who also, gratefully, passed messages between you as well.

“Henry, should you be out of bed?” You asked as he stopped at your bedside.

“Well, I wasn't the one shot in the leg.” He chuckled and grinned at you, before leaning in to kiss you. “I just had to see you for myself.” He confessed, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek.

“How are you feeling?”

You took a deep breath, tilting your head into his hand. “Like I got shot in the leg.” You chuckled back at him.

“Other than that, Nugget.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I feel fine. Sore, but fine.” You assured him with a nod. “How about you, Puppy?” You asked, looking him over in his hospital gown, a warm and playful smile spreading across your lips.

“Same. Sore and ready to go home.” He smiled back, his stomach full of butterflies.

“I'm ready to go home too.” You concurred with him, sighing at the thought.

The butterflies in Henry's stomach wilted and died, a nauseous, heart-shaped lump forming in his tight throat, hearing you wanted to go home. His shoulders dropped, trying to get a hold on his heartbreak, before you saw it and had your mood ruined.

“You know what I've missed about it?” You asked, looking up at him, just as he managed to hide his disappointment.

“What?” He replied, pained.

“Kal.” You chuckled at him, oblivious, until you saw his shocked face. “What? You think I would miss you, when we've been together practically the whole time?” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“No.” Henry squeaked, confused and relieved at the same time. “I just thought..” He paused, looking away from you.

“You just what, Hen?” You frowned at him, seeing his face and became worried. “Henry, sit down.” You ordered him, becoming concerned for him as you put down the arm rail, so he could sit on the edge of the bed with you.

“Tell me.” You whispered, gingerly wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I thought you were talking about going back to your family's home.” He whispered, faintly. “When you said you were ready to go back home, and that you missed them.”

“Well, I do miss them, Henry.” You told him, pressing your cheek to his bruised and nicked shoulder. “I would love to see them again. But, I wanna stay with you.” You whispered, looking up at him.

“Unless, you don't want me too?”

“I do want you too.” He replied, quickly. “I love you and I want to be with you. I want you to come home and stay with me.” He confessed to you, nosing the hair at the top of your head. “And, Kal.” He added, softly.

“Your place has become more of a home to me, than my parents' place has ever been.” You told him, honestly.

You had grown a lot in the time you shared with Henry, and a lot had also changed you. You didn't get kidnapped in your own city, imprisoned in a pitch black and freezing cold cell, either not fed or fed food crawling with unmentionables, cut off from most contact with people, other than the traffickers that had put you there, when they dragged you out for another line up for another snobbish, stuck up and entitled Upper, or to beat you into submission, without something changing you.

You still had nightmares about being in that cell.

You also changed from all the things Henry exposed you too. New foods, tv shows and the luxury of being in the upper Sectors of London, like taking you to that Royal Dinner party with his family. Henry had taken the mostly naive and sheltered Slummer and opened the world up to you. You would always appreciate and love him for that, and for taking care of you and protecting you through the long months after saving you from Twist.

Henry and Kal had become your new home, and the three of you had made a new family.

“I love you, Henry Cavill, and nothing will ever stop or prevent that.” You told him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

“So, you'll come back home with me?” He asked, looking down at you, hopeful.

“I don't want to be anywhere else.” You replied, smiling back at him.

Henry's face broke out into a smile and cupped your face in his hands. “Neither do I.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours and kissed you.

“Henry!” A frantic voice came from across the hall.

“Mum!” Henry called back, breaking away from you. “Mum, over here.” He yelled out, limping to your room door as his mother rushed out of his empty room.

“Oh, thank god, Henry!” She cried, rushing him and throwing her arms around him.

“Easy, Mum.” He winced, but hugged her back. “How did you know I was here?” He asked, he hadn't gotten around to calling her and his family yet.

“A report came across my desk about you being injured in the line of duty with a Slummer, and that you were still recuperating here in the hospital. I was afraid it was serious, when you hadn't called me to tell me you were all right.” Marianne explained, shaking her head at her son. “What were you doing with some Slummer that caused you to get so hurt?” She demanded, upset.

“I hope they get the punishment they deserve for getting you into such danger.”

“Mum.” Henry snapped eyes wide and looked back at you.

Marianne blinked and looked into your room, seeing your sheepish and hurt expression, then looked up at Henry. “She's a Slummer?” She asked him, surprised, as she recognized you.

Henry took a deep breath, biting his lip. “We need to talk.” He said, stepping aside, so Marianne could enter your room and followed her, closing the door behind him.

“What's going on?” She asked, taking a seat as Henry sat back down on the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his.

“Several months ago, I was undercover in Sector Thirty-One. I was tasked with infiltrating a trafficking warehouse run by one of Benji Hernandez's men. I did so, with my usual skill and process, but after finally getting an appointment with the guy and seeing the people that had been imprisoned there, Dylan told me I had to—make a purchase—to nail the traffickers and for them to get properly arrested and prosecuted by the Councils.” He explained to her.

“One of the people they had kidnapped and had for sale, was her.” He said and looked at you, giving you a soft and loving smile. “So, I purchased her, and was meant to take care of her, until the trial happened and she testified.”

“So, you bought a Slum-”

“Don't call her that.” Henry hissed, angrily, but recalled himself. “Don't call her that.” He repeated, calmer.

Marianne took a deep breath, glaring at her son. “So, you bought her, in a sting operation, took her home and acted like none of this happened, taking her to events and other functions.” She summed up, studying the two of you. “When she is, technically, your Slave.”

“Yes. But, I don't and didn't want her as a Slave. That's why I never registered her for a Bracelet.” Henry replied, licking his lips.

“So, how did the two of you end up in Bristol, of all places?” She asked, looking between you.

“I ran away, to find my brother, who got himself into a situation, as a Runner, in Bristol.” You answered, before Henry could. “I wanted to go there to try and convince him to come back home. I didn't expect Henry to come after me, when he found out where I went.”

“But,” Henry sighed and bit his lip. “I did. I was worried about her safety, and Dylan asked me, unofficially, to bring her and her brother back here. So, she could testify at the trial and her brother could face justice for his hand in the whole thing.”

Marianne looked at you, her expression stern. “And where is your criminal brother?” She asked, stiffly.

You gulped and licked your lips, staring at your covered legs and picked at the fuzz on your blanket. “He's dead.” You whispered, choking up and tears filling your eyes. “He gave his life, so Henry and I could live and get away from Benji and his men.” You blubbered, crushed.

“Sshh.” Henry hushed you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you against him.

Marianne blinked between the two of you, taken aback.

“They tried torturing her location out of me, that's why I'm so injured. They wanted to kill her to stop the trial against Twist and their operations. I refused, for obvious reasons. She tried to save me, but got caught. When they realized her twin brother was her sibling, they brought him in as well. He died for us, and she got shot in the leg during the escape. Another undercover Marshal helped us get away and back here, to London.” Henry finished explaining to his mother.

“That's what happened.” He sighed, his eyes still on you.

“You're in love.” Marianne blurted out, seeing it as plain as day now.

“Yes.” Henry nodded, looking up at her. “I don't care that she was born in the lower Sectors, mum. I love her, with my heart and soul, and she loves me.”

“I do.” You replied, gulping down your tears and clinging onto him.

Marianne sighed and pressed her lips together, she had waited, a long time, for Henry to finally find someone to fall in love with and share his life. He was the last of the five Cavill boys to find love, settle down and start a family. If she was honest, she didn't care about what social standing the girl he fell in love with was, as long as he was happy, and by the looks of it, you and Henry were more than happy and in love with each other.

“All right.” She whispered softly, nodding her head. “I approve.”

Henry lifted his head and blinked at his mother. “Really?” He asked, shocked to hear it. “You don't care that she's from the lower Sectors?”

“Honestly, Henry? No.” She replied, sighing and shaking her head. “Love is love, and nothing is stronger than true love, not even differing social status.” She told him, honestly. “But, you both know that if, and when, people find out about it, there will be issues. They'll gossip and make comments, some might even turn away from you, shunning you for being with a Sl—someone of a lower standing.” She said, looking between the two of you with an authority of a Royal.

“Do you think you both, and your love, can survive that?”

You and Henry looked at each other, a silent conversation happening between you, before Henry looked back to his mother. “Yes.” He answered, firmly.

The two of you had gone through a lot worse than people talking behind your backs and shunning you.

“All right then.” Marianne replied, standing up. “Then, you have my, and no doubt the rest of the family's, approval, respect and support in the choice of your relationship.” She approached the bed, hugging Henry and kissing his cheek, then turned towards you.

You gulped at her, like a mouse getting stared down by a hungry cat, before she leaned in and hugged you as well; you were surprised by her move, but gave her a hug back. Breaking the hug, Marianne left the room, leaving you alone with Henry again.

“That went incredibly better than I thought it would.” Henry commented, finally breaking the silence in the room.

“You can say that again.” You agreed with him, staring at the open door of your room. “What do we do now, Henry?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Now, Nugget.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “We get you well enough to go home.” He said, squeezing you against him.

Four days later, with the help of some crutches, you left the hospital with Henry, going back to his flat in Sector Two. Kal was over the moon to see you guys again, Charlie having dropped him off at the flat that morning. Henry had body block the Akita to keep him from knocking you over and harming you, until you were able to sit down on the couch and he was allowed to greet you; pressing himself against you and licking at your face.

“Yes, yes!” You laughed, hugging his thick neck, trying to calm him down. “We missed you too, Bear. We missed you just as much.” You told him, kissing his face back and giving him scratches.

After getting settled back in, Henry carefully picked you up, making you laugh as he did.

“Where are we going, Henry?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you through the flat.

“We are both absolutely filthy and need a proper shower.” He told you, going into the bathroom and setting you down on the sink counter. “Lucy!” He called out, looking up.

“Yes, Mr. Cavill?” His flat's AI replied.

“Start the shower on preset two, please.” He said, pulling off the clothing his mother had brought him, before you both left the hospital.

“Right away, sir.” Lucy replied, and the shower came to life.

“Here, let me help.” He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“Thanks.” You smiled, then eased off the counter, balancing on your good leg and grasping Henry's forearm.

Marianne had even been kind enough to bring you clothes as well. So, Henry's hands dropped to the ties of your loose sweatpants and untied the knot, pushing them down your hips to pool around your bare feet. You half limped and half hopped under the spray of the hot shower head, making you moan and groan as it cascaded over your battered and sore body. Henry chuckled and stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your wet hair.

“I love you, so very much.” He whispered to you. “I'm glad you came back with me.” He added, even softer.

You turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his hips. “I love you too, Henry, and I don't want to be anywhere that you're not.”

“Neither do I.” He replied, kissing you gently on the lips.

Dried blood, dirt and grim swirled around the shower drain as you and Henry helped clean each other off. You scrubbed his skin with an exfoliating sponge, careful of his cuts and stitches, as he washed your hair, then switched, Henry washing you as you washed his hair.

“There's almost no better feeling than that shower clean feel.” You said, limping into Henry's bedroom and snagged one of his shirts out of his closet, slipping it over your head. “It's such a euphoric feeling.”

“What feels better than that?” Henry asked, coming in after you and pulling on a loose pair of pajama bottoms.

You smirked up at Henry, impishly. “I think you know.” You chuckled at him.

Henry laughed, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, tenderly, but passionately on the lips. “I agree with that.” He said against your lips. “But, you know what else feels euphoric?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Tell me?” You giggled at him.

“A nap in that bed.” He said, pointing to his bed.

“Oh yes.” You agreed, biting your lip and staring at it. “The clean and divine smelling sheets, the warm and cloud-like mattress and pillows.”

“It's an orgasm in itself.” Henry cooed, staring at his bed with a wanting lust.

“I vote we sleep in it for the next year.” You said, looking up at him.

“I vote, the next decade.” He added, looking down at you.

“Deal.”

Henry scoped you up, carrying you to bed, and laid down with you. Cocooned under the soft and clean sheets, both of you moaned, as you melted into the mattress, like warm butter. You snuggled together, wrapped in each other's arms, and almost sound asleep the moment everything settled in around you.

“Lucy, go to night mode.” Henry mumbled, his body feeling like a ton of rocks, he was so tired.

“Yes, sir.” Lucy whispered back.

Everything went dark, heavy drapes closed over the windows, the lights went out, the doors locked and the air purifier went on, with the soothing sound of ocean waves filling the bedroom, and you and Henry were out cold within minutes.

You slept the rest of the day and well into the next, only getting up because your stomachs were growling for food and your bladders were screaming for release, then you both crawled back into bed and slept even longer. Henry was the first one to officially wake up from your long and deserved hibernation, he laid in bed with you, stroking your hair and the nap of your neck. He traced your face, placing delicate kisses to your eyes, between your brows, the tip of your nose, both cheeks and finally, softly, to your lips.

“Henry.” You whispered, a smile tugging on your lips, before your eyes fluttered open and met his sparkling blues.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked, the tip of his finger ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Warm, content and happy.” You answered, snuggling in closer to him and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “You?”

“The same.” Henry replied, nuzzling your hair. “We should go see your parents.” He said suddenly, biting the inside corner of his lip. “They deserve to know.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead to his chest. You had been trying to avoid this, avoiding telling your parents that you had been kidnapped and sold by traffickers, to the man you were now madly in love with, and that their son was dead, having killed himself in the pursuit of saving you and Henry from the same outcome.

How do you tell them that? You asked yourself.

“I don't know how.” You mewled, squeezing his thick bicep, like it was a lifeline.

Henry frowned into your hair, stroking the small of your back. “With honesty.” He whispered back, his heart hurting for you.

You stood in front of the door to your family's flat and it felt alien, you didn't feel the familiar nostalgia of coming home, of seeing your family after a grueling and mindless fifteen hour shift at the supermarket. It felt like you were there for the very first time, as if you had never been there before and didn't belong. You could hear the noise inside the flat, your brother running around the place, playing with his toys.

Henry rested his hand on the small of your back and gave you an encouraging smile. Biting your lip, you mustered the courage to knock on the door, it didn't feel right to enter the pin and walk in. You fidgeted as you waited for the door to be open, absentmindedly rubbing your thigh as it throbbed with even the slightest bit of your weight on it.

Finally the door ripped open and Christophe looked at Henry first, his eyes growing with shock, then looked to you, where his face lit up with surprise.

“Issy!” He shouted, and launched at you.

“Fuck.” You snapped, catching him in your arms as Henry caught you in his, keeping you both from tumbling to the floor. “Easy, Christophe. I don't need any more injuries.” You tried to scold him, but only ended up laughing at him as he hung from his arms around your neck, feet dangling.

“Where have you been, Issy!” He demanded, letting go of you and looking between you and Henry. “Who's this?”

“Is mum and dad home, Chris?” You asked, smiling down at him, nervously ruffling his hair.

“Yeah!” Christophe nodded and rushed back into the flat. “Mummy! Dad! Issy's back!” He screamed running around the house.

You looked to Henry and took a deep breath, shoulders rising, rolled your eyes, and stepped into the flat. Henry followed behind you, as your parents rushed into the living room, hot on each other's heels.

“Oh my god!” Your mother gasped and scrambled to you.

“Easy.” You warned her, unable to take a second person jumping you, and motioned to your leg as she lifted a brow at you.

“What's happened to you?” Your father asked, blinking at your wrapped thigh.

“I was shot.” You sighed, figuring it was best to be open and honest, and not sugar coat too many things.

“What?” They both roared, horrified.

“You might want to sit down.” You said, motioning towards the sofas.

Looking at each other, your parents shooed Christophe back to his room and sat down on one couch while you and Henry sat on the love-seat, across from them. There was a long, and awkward, silence, before any of your spoke.

“I'm sorry, I've been gone for so long.” You started, squeezing Henry's hand for support and comfort. “There's been a lot going on, and I didn't, we didn't want to risk your, or Christophe's, safety.” You tried to explain the best you could.

“What are you talking about?” Your father frowned, shaking his head at you and Henry.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, you came out with it. “After I went looking for Mikey, that day, I was tricked and taken by a group of Traffickers in Sector Thirty-One. I spent several months in their warehouse, I don't want to go into details, I think that's best.”

“Of course.” Your mother nodded, clutching your father's hand.

“Henry here, is a High Marshal with the Marshal Council.” You introduced him. “He was undercover, trying to get information on the people running the trafficking warehouse, when he—uh—“ You gulped hard.

“He purchased me from them.”

“You what?” Your father hissed at Henry.

“It was part of his job, papa.” You cut him off, before his temper flared too much. “He had to do it for paperwork and other Council stuff. After he did that, he took me back to his place in Sector Two.”

“Is that where you've been this whole time?” Your father asked, his eyes narrowed angrily at Henry.

“It is.”

“And you couldn't contact us?” Your mother asked, upset. “Sent us something to tell us you were alive and all right?”

“She wanted too, many times.” Henry finally spoke up. “But, her life was in serious danger, and if she contacted anyone close to her, like yourselves, you would have been in grave danger as well. So, we didn't contact you for that reason.” He explained to them, hoping to ease that conflict.

“And how did you get shot?” Your father asked, still angry.

“I found out where Mikey was going.” You answered, quietly. “He was heading to Bristol, to advance his training as a Runner.” You gulped and looked up at Henry. “I ran away from Henry, and went to Bristol, trying to find him. I knew he was going to be in a load of trouble and I wanted to try and prevent that; to make him come home.” You explained to them, starting to shake.

Henry wrapped an arm around you and hugged you against him. “You can do this.” He whispered into your ear, gently.

Nodding and clearing your throat, you continued. “Henry came after me, trying to get me to return to London with him.”

“But, she wouldn't come back without Mikey.” He added, nodding his head at you, his eyes only on you. “I was meant to bring her back, so she could testify against her captors. But, I was also meant to bring Michail in, for his part in the Running business.”

“When we got to Bristol and started looking for him, people were looking for me, and they found us.” You picked up the narrative. “They took Henry after he made sure I was out of the way and safe. They hurt him.” You said, looking at his still bruised and cut up face. “I tried to go after him, but they got me as well.”

“While all that was going on, they somehow found out that Mikey and I were related and brought him in as well, locking us all in the same room.”

You stopped talking, trying to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed and turning into a sobbing mess. Your parents sat there for a long time, watching you try to control yourself and got the feeling something very bad had happened, worse than everything you were telling them.

“Where is Michail?” Your mother asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He's-” You licked your lips and shook your head, unable to get it out of your mouth.

“I am sorry to inform you both.” Henry replied for you. “But, Michail didn't make it.” He said gently, using his High Marshal voice, the only way he knew how to say it to your grieving parents.

“They were forcing me to decide which of the three of us would go first.” You sobbed, shaking. “Mikey made the choice to take his own life, so we could live.”

Your mother wailed and threw herself on your father, howling and sobbing, screaming at the top of her lungs about the loss of her beautiful and precious boy. You sat there with Henry, clinging onto him and wincing at each terrible and heartbreaking cry your mother made into your father's neck. Your father sat there, stoically, but silently crying as he held her and rocked back and forth.

“I'm sorry.” You whined at them, drained. “I tried. I tried so hard to bring him back.” You mewled at them, crushed.

Your father's eyes were on Henry as they both comforted the women they loved. “And you, what do you get in all this?” He asked, suspicious. “You bought my daughter, are you going to keep her from her family, still?”

“No, sir.” Henry replied, frowning back at him. “I love your daughter. I have treated her as my equal from the moment I saw her, and she will always be my equal. I don't want her as a Slave or a Servant.” He looked at you and wiped your tears away.

“I just want her.” He whispered, smiling gently at you. “Forever and always.”

175 notes · View notes

peaches-writes · 4 years ago

Text

meeting points

description: because overcoming heavy traffic is the new crossing oceans for people member: jisung / han genre: fluff, college au, not-so-long distance au, city life au, best friends to lovers au word count: 9.4k warning: explicit language, drinking, suggestive, food, traffic, heights, a clown note: i want to throw fists at han jisung but like with affection y’know

one - a new cafe

For almost 2 years now, you and Jisung have what Seungmin has once referred to as a semi-long distance friendship—only semi since you attend universities literally 20 minutes away from each other when there’s no traffic and friendship because, well, you’ve been best friends since high school. It’s not that you don’t have other friends who attend SNU like him or vice versa (but Yonsei University); rather, it’s that Jisung is the slowest replier in the world and you’re the second clingiest person in the world (just behind Hyunjin). Seeing each other in person as much as you can is an absolute must in order to keep Jisung from fully becoming one with his dorm, you sane from the academic pressure of tertiary education, and your overall friendship afloat. College students need to stick together somehow.

Unless it’s a bigger hangout with your mutual friends, you alternate locations depending on who has a heavier deadline to attend to afterward. When Jisung finds himself struggling to finish a song or needs to be at the campus radio station with the rest of 3racha later on, it’s you taking the bus to his university dorm; when it’s you slumped on term papers for your core subjects or on visual props your club needs, Jisung convinces Minho to let him carpool (since his night part-time job is on the way to your university).

But even then, it’s more often that you make the tedious travel. Like today.

On this particular day, it’s you seated on a bus and looking outside the window to pass the agonizingly slow time, sighing for the nth time at the evening rush hour. It’s only 6:20 PM on your phone and your bus is already on the connecting bridge but the endless sight of cars behind and ahead of you, against the darkness of the Han river and the bright city lights, doesn’t make you feel like you’ve crossed any distance. Jisung’s last text was a simple “stay safe” almost an hour ago when you got on the bus from the nearest stop outside your university.

The two of you are you supposed to try the new cafe inside his campus for dinner since your recent hangouts have only been inside his dorm (with Hyunjin too since they’re roommates), watching old movies and eating take-out until Jisung accidentally falls asleep from power working beforehand. It’s nearing the semester break and everyone’s been sort of busy at SNU, but lately, Jisung’s been actually making an effort to make time for you and insisting that you hang out at the expense of his sleep.

Backwards thinking but okay, you shrug one shoulder at the thought. You’ve talked about it once on call when his sudden initiative to meet started since you’re concerned about his well-being and that you have all the time in the world once break starts but Jisung unexpectedly fell asleep halfway and Hyunjin had to end the call. Two days later, Jisung texted you that he rented the movie you wanted to watch at the cinema for the weekend with an apology for falling asleep and assurance that he’s almost finished with his deadlines and that he’s asking you to hang out responsibly.

It’s not like you don’t like it, you are already on the way to SNU, after all. Besides, you’re still very much free from heavy academic and club activities since your professors scheduled their deadlines after the break and your club is not as active lately. Have fun now, suffer later as Seungmin and Changbin have told you when you told them your worries about Jisung’s sleep schedule.

After a while of trying to count the cars on the bridge as your lane moves a little faster now, you open your phone and message Jisung to pass the time. You don’t always expect that he replies but it’s always the most reassuring when it’s him you’re contacting, even when it’s just casual.

y/n: don’t u have radio tonight? [sent 6:32 PM]

You’ve heard 3racha’s campus radio show on the several times you hung out at SNU during the day. They air live on Friday nights, Saturday if most of the all-student crew are busy, but the meetings are rather frequent when nearing holidays so you’re careful of leaving on time even on a non-Friday weekday like this.

y/n: just crossed ynghwa

y/n: bus is driving steady now!!! aaaaak

jisung: almost typed ‘arent u supposed to be looking at d road’ then i rmmbr that u don’t have a car LOL [sent 6:56 PM]

y/n: so do u have a meeting later?

jisung: no

At their dorms, Hyunjin is out for the night to god knows where but Jisung is quite certain it’s not for studying since he was dressed to the nines. When he got a text from you, he slowly but surely forced himself to stand up from his work area to get dressed. Though he’s the one who insisted on hanging out, it doesn’t change the fact that leaving his work is hard when he’s in his ‘zone’ but he has to since the new cafe’s apparently a 3-minute walk from his dorm but he has to meet you at the bus stop first.

y/n: ur probs not even dressed yet

y/n: close that laptop nerd

Jisung couldn’t bring it in himself to reply because he was already preoccupied avoiding getting dissed by you again whenever he wears his favorite Supreme t-shirt.

You arrive at the bus stop at around 6:50 PM, just as Jisung arrives, panting heavily from running the remaining distance when he received an ‘almost there’ message from you. You offer him a bottle of water you forgot to take out from your backpack and he quickly swipes it from you, chugging down the contents as if his life depends on it. “Woah there, haven’t seen you in a long time. Drink slowly and breathe.” You rub his arm comfortingly as the two of you stand on the empty sidewalk. Behind you, your bus drives away. “You didn’t have to run, you know, I could’ve just met up with you wherever you are.”

He then stops drinking just to breathlessly say, “But it’s dark and there could be creeps out.”

You’re touched but still concerned. “Still. I have you on speed dial, remember?”

When Jisung’s fully recovered, the two of you walk to the cafe together, catching up on what’s happened in your own lives in the past week since you last met. There’s not much, actually, since Jisung really doesn’t go out often unless it’s for classes, the radio show, or some of his other friends insisted and you’re almost always with your dorm mates, Lia and Ryujin, or with Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin.

“Minho says they have good Americano.” Eventually you arrive and Jisung immediately points to the several posters on the window, showcasing the cafe’s specialty.

“And how many days have you been running only on Americano?” You point out in an almost scolding tone. You approach the counter now where there are barely any people in line since most customers are already seated.

“Not that long!” He holds up his hands in the air. “Just 2 weeks!”

“Jisung!”

He imitates you dramatically with,“Y/N!” to which you only roll your eyes to.

“Good evening, how may I take your order?” The barista asks.

Jisung opens his mouth to speak but you hold an arm in front of him and turn to the barista, “One pesto, one lasagna, the chicken wings for sharing, two glasses of water, one cheesecake, and one strawberry cake, please.”

“Y/N, this is a cafe, where their specialty is coffee.” Jisung teases dryly as the barista takes note of your order, a last attempt at getting himself another cup of Americano.

So without turning to him, you tell the barista, “Also, can you add an additional Americano—?”

“Finally—” “Two shots for me, not him.”

The barista only laughs at your banter. “Name please?”

“Y/N.”

While you’re conversing with the barista, Jisung shoots daggers to the side of your face, dramatically declaring, “I’m stealing your Americano.”

But you only drop your arm in front of him as the barista says, “That would be 12,000 won.”

“Oh, he’s paying.”

Either way, Jisung reluctantly pays with the sole motivation to get a sip from your iced Americano.

“Seriously, though, cut the Americano for a little while, maybe until finals.” You point out as you settle on a nearby table that has just been cleaned by staff. “Do you even know what a water dispenser looks like at this point?”

“I drink water.” He pouts, opting to sit down next to you to show that he really has all intents to steal your Americano. “It just doesn’t give me ideas for my projects.”

“You have one practical project due before the break. What about the other times you do work?”

“I do them quickly.”

You sigh in defeat. “Ah, seriously?”

When the barista calls for your name at the counter, Jisung holds you down by the shoulder and makes a run for the counter, taking a long sip of your Americano until you caught up to him.

“Success!” He exclaims, proud of himself, as he takes one of the two trays.

“Satisfied with your Americano?” You take the other tray in defeat, walking back to your table with him.

“Hm, I don’t knoooow.” He teases in sing-song, sitting next to you again instead of across from you as he would usually do. “You might finish everything before even finishing your pasta.”

“I’m not too much in a coffee mood, actually.” You scrunch up your nose. The two of you then proceed on taking your respective orders off the tray, setting the trays aside.

“But after the break, you will be.” He states matter-of-factly. “How many projects do you have due after the break?”

“I can only remember six because I really don’t want to think about them right now.” You steal a small slice of cheesecake from him as an unwritten exchange for his unlimited share of your iced Americano. “As Seungmin and Changbin once said, ‘have fun now, suffer later.’“

“Oh, I’m fun?”

You turn to your side to look at him, finding him looking back at you with a triumphant smile. “You’re not letting me live this down, won’t you?”

“No, it’s getting added to my list of Y/N compliments!”

You roll your eyes, taking another slice of cheesecake. He reiterates with his now third sip of Americano—you’re not even sure anymore because you’re pretty sure he’s already drank half of it.

“I said drink your water, jeez.” You slide him his glass of water, barely a quarter empty. You take the Americano from him, taking your own long sip of the drink.

“I will, I will! Just one last si—” “Han Jisung, let me drink my damn coffee!” “Okay, fine, let’s exchange!”

You leave the cafe when it’s nearing 9 PM. Somehow, when you’re with Jisung and food, you barely check the time, much less your phone, since your table gets messy from stealing each other’s dessert plates and, for tonight, Jisung drinking most of your Americano. You and Jisung also had a lot to say about your respective classes in a full-on rant session since there’s only 2 weeks left until everyone is on semester break.

“There’s not much traffic at this time, isn’t there?” Jisung asks you as he walks you back to the bus stop. He holds a paperbag containing your take-out cakes for your roommates. “You might fall asleep and miss your stop again.”

“Says the guy who sleeps on people during calls.” You tease with an elbow to his side. He tries to slap you back on your arm but you walk ahead enough to be out of his reach, sticking your tongue out at him. “There isn’t much traffic now, though, it’s only Thursday.”

“Y/N.” He laughs while calling your name, covering his mouth. “It’s Friday.”

Your eyes, of course, widen in surprise. “It is?” He only nods at this, finding amusement in the way your expression quickly turns into that of horror. “Ah, shit, I told my roommates we hang out tomorrow!”

“Why, do you have to do the dishes or something?”

But checking your phone, you only find a ‘wya’ message from Ryujin. Almost as quickly as you started panicking, you calm down again. “Oh, it’s fine.” You conclude, shoving your phone back in your coat pocket. “It’s just that they sometimes think I died at the library or something and end up making a big scene about it. Last time, our batch FB group got spammed.”

“Wow, then you judge me for always being cooped up in the dorms?”

“That’s different—I actually go out and walk. I’m surprised you can even run to the bus stop a while ago.”

Jisung threatens to swing your take-out bag at you. You only take it lightheartedly by holding your hands up in front of him, laughing.

But all jokes and banter aside, you give him a hug before boarding the bus. “Text me when you get home.” He recites his constant line when it’s you leaving. “Or when you miss your bus.”

“Shut up.” You mumble on his shoulder, punching his back hard before pulling away. “I hope you trip on your way back.”

“‘Night, Y/N.” “See you when I see you, nerd.”

two - a park

After a month of living off of ramen and iced Americano, barely seeing the sun, and hearing the same chords and melodies on repeat, Jisung passes the song he’s been working a week later. Besides this, he only has three papers left to tweak before he can fully enjoy the semester break without any sort of guilt.

To celebrate, it’s you inviting him this time to ride bicycles so he can move around but also relax. You picked the park at Ichon that’s on your side of the Han river but still far away from university so you don’t think of schoolwork the entire time.

On this particular hangout, you took the same bus but at different times. He boarded the bus first before you, arriving some 30 minutes after you’ve arrived at your nearest stop. Since it’s a Saturday morning, the traffic’s not too heavy.

“You look nice.” Jisung nudges you with one shoulder as you take a seat on the spot he saved you. The bus is not full since the rush hour had just gone.

“It’s just a t-shirt and shorts.” You reply flatly, hiding the fact that you actually thought a lot about your outfit last night. You even wore your good sneakers and denim jacket today.

“Yes, but it’s your other other favorite graphic shirt.” He points out. “The one for when we’re outdoors.”

Oh, so he noticed.

“Yes because someone has to look cute.” But you actually think Jisung looks nice even when he wears the same Supreme shirt like today—you’re just too in deep with the teasing to compliment him.

“I compliment the rainbow shirt you always wear when we sightsee but you diss my Supreme shirt.” He rolls his eyes. “Ah, people these days.”

“Because you’re always in and out of university in that.” To emphasis, you tease him further by scooting away. “Do you even wash that?”

“Of course I do.” He confidently and lightheartedly answers, putting an arm on your shoulder and pulling you back. “While it’s in the laundry, I wear my other Supreme shirt, or my other other Supreme shirt—“

“Yikes.” You tsk at him, crossing your arms. “This is what staying inside all day does to you.”

“That’s why you’re here, my Y/N, to take me out.”

“I was reduced to the role of babysitter.”

“I was going for hangout or date but you called yourself babysitter.”

Arriving at Ichon park, you make a quick snack stop at the nearest convenience store first. Since it’s your turn to pay, Jisung makes sure to buy all of his favorites (sans an iced Americano this time as your only condition to pay for him). You fill an entire basket with snacks and drinks both for when you ride a bicycle and for when you settle down for a picnic later at lunch.

“By the way, did you bring the mat?” You ask Jisung as you walk to the renting station, remembering that he and Hyunjin have the picnic mat you and your bigger circle of friends use for outings like this.

“Of course I did, what do you take me for?” He unzips his backpack to show you the blue gingham pattern Seungmin picked out two years ago. Aesthetic, he said. “I’m not the one who mistakes dates.”

“And I’m not the one who had to ask what the picnic mat looks like the other night despite having it for 4 months now.” After a few more steps, you arrive at the renting station. “I was just making sure.”

You then rent two bicycles, both with baskets for your belongings.

“Y/N, wear a hat.” Jisung reminds you while putting in his.

You frown. You did bring a cap but you also put a lot of effort on your hair today. “It’s going to ruin my hair.”

“The sun’s going to burn your hair if you don’t.” He takes your cap from your hands and gently places it on top of your hair before you can even reiterate, a small smile gracing his face at your speechless expression. “There.”

The fuck is he on? Still, your heart beats erratically at his sporadic gestures. Being Jisung’s best friend is a bit of a rollercoaster.

Especially lately.

Before you know it, Jisung’s already on his bicycle, urging you to do the same. Half-dazed, the two of you leisurely circle the entire stretch of the park, pointing at random landmarks across the river and eating your snacks.

Since this hangout’s also meant as a celebratory one, you let Jisung let loose and yell, “I’m done with my projects!” while extending his hands out as he cycles. You think to yourself that you have the rest of the year having a heart attack over that.

The park is full of families, friends, and couples on a Sunday that you almost couldn’t find a spot to lay your picnic mat on when the two of you got too tired of cycling around. You couldn’t consider sitting on a park bench since Jisung was getting sleepy as well, a result of not having a proper sleep schedule and a half in the past weeks.

So, after almost twenty minutes, you managed to secure a place from a couple who was just leaving for the nearby Namsan tower.

“Thank you so much again!” You thank the couple who even helps you set up the picnic mat while you let Jisung temporarily rest on the bare grass with his backpack as a pillow, sleep quickly catching onto him.

“No problem.” The woman says with a smile.

“Have fun on your own date.” The man adds, placing an arm on his date’s shoulders.

“Oh we’re not—“ But before you could even finish, the couple’s already walked away. You sigh, squatting down to Jisung’s eye level this time. “Jisung wake up, mat’s ready.”

He scrunches his nose with a groan, about to roll over to the opposite direction until you stopped him and rolled him towards the mat. His head lands soundlessly on the ground, forcing him to open his eyes.

“Damn, I thought I was going to land on your lap.” He rubs the area on his head that hit the grass.

You sit down next to him, taking out the sandwiches you bought from the convenience store. “Who do you think rolled you over, dumbass? For a genius, your sense of direction is quite questionable.”

“But can I?” He looks up at you now, poking your bare thigh. “Do you need like a blanket or something?”

You remind yourself that this is the same guy who threatened to smack you with a box of cake last week and dropkicked you once (but that’s another story). “Fine, go ahead.”

As if he woke up just a little with wide eyes and a genuinely happy expression on his face, Jisung scoots over while laying down (which makes you stifle a giggle because he looks like a worm doing it) until his head lays on your lap. You push a bottle of water and two bags of sandwiches next to his shoulders. “You have to eat later, though, okay?”

Looking down at him, you surprise yourself by finding him with his eyes still open. He busies himself with lazily getting his phone and earphones from his bag, putting on an earbud and offering you the other. “I saved my project for you to listen to.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to sleep?” Nevertheless, you take the earbud just as the music starts to play.

“Yeah, but I’m suddenly hyper-aware and awake.” He shrugs, taking the sandwich on his side. “You know, like when kids get put to bed from sleeping somewhere else.”

“So you do think you’re a kid?”

“Shush, this is the good part in the song.”

You chuckle, opting to not reply vocally to enjoy the song you’ve been hearing fragments off for the past month. The two of you then eat and listen in silence, that is until he asks you for comments at the end and the two of you discuss it for a while then it’s back to comfortable silence again but with different music as you scroll through your phone and Jisung tries to nap again.

Jisung falls asleep once he has a good look at you without your phone in the way.

At the end of the day, around 4 PM so you don’t get stuck in rush hour traffic, you take the same bus again but this time, it’s you leaving first.

The only problem is that despite a year and a half of frequenting your side of the Han river, Jisung still can’t seem to memorize bus stops well, forcing you to stay awake the entire ride.

“Y/N—“ “No, Jisung, we’re still three stops away.”

You don’t even have to look up from your phone to know that Jisung’s still looking out of the window as he’s had for the past 20 minutes, trying to gues your stop. At hearing your answer, he decides to stop, turning his head to the other direction as you text your groupchat.

“What’s up?” He rests his head on your shoulder casually to get a better view of the messages you’re skimming through, sending a shiver down your spine.

You try shrugging him off his shoulder but he shows no initiative to move. “Everyone’s starting to talk about the annual Halloween party. You’d know if you check the chat often.”

Away from your view, Jisung frowns. “I get ideas of what you’re talking about from how Hyunjin reacts to them, especially to the memes, thank you very much.”

“Well, at least you’re a bit better than Changbin when it comes to being online.” You say, more to yourself than to Jisung. “Anyway, you, Hyunjin, and Chan are in charge of the guest list. Chan just suggested that you squeeze it in your next radio show this week since the party’s the next night—maximum of 50 people!”

“Oh, yeah, we can do that.” He nods. “Any news on the venue?”

At this, you release a sigh of frustration. “Seungmin and Changbin booked a rooftop in Itaewon of all places.”

“Isn’t that cool? Why are you sighing?”

“Speak for yourself, Jisung. Remember last year?” You close your phone now but Jisung’s head still remains on your shoulder. “I don’t want to deal with a lot of drunk college kids again—especially not on a rooftop and not when I really deserve a drink.”

“Nah, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as last year.” He tries to say dismissively but the two of you know exactly know crazy it was last year, especially for Jisung.

“Which is why I told Minho that we buy the alcohol together on Wednesday—so no one does anything too stupid.” You shrug Jisung completely off of your shoulder now since you’re nearing your stop and he complies, caught off-guard with the way you said you and Minho are doing something together. “Okay, Sung, this is my stop.”

You stand up and Jisung almost does the same in his absentminded state. “So are you carpooling with Minho on Saturday?”

“Yeah, I need to do something for my club before going to the party but we’re sending the drinks early in case we’re late.” You say quickly. “Okay, I gotta go. See you this break?”

“Hm, see you.”

When the bus moves again, there is a sinking feeling in Jisung’s stomach until the view of you walking back to your university disappears.

three - a supermarket

You invited Lia to help you and Minho to buy liquor at the nearby supermarket after Minho’s classes, only to find out that Minho brought 3racha along.

“It’s not that I don’t trust your box-carrying skills but I don’t trust your liquor-handling skills.” Minho explains when he sees your surprised expression at seeing Chan wave at you and Lia from the front passenger seat. “That goes literally and figuratively.”

“I mean, I feel the same which is why Lia’s here but, really? You trust Jisung and Changbin with liquor?”

“Hyunjin’s out with someone again and Jeongin might get carded again.” Changbin shrugs from the open passenger seat window.

“Seungmin? Jeongin? Felix?”

“Do you think we’d actually let them touch alcohol until Saturday?” “Right.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be fine. We’re buying for around 50 people right?” Lia asks Minho as the two of you squeeze in the back seat of his car.

“Yeah, so that’s about 6 boxes since the venue’s also providing some drinks.”

“What about snacks?” “Covered by the venue too.”

“How many bottles can fit in 1 box?” You mumble to yourself but Jisung, sitting very closely next to you, hears.

“Around 10 to 15, probably.” He says, startling you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be finishing papers?”

“I already finished them waaaay back.” He smirks at you coolly. “While being a ‘cave man’ at the dorms like you said. You’re supposed to be proud I’m voluntarily going out today.”

He’s too prideful to admit that he finished his remaining work in the 3-day window you didn’t see each other so he can tag along today.

At the supermarket, you split up in teams, each with two baskets to fill. Changbin and Lia head off to the liquor store outside the main supermarket while Minho and Chan go to the liquor aisle inside the supermarket. You and Jisung, on the other hand, stick together, browsing the other aisles instead after being in the same liquor aisle but at different sections with Minho and Chan. No reason, you both just felt like it.

“Do you think we have enough budget to sneak in a bag of candies?” You think out loud, holding a bag of mint candies from the shelf. “I’m not sure if I want this one but Minho likes it.”

“Minho probably wouldn’t notice—maybe he’ll even think he put that in himself.” Jisung says, standing really close to you and examining the candies himself. Your two baskets of alcohol bottles are half-forgotten to the side. “Why do you even want to buy candies for him? If you want it, though I can buy it for you.”

You give him a skeptical look, only then noticing how easily your shoulders brush against each other. “Why are you standing really close?” You voice your observation out loud, making him turn his head to you with a pout. “I mean sure go ahead but you’re literally blocking the light.”

“I can’t?” To emphasis, he leans some of his body weight to you, just enough to make you hold onto him by his arm at the feeling that you’ll tip over if you don’t. Succeeding, he smirk triumphantly and takes your hand off of his arm so that he can put in on your shoulder. “Y/N, I missed youuu.”

“We saw each other 3 days ago.” You huff, more to yourself than to him because he really is making you nervous. “You’re so clingy today, that’s my job!”

“Sus, I can’t miss you after 3 days now? When it’s already my break and you’re still attending some classes?” He pouts, holding his arms open. “Come here.”

“What? Why?” At this point, you’re just getting a serious whiplash from his sudden clinginess. That’s my job, how dare he?

When you don’t budge, eyes still narrowed at him, he moves forward himself, trapping you in a hug. “I want to hug you, idiot.”

“What if I don’t want to?” “I’m still hugging you.”

You simply give in this time, the two of you just standing there until Chan passed by to get Minho candies.

“Dudes, come on, we’re buying alcohol.” He reminds with an amused smile, snatching the bag of mint candies from your grasp. “Get moving, lovebirds.”

“We’re n—“ “We’ll be right there.”

You pretend on swinging a bag of gummy bears at him. When he asks you why, you only run back to the liquor aisle to meet Chan and Minho.

More bickering, some alcoholic jokes, and the woman at the check-out counter asking for your I.D.s later, the 6 of you rest and eat ice cream at a parlour near the check-out before leaving, your boxes of alcohol carefully placed together at the end of your table.

“So how many people are actually going?” Lia asks Chan over her chocolate ice cream.

“Around thirty-people already responded to the invite.” Chan answers. You wince every time he bites his ice cream. Every person to themselves but biting ice cream is just a no for you. “When the Friday show airs, hopefully more people go.”

“We had 100 people last year, right?”

“That’s because these geniuses thought they can handle a hundred drunks at a house party.” You recall the chaotically eventful party last year. “We’re cutting in half since we’re at a rooftop party and I don’t want to see people jumping off the 4th floor.”

“Also since not a lot of people dress up.” Jisung frowns. The party has always been a costume party when it started 3 years ago but somehow, a lot of the guests you’re not particularly close with always show up in the bare minimum.

“Ooh, what are you guys dressing up as this year?” Minho asks, suddenly excited at the topic of costumes.

“Might just go as a vampire again this year since I won’t have much time preparing this Saturday.” You frown.

“Hey, I wanted to go as a vampire!” Chan complains.

“You already went as a vampire last year! Can we not match again?”

“What about you Minho?” Lia asks, disinterested in your bicker with Chan.

“I haven’t decided yet.” He shrugs. “Ask Jisung.”

Lia turns to Jisung who enthusiastically answers, “It’s a surprise!”

“It’s probably the horse head again.” You roll your eyes, knowing his enthusiasm very well. “But we’re just going to pretend that it’s a surprise on Saturday.”

“You better do.” Jisung pouts.

“Have you even washed that horse mask since last year?” Minho narrows his eyes at the younger boy.

You yourself didn’t even expect that he’d keep it for this year especially after what happened.

Yikes.

“Minho, you know I do! I take it out sometimes to scare Hyunjin’s dates!”

You head to the events place in Itaewon after. From the photos in your groupchat, it’s an average-sized building in relation to the others in this particular district, holding a convenience store on the first floor, a BBQ place on the 2nd floor, and miscellaneous offices on the 3rd—one of which rents the rooftop for events.

“So why did we have to buy drinks at the supermarket again?” Changbin asks, still trying to catch his breath from carrying so many boxes of alcohol.

“Because supermarket alcohol is slightly better than convenience store ones.” You answer matter-of-factly. “It’s semester break and Halloween. Indulge a little, Binnie.”

“Y/N has plans to get wasted.” Jisung spoils to everyone, making you call out his name from the front seat. You asked to exchanged seats with Chan after loading the boxes at the back of the car so you can have a run through of the food and drinks. Throughout the whole ride, he’s been hell-bent on exposing you.

“Then it’s counterproductive to buy those hard drinks.”

“Who says I’m sharing them?” You chuckle. You didn’t expect that anyone but Jisung would notice that you bought smaller drinks for yourself.

Then the car is quiet for a while sans the music playing from Jisung’s phone which you immediately recognized as one of the playlists 3racha played on a broadcast before.

When you get stuck in temporary traffic on the last intersection before the venue, you then turn to Minho. “Minho, aren’t you afraid of heights? Is 4 floors okay?”

Glancing at Minho for a response, he nods while still looking at the road. “The place’s really nice in person. I went with Seungmin yesterday.”

“If you say it’s nice then I’d probably feel guilty of letting people trash the place this weekend.” Because it’s true, if Lee Minho calls something nice or pretty, it’s really really nice or pretty.

“It’s really spacious so you don’t have to stare at the ground below all the time, lots of picnic chairs and tables with the big-ass umbrellas, fairy lights, and a sound system when people want to karaoke or need mics.”

“Ah, yes, very much of Seungmin’s aesthetic.”

“I’d like to be acknowledged too, thank you.” Changbin says from your rear view mirror view.

“Thank you Changbin.” You tease him with a laugh. “What did you like about the place?”

And before Changbin could even answer seriously, the rest of the car answers in chorus, “There are lots of glitter and foil decorations.” before breaking into laughter.

“There are beach props too! There’s fake grass and everything so it looks cheerful!” Changbin defends but to no avail because you only end up laughing. “Seungmin didn’t like it but I insisted that we borrow it for the party.”

You arrive at the building afterward, handing the alcohol to the staff on their 3rd floor office and finalizing the food you’re going to have on the party.

“We’ll see you on Saturday night, then?” The owner of the building confirms once you’ve covered all the inquiries you have.

Chan nods. “Me and the guy who booked the place, Seungmin, will be here first on Saturday night around 6 PM.”

“What are you doing at 6 PM that you have to be late on Saturday?” Jisung whispers next to you, diverting your attention from looking at the view next to you to him as he looks at you expectantly.

“Cramming a poster while waiting for a club meeting.” You frown. “Not everyone had their school day on Friday.”

“Can’t you skip?”

“Hm? Why?” You nudge his shoulder, as if trying to take out the pouty expression he wears on his face. “I told you I’m carpooling with Minho on that day so it’s fine.”

“But stiiill. I won’t save your alcohol.”

“No need, I already asked Seungmin to do it...and even asked Felix to watch you before I get here.”

“What did you bribe those two with?”

“Tickets to Lotte world.”

Jisung narrows his eyes at you but he’s thoroughly impressed. “You’re too smart.”

“I have to outsmart you somehow when it comes to doing something stupid.” You shrug with a chuckle. “Plus, traffic’s really heavy on Saturday since everyone’s going home that day.”

“You really should just ditch club.” He shrugs. “It’s the last day anyway.”

“I can’t, dumbass, that’s part of my grade. Really, it’s fine, at least I’m with Minho on that day so we can be late together.”

Before Jisung could argue further, however, Lia approaches the two of you. “Ready to go, guys?”

four - a rooftop party

Sometimes, you hate it when Jisung is right. Turns out, the meeting you had for your club was relatively pointless and could’ve just been discussed over e-mail or your club groupchat. Still, it ended at around 9:15 PM because most of your club mates arrived later than the 7:35 PM you agreed on and the stubborn president didn’t want to start the meeting until everyone was there.

Still, you passed your posters (which you definitely crammed at the school library prior) and made a lot of suggestions during the meeting which felt rewarding enough to make up for the frustrations you can’t vocally tell your seniors over causing a lot of inconveniences to your meeting. Just think that’s going to be you in a few years, Y/N, so try to understand, you think to yourself as you return to an empty dorm. Ryujin already informed you over text that she and Lia already left with Yeji to pick up Chaeryeong from her university.

“Now, for costume.” You mumble under your breath, heading straight to your room.

After much thought on which black clothes to wear, you got dressed quickly to attend to your make-up faster. Since you’re a vampire again like last year, you have to put in more effort on your hair and make-up—you’re definitely not winning best costume but at least you look decent (and definitely not wearing the same clothes from last year) for the endless pictures Hyunjin’s going to take of everyone later.

When you’re already halfway to your make-up, Minho decides on spamming you, your phone lighting up and displaying 9:58 PM. Shit.

minho: here!!!

minho: traffic still heavy

minho: chan asked for reinforcements btw

minho: so were stopping at d mart

minho: pls don’t tell me ur putting make-up blood on ur face [sent 10:03 PM]

You groan, typing a quick “i am” reply to his last message before quickly finishing your make-up and heading out.

y/n: ok otw [sent 10:06 PM]

You quickly spot Minho’s car right outside of your dorm, his tinted windows rolling down as you approach. Opening the car, your eyes widen in brief surprise before crinkling into a laugh as you get in and close the door. “W-what the...what the fuck, Minho?”

“Don’t.” He holds a threatening finger up in front of your face, putting his hand back on the steering wheel as you drive away from your dorm. But even he stifles from his own laughter. “The kids asked that we buy 10 more bottles of the whiskey Chan picked out since Hyunjin made cocktails with it and a lot of people want more.”

“W—wh...sorry, it’s just that I can’t concentrate when you’re looking like this.” You end up laughing for the rest of your first 2 minutes inside the car and almost forgetting what you were going to ask.

This year, Minho is a Korean traditional woman for Halloween.

“So,” You start when you’ve recovered, holding a hand to your chest to steady your breathing. “So, are you going out to the mart or do I have to sacrifice myself?”

“You can air drop the pic of the whiskey brand on your phone.” He answers.

You sigh, putting on a jacket you find on the back seat to cover your exposed torso for when you go out to the supermarket.

At the supermarket, people only gave you brief stares because of the fake blood dripping from your chin to your collarbones before their attentions turned to another person (probably from another Halloween party) dressed as a literal YouTube video picking up snacks. Though you’re relieved, you made your exit quick after your purchase, pushing the cart as fast as you can to the nearby parking spot Minho’s car occupied, because your phone suddenly started ringing from consecutive messages from Jisung, of all people.

jisung: y/n where r uuuu

jisung: party started at 6! 6!

jisung: seungmin playing truth or drink

jisung: changbin singing at karaoke

jisung: also i drank ur mules

jisung: n ur peach sojus

jisung: but i shared w felix! [sent 10:25 PM]

You sigh, particularly at reading the last message after successfully loading your box of whiskey at the back of the car. You were too hopeful trusting even Seungmin and Felix.

y/n: otw w minho [sent 10:25 PM]

“Jisung’s really drunk again.” You inform Minho once you’re on the road again. “I can’t even trust Seungmin or Felix now.”

“Well, you’ll have to keep texting him because the traffic going to Itaewon doesn’t seem to be moving.” Minho sighs. “You know he’ll sleep dehydrated if he’s that bored by himself to text you.”

You groan. “No shortcuts?”

“Even the shortcuts are flooded. I swear, everyone’s travelling home or partying tonight.”

You lean back on your seat, taking a few deep breaths. If there’s anyone that shouldn’t be left alone at a party, it’s one Han Jisung.

At the party, Jisung sits at the bar, accompanying Hyunjin as he re-discovers his drunken talent of mixing cocktails. He scrolls through his phone absentmindedly with the occasional sips of the peach soju he’s been struggling to finish for 20 minutes now, having no motivation to join Changbin and Felix at the karaoke or Chan, Jeongin, and Seungmin playing more drinking games with most of the guests.

“Jisung, you’re sulking.” Hyunjin points out as he gives another guest his new cocktail recipe.

“No, I’m not.” Jisung frowns and hiccups through his big horse mask even when the older boy can’t actually see.

“You’ve been in there for the past 20 minutes.” Hyunjin knocks on Jisung’s horse mask for emphasis. He’s no better, actually, dressing up as a big giraffe head since Felix decided to be the Joker this year. “Literally the last time I saw your face, you were texting Y/N.”

“Y/NNNN! Why aren’t Y/N and Minho here yet? I want to see Y/NNNNN!”

“Well, it’s traffic out.” At the very end of the bar, Hyunjin can see the heavy traffic below. “Everyone’s going home or eating out tonight.”

“But I want Y/NNN!” Jisung is fumbling around now, narrowly missing his bottle of peach soju since the horse mask doesn’t have a good view from the weird eyes. “Where is Y/N?”

Though his friend is incredibly drunk now, the tipsy Hyunjin still tries to keep a decent conversation so Jisung doesn’t accidentally fall asleep on his mask again. “You saw each other a lot the past weeks, though? Unlike when it’s a regular school week and you barely reply to them on chat.”

“But that’s because I’m not as busy then as I was this semester.” Jisung manages to slur after a while before momentarily taking his horse mask off just enough for him to take a long sip of his peach soju with a metal straw he found somewhere in his backpack a while ago. “I miss Y/N when I’m busy.”

“What about when you’re not busy?” “I also miss them when I’m busy.”

Hyunjin sighs. “Just say you have a crush on them and go.”

And he’s not sure if Jisung actually heard him but the boy replies with a muffled sigh. “Having a crush from people in different universities is hard!”

You open your phone to check the time, the twelfth time you’ve done so in the past hour since you’ve been stuck in the now moving traffic. Eleven-twenty PM on the dot, the party could either be still in full swing with everyone drunk off their asses or dying down with everyone drunk off their asses—either way, most of the liquor are probably gone now (even the one you asked Seungmin to guard for you) and the reinforcement’s probably not a good idea already. Next to you, Minho sighs, “Not that it’s annoying but you keep checking your phone and frowning every time you do. It’s scary, especially since you look more like a depressed vampire than a slutty one.”

“Thanks, Minho.” You roll your yes, closing your phone and putting it down on your lap.

“You’re really that excited much to see your boyfriend?”

You glare daggers through his side profile. “He’s not my boyfriend and I’m more worried than excited because he’s really bad at drinking. Remember last year—”

“It wasn’t that b—”

“Minho, he was crying because he thought his mask was stuck on his head.”

“But—” “He also tried drinking soju while crying and wearing his mask.”

Knowing he’s on the losing side of the argument, Minho waves his hand dismissively, eyes still on the road. The traffic’s moving steady now. “Anyway, there’s 50 people there someone has to be sober-ish somehow.”

“Uh huh, sure, someone is.” You reply dryly. Though this party has a larger attendance list than your friend group’s usual hangouts since it’s your annual Halloween party, you can’t help but remain distrustful. Your friends aka the worst drunks ever are hosting, for God’s sake.

“Why don’t you text someone so you’d feel less nervous?” Minho suggests after a while.

And this time, you actually listen to him and open your phone again, opting to text Chan.

y/n: y’all still alive?

y/n: we’re about to turn right to the venue [sent 11:28 PM]

chan: shit’s lit!!!!!!

“Yup, even Chan’s drunk.” You conclude, closing your phone as Minho pulls up to the building. Minho sighs for probably the nth time tonight, exiting the car when you do. “Come on, ahjumma, we’re checking if our friends are still alive.”

Arriving at the party by the service elevator the staff kindly showed you, you almost kicked the box of whiskey bottles you placed on the ground in surprise once the doors opened and Chan greeted you dressed as a clown. “Finally, you’ve arrived!” He exclaims through his semi-faded white make-up and red nose, completely ignoring the way you just had the shock of your life. “Here, let me help you with the whiskey.”

You recover quickly, helping Minho and Chan lift the box to the nearby bar where Hyunjin is still busy mixing drinks. “Chan, why are you dressed as a clown?”

“Twitter poll.” He answers nonchalantly. “You should see Jeongin, he’s a life-size bread.”

Carefully setting the box on the ground for Hyunjin (who is more than grateful that the whiskey finally arrived), your expression returns to that of concern. “So, where’s Jisung?”

“Oh, he said he was going to take pictures by the railings with the good view.” Hyunjin shrugs. Panic sets on your face. “Don’t worry! There’s like a lot of people there right now! And I gave him water a while ago!”

You swip a bottle of peach soju and a bottle of water you saw hidden expertly under the counter from your view on the ground, sighing. “I swear to God, you guys are the worst hosts ever.”

And so you set out to find Jisung amidst the most random crowd of costumes ever. You spot Changbin dressed as Kim Shin and a Joker Felix still competing for higher scores on the karaoke and passed by baguette Jeongin and sunflower Seungmin who are now hosting a very drunken Whisper Challenge with your seniors, Younghyun who wears a big report card on his neck, Jae who’s dressed in Chicken Little’s clothes, Snow White Sana, and a pirate Jeongyeon.

If it’s any consolation, at least people dressed up better this year compared to last year.

“Ryujin, have you seen Jisung?” You near the viewing area on the other side of the rooftop where the light gets progressively fewer.

“He’s over there.” Your roommate points to an empty area with only a few tables and outdoor lights.

“Where?”

“Oh, he’s laying down somewhere. He’s still wearing the horse mask if that helps.”

“Thank you!” You part ways as you open your phone, turning on the flashlight to find Jisung.

From your area of the rooftop, the EDM music Chan mixed for this party already sounds faint and the traffic below sounds louder. You point your flashlight on the ground but also look ahead for any shadow of a horse mask.

“Han Jisung.” You call for him in a loud whisper, in case he fell asleep since he’s sound-sensitive when drunk. “Yah, I swear to God, we’re not hosting another party again if you’re dead somewhere.”

You repeat this a few times, changing baseless threats in hopes that it alerts him, until you find him raising a hand up in the air. “Here.” He responds tiredly to you, his voice not muffled by a mask this time as he’s long set it down next to him. He spots you immediately, illuminated by the garden lights. “You look pretty.”

“Thanks?” You approach carefully, pointing your flashlight away from his face and kneeling beside him. “Why are you laying down on the ground?”

You contemplate on laying down next to him but then you remember that you left your jacket in Minho’s car at the thought that the denim doesn’t go with your all-black ensemble. The bare floor’s already cold on your bare legs, how much more on your exposed back? “Anyway, drink this water later.”

But Jisung seems to ignore you, pushing you gently away by your arm. “I’m looking at the stars, Y/N, move over.” He groans. “Turn the light off too.”

You scoff. “You can’t see the stars—” But as you look up at the purple night sky, you see countless of twinkling stars. Caught off guard, you turn your light off. “—here. Oh.”

“Do you want to lay down?” When you turn to look back down at Jisung, he’s already sitting up slowly. Moving away a little so that you’re not in his way, he then takes his jacket off and places it on the ground. “You can use my jacket. It’s fine.”

You hand him your water bottle and place your peach soju next to his horse mask. “Sure...” Reluctantly, you lay down on Jisung’s jacket.

Jisung chugs down half of the water before laying down again, next to you this time.

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask, sparing a glance in his direction as you do so. Jisung only shakes his head.

“I thought you’d never come.” He pouts, still looking at the stars. He’s slowly sobering up now, making it harder to look at you in the eye.

“Traffic.” You heave a long sigh. “Hyunjin also made Minho and I buy extra drinks.”

It’s silent for a moment, you glance at Jisung for the second time to check if he’s fallen asleep again but you see a very concentrated expression on his face as he looks at the stars. “Are you still drunk?” You shake his arm, immediately getting his attention.

“Do you like Minho?” He suddenly blurts out, catching you off-guard. What makes matters worse is that he didn’t even spare you a glance while.

“What?!” You exclaim. At this point, you just regret not drinking your peach soju before joining him.

“Do you like him? Like like-like as in...hold on, the word like’s getting too redundant here...” In the darkness, Jisung turns beet red the more he looks away from you, not even realizing that you’re equally flushed from trying to hold in your laughter.

Where is this going? You can only think to yourself as he was rambling.

“Jisung, I only like Minho when he offers carpool and free drinks when we hang out.” You sit up this time, extending your hand out past him to your soju bottle. You’re definitely drinking to this unusual conversation. “Why did you suddenly think I like him?"

You don’t remember doing anything with Minho that would make Jisung think this way.

Leaning even more towards Jisung’s direction, you see a faint glimpse of his embarrassed expression—his hand covering his eyes as he curses under his breath. You drink a little bit more of your peach soju before nudging him with the bottom of the bottle. “What made you say that?”

“No.” He replies as calmly as he can, hand still covering his face. At that moment, he wishes he could put the horse mask back on quickly so he can run away while hiding his face.

You try prying his hand away but to no avail. He looks at you on his own accord a moment later but even then he doesn’t hold eye contact for long.

“It’s silly, just the soju.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Can you lay down again so I don’t have you see your face? Not that the make-up is bad, it’s just really embarrassing when you’re looking down on me like this.”

You chuckle, amused, but comply eventually when you’ve had enough of your soju. Instead of looking up at the stars, however, you turn your body to the side so you’re facing Jisung this time.

“Yah—”

“You said lay down again, I’m laying down.” You tease in between laughs. “Are you seriously not looking at me in the eye?”

“No!” He whispers loudly in a dramatic fashion, taking his horse mask and balancing it on his face to hide from you.

You shrug, flicking his horse mask away easily. “Why are you so embarrassed? Best friends talk about this all the time, it’s normal.” You shrug as you say this next, trying to act nonchalant about it as possible. Internally, you’re still processing where this conversation could go. “I’m just wondering how you came to that conclusion? It sounds weird and gross: Minho and I, I mean.”

Jisung only looks at you quietly for the next 2 minutes, clearly contemplating. “It’s just...” He starts and you hold your breath, realizing that your faces are really close when he turns his head to your side. “Seriously, it’s silly!”

You shrug, as nonchalantly as you can seem. “I want to know, it’s n—”

“Ilikeyou.”

“Hm?” You feel lightheaded, and you definitely feel like you need to pee. Soju works fast that way.

“I like you...” He says, slower and trailing off this time. He thinks you didn’t notice but you caught the way he glanced briefly down at your lips before going back up to your eyes. “Like really really like you; but we’re always running on different schedules since we entered college and we’ve only ever hung out when my deadlines aren’t heavy enough to make you feel guilty to come over until recently.”

“...Is that why you’ve been asking to hang out more this semester?” Jisung nods at the simple question. “You wanted to see me that much?”

“Well, don’t get too cocky now.” He chuckles nervously. Suddenly, he’s overthinking everything, trying to pick apart any hint from the tone of your voice. “Because this would be really really awkward and embarrassing if you keep acting like that then turn me down later.”

Your heart skips a few beat, you’re sure it’s Jisung now and not the soju kicking in. “Who said...who said anything about me turning you down?”

Jisung’s thoughts malfunction at this. Suddenly, he’s taking too slow to process anything again. You roll your eyes at this. “Do I have to say it?”

“...yes?”

You scrunch up your face in distaste but Jisung doesn’t laugh, making you sigh. “Fuck it, fine.” You take a deep breath, slowly following your words with, “I like you too, Jisung.”

You look at him expectantly and he returns your gaze with one of disbelief. “R-really?”

“I just said it, didn’t I?” You flick his forehead.

“Can I—”

He leans forward but you stop him with a hand in between the two of you. “You smell like alcohol.” You whine, pushing him away slightly.

“But we’re in the dark, under the stars, sorta drunk at a Halloween party; naturally, the next thing that follows is—”

“Ew, Jisung, gross!” You push him away completely but he only resists, managing to hug you with one arm.

“You can say that all you want but you already said that you like me too.” Slowly, he gains his confidence back which only just makes you squirm more.

“Yeah, but you said it first.” You give up from squirming in his grip, realizing that it’s warmer than letting your torso be exposed to the cold for another second. “If anything, I actually have the upper hand here.”

He shrugs. “So? I actually like saying it. I like you, I like you, I like you...” You open your mouth slightly to comment but he takes this as an opportunity to press a long kiss to your lips. “I like you. There.”

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