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the-chicken-or-the-banana · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! There's a headcannon that has been circulating that I never saw fully written, and I love how you characterize the foxes! Basically, Andrew living the setbacks of being short (either privately or publicly), getting frustrated, and Neil comforting him

THIS IS SO FUNNY SKDJFHK also i have always wanted to write a 5+1 so tyvm for this (again, this ended up so goddamn long but. what else is new.)

read "shortcomings (honestly, fuck you tilda)" on ao3 hereeeee

———

Andrew gripped the edges of the counter. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Eye on the prize.

He squinted at the offensively orange mixing bowl that Kevin had placed far too high on the shelf earlier that day. He had planned on baking cookies (for no reason other than that he was bored), and that bowl was his lucky one: every baked good he made using it always rose perfectly.

Andrew had tried everything — stretching as far as he could, trying to move things with his mind, even going as far as going on his toes (after a cursory glance that no one was around).

He eyed the step-stool on the other side of the kitchen. He could always use that and put it back and no one would be the wiser. But no. Andrew was a fully capable adult with a reputation to uphold and he would get that bowl down by himself, dammit.

Andrew had been through hell and back, and then some. He would not be bested by cabinetry.

He rubbed his hands against his shirt before placing them back on the counter and took a running crouch. Andrew bounced lightly on his toes, mentally counted to three, and leapt up, hand reaching forward to grip at the bowl.

For one glorious moment, it really seemed like it would work.

Then the counter whacked Andrew in the gut, he smacked his head against the cabinet, and he slowly slid down to the floor, no bowl in hand.

Hmm. That wasn't supposed to happen.

He jerked his head up to glare at the stupid bowl and promptly felt extremely dizzy, slipping even further until he was collapsed entirely on the floor, limbs splayed.

That wasn't supposed to happen either.

Oh well. If he couldn't ruin his health with cookies, he might as well do it by laying on the most unhygienic piece of property he had ever seen. He supposed this was an acceptable way to go.

Andrew lay there on the dorm floor for a solid 15 minutes, willing the bowl to come down, until he heard the dorm room unlock and the sound of Neil's quiet humming filled the room. He didn't have the energy to get up though, so he flopped his legs around as Neil passed the kitchen to catch his attention.

"Oh, hey Drew," Neil shuffled further into the dorm after giving Andrew a quick glance and smile. A few seconds later, the humming stopped and Andrew saw the outline of Neil's body slowly move back into the kitchen doorway. "Um. Can I ask why you're starfished on the floor?"

Andrew sluggishly pointed upwards. "Bowl. High. Jumped. Fell."

Neil nodded knowingly. Andrew stared at him purposefully. Neil blinked.

Idiot.

"Get it for me," Andrew scowled with a well-aimed kick at Neil's ankles. Neil's eyes widened before filling with mirth. He walked forward and sat down next to Andrew's side, running a hand through his blond hair. Andrew hated himself for leaning into the touch.

"Aww, what's wrong?" Neil cooed. "Can't reach it?"

What a fucking asshole.

Andrew shot Neil a glare — he could admit that it probably wasn't super effective considering that he was on the floor with his not-boyfriend carding his fingers through his hair, but it was the thought that counted, okay! — and Neil gave him an amused look before pushing himself off the ground.

He shuffled around Andrew's limp body before giving an exasperated sigh.

"Andrew."

"Junkie."

"There is a stepstool right here."

"Yes."

"You didn't use it."

"No."

"... Why?"

Andrew shrugged in response.

He heard Neil grumbling under his breath and, a few seconds later, was rewarded with Neil's gross socks in front of his face as he went on the tips of his toes to grab at the bowl. Andrew glanced up and noticed that Neil's shorts were delightfully loose around his thighs.

Nice.

He indulged himself in the view until Neil dropped back down on the balls of his feet, holding the bowl proudly.

"Got it!" he grinned down at Andrew and flopped back down on the floor, pulling Andrew into a sitting position. Neil pressed up against him after a quick 'yes or no?' and handed over the bowl so Andrew.

"That was not fair," Andrew grumbled after a few minutes of calm silence. "You did that so easily. You're barely taller than me."

Neil nudged his shoulder and planted a kiss to the side of his head. "It's okay," he gave an annoyingly soft look. "I'll always be there to help you, whenever you need it."

Andrew huffed. "I did not ask for sentimentality, Josten. Just a bowl."

Irritatingly, this caused Neil to laugh a bit. "Okay, okay, I'll leave you with your precious bowl." He moved to get up and pressed a chaste kiss to Andrew's lips. "But for what it's worth, I think your size is perfect."

He left Andrew missing the warmth of Neil's body beside him before his brain caught up to what Neil just said.

"Josten. Josten! Was that a fucking dick joke?"

There were moments where Andrew desperately wanted to burn Neil's clothing. He understood that they were remnants of past habits that were hard to break, but surely having this many gray and brown shirts had to be criminal.

Andrew refused to be seen kissing such a heathen in public but he really only knew how to put Neil in hot club clothes rather than hot casual clothes. And so, for the sake of humanity (and his dignity), he swallowed his pride and met up with Allison Fucking Reynolds.

Their plan to snatch up Neil from the Exy court to take him shopping at the mall appeared to be going well. So far, they'd bought him some shirts, artfully ripped jeans, denim jackets, and an actually functional pair of shoes. Neil, for all his stamina, looked like he was about to collapse from the weight of the bags, so Allison and Andrew took pity on him and decided to take a lunch break.

The three of them reached the food court and made their way to a noodle shop (after Andrew extracted a promise that he could get some ice cream afterwards). He and Allison sat Neil down on a bench to guard their massive pile of bags before going up to order.

By the time they were at the front of the line, Andrew was fully prepared to stab Reynolds in the middle of the mall. In a span of five minutes, she had managed to ask him about his and Neil's sex life, when they got together, what Neil's exact sexuality was, and had Andrew ever painted his nails?

He resolutely refused to answer any of those questions, on the principle that she didn't need more money from bets than she already had.

They ordered quickly, Andrew eager to get away from Reynolds, when the cashier said something that made him stop in his tracks.

"We actually have a discount right now for kids under 12!" she said smiling. "Is that something you'd be interested in?"

Andrew squinted. Why the hell would they—

Oh. Oh no, no, no.

Allison seemed to come to the same realization that he did, because she smiled wide and tapped her nails against the counter.

"Oh, that's just perfect!" she exclaimed. "Aaron here just turned 11 a few months ago. We'll take the discount."

Aaron?!

Andrew was going to kill her.

He was still planning bloody murder as Reynolds brought their tray of food to the table. He sat down with a scowl, and though Neil shot him a curious glance, he didn't push it.

Stupid considerate junkie.

Andrew muttered a percentage under his breath and proceeded to poke Neil in the cheek with his chopsticks. After a few moments of this, Neil turned to him with a scowl.

"Andrew," he grumbled. "What are you doing?"

Andrew glared at Reynolds.

Neil gave a resigned sigh and turned to her. "Allison. What happened?"

Reynolds smirked. "Oh, nothing much. Just that the cashier thought that your boy was a literal child and gave us a discount for kids 12 and under. I told her that it was great because Aaron over there," she jabbed a finger towards Andrew. "just turned 11."

Neil looked like he was biting back a laugh but then frowned. "Okay, but arms."

"True," Reynolds conceded. "However, consider this: tiny."

The two idiots nodded like they'd figured out some indispensable secret of the universe.

Frustrated, Andrew went back to poking Neil's face; when he finally glanced back, Andrew nudged his arms and shuffled a bit closer. Thankfully, Neil actually got the hint for once and scraped featherlight fingers into Andrew's hair.

"It's okay," Neil tried. "I mean, at the end of the day, all of us are just broke college kids—"

"I'm not," Allison interrupted.

Neil rolled his stupid, pretty eyes. "Okay, most of us are broke college kids—"

"Don't you have a bunch of mafia blood money and stuff?" Reynolds asked.

"Beside the point," Neil huffed. "Fine, Andrew, you are a broke college kid—" "Gee, thanks." "— and so you should be grateful that your height is saving you some money."

"That is dumb."

"You're dumb."

"How creative."

Neil scowled and tugged on Andrew's hair. "Shut up. Drama queen."

Andrew stabbed a piece of stir fry into Neil's mouth to close that damn mouth and resolutely ignored the click of Allison's phone camera.

This was proving to be a problem.

Andrew stared at his $150 jeans, the bottom of the legs frayed and pale. He had just bought these two weeks ago. What a waste of money.

There really was only one thing left to do.

Minutes later, Andrew slammed open the door to his brother's dorm and dragged him out with Aaron demanding to know where they were going. By the time he had wrestled his idiot doppelganger to the car, Andrew was reaching. his. fucking. limit.

"Andrew, if you don't tell me where we're going, I swear I'll bite you. I'll push Neil off a treadmill and dump a bucket of mud on him. I'll throw all your ice cream in the trash. I'll—"

That last one was simply too far. He'd have to give Aaron some ground.

"Get in, loser," Andrew glared. "We're going shopping."

Thankfully, he managed to keep Aaron quiet until they reached the mall by letting him pick the music (it was country! Southern heathen). What a child.

Rich coming from you, a voice told him snidely. You can't even buy clothes for yourself properly.

Shut up, he scolded himself.

"Andrew," Aaron sighed exasperatedly when they reached the parking lot. "Can you finally tell me what we're shopping for?"

They got out of the car and Andrew raised an eyebrow as he faced Aaron. "Sex toys."

"WHAT THE FU— "

Andrew watched his brother's face turn red as he sputtered, before noticing the amusement in his face.

Aaron deflated. "Asshole," he grumped.

"Yeah, that is generally where the dildo goes."

"Shut up. I'm begging you."

Andrew decided to take pity on him and stabbed a finger towards Aaron's legs. "When did you buy those."

Aaron squinted. "My jeans?" At Andrew's nod, he looked confused. "Uh, like three or four months ago maybe. Why?"

Three or four months?! That was simply unacceptable.

"They are still in good quality," Andrew said slowly.

"...Yes?" Aaron looked lost for a few moments before his face brightened with pure, evil glee. Andrew hated the world more in that moment than he ever had before. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Are your jeans too long for you?"

"Be quiet," he snapped. "You just need to show me where you buy yours and never mention this to anyone or I'll stab you."

Aaron didn't seem as concerned as he should have been. "I don't need to do anything, dumbass. Why don't you just cuff them like me?"

"I refuse to look like a bisexual disaster."

"Hey," Aaron looked mildly offended. "That's not a bisexual thing. Right?" At Andrew's blank look, his eyes widened. "No. Oh shit. Is that why guys keep hitting on me at Eden's?"

Andrew actually blinked at that. He had not realized that his brother was really that stupid. "Aaron. Eden's is a gay bar. Obviously men will hit on you."

"Wait, it's a what— "

"Be quiet. You are coming with me now." He dragged his brother to the mall entrance as Aaron bumbled along behind him, swearing incoherently.

They weaved their way through what seemed like a million stores until Andrew walked out hours later, finally satisfied with his new haul of jeans that Aaron had oh-so-considerately helped to pick out, a few hundred dollars poorer, and two churros and an iced coffee fuller.

Andrew trudged up the stairs to his floor (perhaps this was a workout he should regularly implement in his exercise regime) while Aaron split off to find some study group or other.

By the time he reached his dorm, Andrew felt far more exhausted than the situation warranted and he blindly chucked the bags on the sofa, belatedly realizing that Neil was already sitting where the bags would land. Oops.

He sat down by Neil like the throw was entirely intentional as Neil sputtered when the plastic smacked him in the face.

"What's all this?" the junkie questioned. For fuck's sake, why did his eyes have to be so blue?

Andrew just gestured for him to take the clothes out and saw as Neil's face grew confused when he saw what he was holding.

"Jeans? Didn't you literally buy some like a week ago?"

"Two," Andrew corrected, because he was a petty bitch if nothing else. Neil rolled his stupid eyes at that but waited for Andrew to provide an explanation. Andrew heaved a regretful sigh. "The bottom of them are all frayed now"

"Frayed?" the striker's brows furrowed before his face cleared and a shit-eating smirk crossed his face. "Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you were too short for your jeans?"

Andrew nearly stabbed him right then and there.

"Shut. Up."

"Oh my gosh. Andrew. Andrew."

When Andrew got up (not grumpily. never grumpily. (okay, maybe a little grumpily)), Neil tugged on his shirt sleeve with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, sorry, I'll stop making fun," but his eyes were squinted as he tried not to laugh and his face was flushed and his lips were red as he bit on them, and honestly, how was Andrew expected to stay annoyed after seeing that?

"I mean," Neil continued. "You're paying with whatever you have left of Tilda's life insurance, right? And it's technically her fault you're so, uh... vertically challenged because of the drugs and shit. So you buying all these jeans are like a big "fuck you" to her!"

Andrew blinked slowly at his not-boyfriend's not-cute not-endearing hand-waving and decided he could take a hit to his reputation if it kept Neil glowing like this. "Josten. Are you saying that being short is literally in my jeans?"

"Holy shit, yes."

To be fair, he had been warned. This was probably his own fault. Which he would never admit, but whatever.

It had started fine enough.

Andrew had been smoking by the windowsill as he waited for Neil to come back from his class. It was raining heavily and he felt a comfortable laze settle in his bones, so he didn't bother to open the window, despite Kevin's complaints.

"Andrew, stop smoking in here. If you want to destroy your lungs, at least do it away from me."

"Shut up and watch your damn Exy, Day."

He shut up and watched his damn Exy.

Andrew let the sounds of the game wash over him as he let his eyes droop (when did Exy become... relaxing to him? That was moderately concerning), so by the time he realized that there was an incessant beeping sound in the background, everything was too far gone to not have gone to shit.

His body finally jolted into action when he finally registered that the smoke alarm was blaring in their dorm and he heard yells coming from outside in the hallway, which probably meant an RA or some other Foxes were about to burst in and see him smoking where he wasn't supposed to. For the third time this month.

Crap.

"Day. Day! Get off your fucking computer and turn off the alarm," he hissed as he (gracefully) scrambled to the kitchen to find a towel.

"Hmm?" Kevin hummed blearily. "Oh. That. Well, I told you so."

Andrew simply could not believe it. (Well, maybe he could a bit. Kevin was just that kind of asshole frie— person.)

By the time he dampened a towel (wow, they really needed to do the dishes sometime soon), the shouts were right outside the door and he heard keys jingling in the lock. Quickly he scrambled up the table, but in his haste, kicked over a glass of water (vodka? Sprite? whatever).

He tripped over slightly and his foot splashed into the puddle on the table, causing him to cringe internally. His sock felt horribly wet and tingly, and it was nearly enough to distract him from the creaking of the door opening. Quickly, he reached up, flapping the towel near the smoke alarm to turn it off.

It wasn't enough. He couldn't reach the alarm.

In a split-second, he decided to just fuck it and leapt up to see if that would work. However, the uncomfortable feeling in his feet and the stupid smoke alarm and the fucking banging of the door made him severely misjudge his strength.

Andrew jumped a lot further forward than he expected. He flew through the air, one foot catching on the top of a chair, the other stabbed by the edge of the table. In a futile attempt to gain his balance, Andrew flailed his arms around, but that just caused the towel to smack him in the face.

Eventually, gravity took hold of him and he (and the chair) crashed into the floor, the towel mockingly flopping on his hair. Blearily, he raised his head up and saw Neil and their RA staring at him concernedly from the doorway.

Well, this was awkward. At least the beeping had stopped.

Their RA, an unfortunately attractive tennis player named Richard Addams (Nicky found it hilarious that their RA's initials were R.A.. Andrew called him 'Certified Dick™'), stepped in cautiously. "Andrew, everything okay?"

"Just peachy," he grumbled.

Neil ran to Andrew's side at the sound of his voice and pushed his blond hair out of his face. "Why peaches? They're honestly not even that good; I can only stand the really big and thick and juicy ones."

Andrew froze and even Kevin closed his laptop that. "Neil," Certified Dick™ said slowly. "Do you know what peaches are?"

"Duh," he rolled his eyes. "Fruit. That's why Nicky has a peach next to my name in his contacts. Because I like fruits."

Idiot.

"It means 'ass,' " Andrew informed him. Neil gaped.

"It means wha— "

"Okay," Certified Dick™ exclaimed cheerfully. "I'm gonna leave y'all here. Andrew, I'll assume you weren't doing anything against the rules because you are a kind person who always listens to what I say."

"Of course," Andrew said blandly. "I am a wonderful student." He fingered the edges of his armbands.

Certified Dick™ slowly backed out of the room.

Neil let out a breath and blew his hair out of his eyes. "Okay," he started. "We'll talk about the ass thing later. But first, what the hell just happened?"

Andrew pointed up at the smoke alarm.

"Well, yes, I got that, but why were you jumping around like an absolute idiot?"

"Kevin is useless," Andrew announced.

"Not true!" Kevin protested immediately. "You just never listen to me. It's not my fault that I'm always right."

Andrew glared at him and turned back to Neil. "I couldn't reach the stupid smoke alarm," he finally gritted out, bracing for someone to mock him.

It never came.

Instead, Neil gave him a cheeky grin and a wink (at least, Andrew assumed it was a wink) and turned to Kevin with a faux-annoyed stare. "Seriously, Kev? You didn't help him?"

"He got himself into his own mess," Kevin shrugged.

"Okay, and what if someone had caught him? They might have not allowed him to play Exy for a bit! Or maybe while he was trying to shut off the alarm, he could have really hurt himself!" Neil was really laying it heavy on the dramatics, brandishing his arms wildly.

Kevin's eyes widened in horror at his words. "Shit."

"Yeah," Neil nodded graveley. "Us Exy players have got to look out for each other. How else will we live to our potentials?"

Kevin looked like he was going to be sick. Quickly, he whipped open his laptop and began muttering questions on how to secretly disable smoke alarms.

"Junkie," Andrew muttered to Neil. Neil just hummed and pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," he whispered a few moments later. "Only for you."

Hmm. This was nice.

Andrew never could have imagined he would be the kind of guy to stumble over furniture while kissing his way through a room, and yet, here he was, crashing into tables and upturning chairs and tripping over bags.

He had Neil's fingers intertwined with his and was dragging him through the dorm, the kisses constantly pausing because Neil kept breaking off into small smiles and laughing into his neck. Every few steps, Andrew would take a look at his flushed junkie and absolutely forget about his plan to reach the bedroom, choosing instead to kiss him ferociously right there.

They were lucky that no one else was in the dorm.

When Andrew realized that it had taken them a solid seven minutes to walk about 15 feet past the door, he realized they would probably never reach an actual bed at the rate they were going. He told Neil as much and was rewarded with a shrug.

"I literally don't care where we end up," Neil said breathlessly before pulling him into another heated kiss. "I just wanna kiss you."

Andrew nearly snorted at that. How predictable. "I got that" he muttered. "But what do you want?"

Neil raised an eyebrow and deepened his voice mockingly. "I want nothing."

"You are actually so insufferable."

"Yeah, yeah," Neil waved him off and latched his mouth on Andrew's neck. Fuck. "Hmm," he said a few moments later. "Carry me?"

Andrew resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ever since the junkie had seen how much he lifted at the gym a few weeks ago, this had become one of his favorite requests (and really, who was Andrew to deny him?).

Nevertheless, he leaned down and grabbed both of Neil's thighs, pushing him up until his legs were secured around Andrew's waist and Andrew could comfortably hold him up, his body flush against Andrew's.

Yeah, he got why Neil liked this so much.

He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold Neil up for though, considering that they actually had a game tomorrow and he didn't want to put up with Kevin's annoying complaints if he didn't try at least a bit. Andrew glanced around for a second before his eyes caught on the perfect place.

He adjusted his grip on Neil, causing him to let out an oof in surprise and carefully made his way to the kitchen (with only a slight amount of kissing in the middle). Andrew messily deposited Neil on the island counter and was promptly faced with another problem.

Neil was up there. Andrew was down here. How the hell were they supposed to make out now?

Andrew frowned slightly and tugged at Neil's collar. "Lean down," he commanded.

Neil complied and pressed a searing kiss to his lips, tugging at Andrew's hair, but too soon he pulled back.

At Andrew's 'yes or no?' Neil smiled down sheepishly. "It's a yes, but this angle's going to end up destroying my back."

That made no sense — whenever Andrew sat on the counter, he never had to lean down that much. He reasoned that the weight of being an Exy junkie was finally catching up to Neil's spine, though.

"Well," Andrew huffed. "I'm not going up on my toes."

"Why would you need to go on your toes?" Neil looked genuinely confused as Andrew frustratedly gestured at the air between them. "Wait, wait. Can you not reach me if I'm sitting up here?"

Andrew's thoughts came to a halt.

He pulled back (well, as much as he could while still staying in Neil's arms) and squinted suspiciously at his not-boyfriend. "Can you normally reach me when I sit up?"

"Well, yeah," Neil blinked. "I mean, I have to stretch a little bit but it's usually fine."

What.

Unceremoniously, Andrew yanked Neil off the counter and sat himself up (he pretended not to notice the stare that Neil gave when he flexed his arms). He hooked his ankles around Neil and dragged him closer, coming nearly forehead-to-forehead.

Forehead-to-forehead. Neil could reach him.

Andrew let out an uncharacteristic groan and dropped his head on Neil's surprisingly comfy shoulder. Neil snorted quietly and patted his head.

"It's okay, Drew," he said, his voice muffled but teasing as he pressed a kiss to the top of Andrew's head. "Maybe next time we can get you a stool or something. That'll be real attractive."

Andrew scowled and kicked him in the leg.

Neil's voice softened as he lowered his arms to rub soft circles on his back. "But I'm serious Andrew, it's okay." He pressed a soft kiss to Andrew's collarbone, the underside of his jaw, the corner of his lips. "Does this feel good?"

Andrew swallowed. Hiding from Neil was a fight he knew he'd lose, and there was no point prolonging the inevitable. "Yes."

"Then that's all I need. Making you feel good makes me feel good," he whispered. "I really like this, what we do right now. And if you want, we can still find more positions that feel really good. Don't stress, we have time."

"Hmm," Andrew said a few moments later. "That is all fine and well, but actually, we now only have about 20 minutes until Kevin comes back from class, and I would highly appreciate it if you could get me off sometime soon."

"Asshole. We were totally having a moment."

"Next to a bowl of apples."

"Rude. I bet those apples appreciated the conversation."

Andrew rolled his eyes at Neil's idiocy, but kissed him hard to convey everything he felt: you care, you listen, you are okay with me, you are safe for me. Neil seemed to get the message, because his body softened under Andrew's grip as he kissed him back eagerly.

When they finally pulled apart, Andrew felt heavy and sated and secure in the way he only associated with Neil. He looked into Neil's blown-out pupils, the blue peeking brightly at the edges of his eyes as he slowly brought Neil's hand to the waistband of his jeans.

"Right," Andrew tried for a nonchalant tone. The slight voice-crack may have betrayed him, but whatever. "Take off my pants now?"

South Carolina winters were shit.

Growing up in Oakland meant that he was pretty used to cold winters and hot summers, but usually things only got unbearably chilly at night, when he could pile tons of blankets on himself. Unfortunately, winters in the South brought biting wind and snow. All day long.

Andrew hated the cold (sure, he could walk around with a blanket draped over him like a cape in his dorm (he did. occasionally), but alas, he actually had a reputation to uphold)

And yet, when Nicky and Dan enthusiastically told Neil about their stupid plan and Neil had sent a stupid questioning gaze to Andrew's stupid face, he sure as fuck couldn't use "the cold" as an excuse to deny those eyes.

So he bundled up into a turtleneck, a sweater, a thin jacket and a snow one, a beanie, a pair of gloves, leggings and then sweatpants, and his warmest socks (Andrew decidedly ignored Neil's snickers, who was annoying dressed in just a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. how rude.)

The so-called Monsters trampled down to the parking lot outside the Tower, boots sinking deep into the snow. Andrew shivered at the sudden wind and if he walked a little closer to Neil's hot warm body — well, no one needed to know.

Within seconds of their arrival, Andrew was regretting coming out.

A massive snowball soared through the air and slammed into Aaron's face, who promptly fell on his ass from the force of it.

"What the fuck?" he sputtered, wiping snow out of his eyes.

"HA!" Reynolds hollered. "Take that!"

"Oh dear," Neil muttered. "I didn't expect this much violence from the start."

"We are Foxes," Andrew scoffed. "Violence is the whole point."

"Actually, there's this one piece of shit in my Stats class and he tried to tell me I was wrong — I wasn't, by the way — and instead of punching him, I just very mathematically proved how incompetent he was and I told him that his parents' miscalculation when it came to conceiving him evidently got passed on to him in the form of his nonexistent math skills. So. No violence."

Andrew wasn't sure if he should kiss Neil or smack him. "Right. Because verbal annihilation is a very tame response."

"Since when have you been such a peacemaker?"

"Renee."

"You two literally beat the shit out of each other every week."

Andrew shrugged. "Semantics."

"I really don't think— "

Their conversation was rudely interrupted by Matt throwing a snowball mere inches away from Andrew's face. At his glare, Matt promptly ran behind a car.

"Neil," Andrew sighed. "I hate you."

"I didn't force you to be here," Neil pointed out. "Could've said no. What did Nicky call you? 'Whipped.' So ha." With that profound statement, Neil ducked and dumped a handful of snow down the back of Andrew's shirt.

"Ha," Andrew said back smugly. "Layers." Neil looked betrayed.

"Layers. I forgot."

"I didn't."

"Asshole."

"Yup."

Neil scowled and kicked at Andrew's highly sturdy snow boots petulantly. Andrew refrained from rolling his eyes turned towards him. "Yes or no?"

"Oh," Neil perked up. Junkie. "Yes, yes."

Andrew jabbed him in the stomach and when Neil keeled over groaning, he pressed a kiss to his lips and shoved his head under Neil's chin.

"Personal heater," Andrew explained. Then he grabbed Neil's arms and tucked them around his waist. This was good.

"Right," Neil snorted. "Naturally. I can't wait until someone throws a snowball at your face and you get all cold and wet."

Andrew scowled. How rude.

"Oi, Minyard!" Dan called and Andrew sighed before wiggling around until he was facing her, back flush against Neil's front. "This is for drawing mustaches all over the pictures in the Court!"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You have no proof— "

His protests were cut off with the sight of a snowball hurtling full speed at him. He made to jump out of the way (maybe Exy was good for something after all), but Neil's arms around him proved to be a real hindrance.

As it was, he got jerked back into place, the snowball inches in front of him. Andrew shut his eyes, hoping he could use this as an excuse to drag Neil into the dorm to warm up, when he heard an "oof" from behind him.

Andrew twisted around to find Neil's face covered in an explosion of snow, water dripping down his shocked expression.

His eyelashes were nice. Hmm.

"Wh- What?" he shivered. "How is there snow on my face? Wasn't it supposed to land on you?"

Oh.

Andrew brushed off some snow that had settled on his cheekbones before stepping back a bit (still in Neil's arms. that was necessary). And Neil was right, it was odd, the snowball was supposed to hit him and instead, it had smashed itself on Neil.

"I believe," Andrew said slowly. "My height has proved to be advantageous."

"Advan— you mean you were so short the snowball literally missed you and hit me?!"

"Yup," Andrew felt extremely self-satisfied. "See, had you been shorter, this wouldn't have happened. Alas, there's just more of you to hit when you're tall."

"That— I— Andrew!"

"That's my name."

"Ugh. I am cold and wet and very much not liking this," Neil grumbled.

"Bet you wish you had as many jackets as me, huh?" Andrew crowed.

"You could always give one of them to me," Neil said as he yanked Andrew back against him.

"I could. Not feeling it, though."

"Bastard."

"Just a little," Andrew agreed. He tilted his head up to look at Neil and oh, that angle was good, his lips were right there, how did Andrew never notice that Neil's eyelashes framed his eyes so nicely?

Hmm. If this was the view, maybe his height had some... unforeseen perks that extended beyond snowball fighting.

"I win," Andrew told Neil seriously. At his confused expression, Andrew was forced to sigh out an explanation. "You are very pretty from down here."

"Oh?"

"Shut up."

"I think you're pretty too."

"198%."

"Kiss me?"

"Ugh, if you insist."

Andrew leaned up to press his lips to Neil, dutifully ignoring the cheers from behind him, as Neil placed a hand under his chin to tilt him up further, which felt very nice.

Yeah, Andrew was living the good life. He had a maybe-boyfriend who was the perfect height and a brother and cousin who might actually stay, and he was content and safe and— really fucking cold because there was a ball of snow sliding down his neck what the fuck what the fuck what the fu— .

"NICKY."

"Shit. Sorry!"

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empyreanwritings · 4 years ago

Text

A Different Side to You

Pairing: Angel!Sam Wilson x Demon!Reader

Word Count: 7k (yall this is my longest fic that isn’t a series, i’m crying)

Warnings: definitely some blasphemous talk, blood and gore, mentions of sacrifices, language

Summary: You like to get under Sam’s skin because he makes it easy, but he doesn’t realize just how far you’ll really go to make sure he’s safe.

A/N: Hello friends! This is my submission for @buckysknifecollection writing challenge, congrats again on reaching 3k bby cause you deserve every follower and more! My prompt was Flirting in Inappropriate Places, and I tried to be as interesting with it as I could asdlkfjd ! Please let me know what y’all think! I crave attention xx

Divider by @whimsicalrogers - check them out bc their edits are amazing x

"Do you pray, or is that kind of redundant given your direct line to the big man?"

Sam refused to look over at the intruder. It was bad enough you felt the need to bother him with your presence again but to do it in a church? He feared if he looked over at you, he'd throw the hymnal straight at your thick skull. That kind of behavior was unbecoming for God's favorite, and he knew better than to test his father's patience - even if you tested his own daily.

You sighed dramatically, and he heard the familiar click of your heels as you walked down the center aisle. You traced your finger against the armrest of the pews; your nails dipped in black paint occasionally leaving a small scratch on them. The wood was old and soft, it was easy to leave marks behind, and it made you smile knowing they wouldn't be able to buff it out without ruining the wood altogether. A church marked by a demon. How sad.

For the last year, you brought it upon yourself to cause trouble to Sam. Nat told you not to bother with him; she knew her father would protect him at all costs, but you couldn't stop yourself. There was something about Sam that made every part of your body feel hot - and not in the Hellfire kind of way. Maybe it was his strong will or those arms. Either way, you enjoyed bugging him because you knew you'd make him crack eventually.

It was too hard to resist you, ask any man or woman who was allowed to live after a nightly encounter with you.

"I have to say," you leaned against the pew directly in front of Sam and crossed your arms over your chest, "Orange really is your color, Sammy. I don't think I've ever seen you look so delicious before."

"Can you not flirt with me in a house of worship? It's bad enough that you are here," he hissed. "Do not disrespect my father by flirting with me as well."

"Touchy, touchy. I can see I've struck a nerve, so I'll tell you why I'm here."

Sam's brows raised, and for once, he seemed intrigued by what you had to say. "Oh? It's not to bother me?"

Part of your visit was to bother him, you couldn't deny that, but it was mostly a professional visit. Nat needed to return to Hell and deal with a few demons who were stirring up trouble. The longer Nat stayed on Earth, the more restless they became down below. Some of them even went as far as to say Nat was no longer their queen and wanted to overthrow her. And, of course, she couldn't let that happen, so she left you in charge of any earthly factions trying to rise up while she went down to control the chaos. You hated being left behind, but the company wasn't terrible.

The only way you could really get the demons on Earth under control was if you had Lilith's knife. It was the only knife capable of truly killing a demon, not just send them back to Hell to crawl their way out again. After the war between the angels and demons, the angels took the knife and hid it so no being could ever wield its power again, and you knew Sam was there when Steve hid it.

You suggested a trade: Sam loaned you Lilith's knife in exchange for one of your Souls. No one would ever be willing to give up a soul they took in a deal, but if it meant you'd get your hands on the knife, you would do it.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sam roared, his cool exterior finally cracking at your audacity to ask something of him. "You really think I am going to hand over Lilith's knife to you? You know very well that knife doesn't just kill demons, Y/N."

"I would never use it on you, you drama queen." You paused, and a wicked smile spread across your face. "Unless you asked me to, of course."

He scoffed. You felt the disgust rolling off him, and you tried not to be annoyed that the sheer thought of being with you made him feel sick. You weren't looking for him to love you, or anything like that, but he didn't have to act like sleeping with you was so terrible. It wasn't as if you could get any sort of disease - perks of being a demon, after all.

"I am not giving you the knife, so you might as well leave."

"I can wait," you purred and left your spot on the pew to explore the sanctuary. You knew it would bother Sam if you stayed any longer, so you were going to milk your time there.

The church was one of the oldest in the city. You never fully understood the separate denominations of the church, but you noticed Baptists put less work into their churches than others. The pews were old, the fabric on them was a faded green that was torn in some spots. The white walls were slightly yellowed and peeling in the corners, but you only noticed if you focused long enough. It helped that the lights, which you could see dust hanging from the top of them, were dimmed. The blue carpet on the stage was the only thing that seemed new, and even that didn't seem to be in the best condition.

You walked over to the podium, and from the corner of your eye, you could see Sam tense up. You smirked and continued on. A worn bible sat on top of it; there were tabs sticking out the side, marking several pages for future sermons, you assumed. You grabbed the end of one and flipped it to the marked page, running your fingers across the lines.

You opened your mouth to start reading, but Sam appeared in front of you almost instantly. He slammed the bible closed, barely giving you time to yank your hand back. He knew exactly what you were doing, and he refused to let you speak the words of his father.

Touchy, touchy, you thought.

Sam grabbed your elbow to escort you out, but you whirled around and faced him head on. You pressed your chest against his; you were so close, your nose brushed the tip of his. He hated being this close to you, but he made no sign of backing down. God's favorite was one of the proudest as well. A deadly sin, you chose to remind him.

He watched your eyes flick down to his lips and back to his eyes in a matter of seconds. It happened so quickly, he thought he imagined it, but he knew better. You were shameless.

"I guess I'll get going now, Sammy," you hummed as you trailed your finger down his chest. "Please wear this sweater the next time I see you. Like I said, orange is your color."

You disappeared without another word, and the breath escaped Sam's lips in a cough. Well, it was less of a cough, and more of a strangled gasp. You really had a way of getting under his skin, and he hated admitting that to himself.

He knew one thing was certain, he couldn't let you get Lilith's knife. No matter your intentions.

"What are they doing?"

You jumped at the sound of Sam's voice, thinking you were caught by one of the people you spied on, but instantly relaxed when you saw him standing behind you. You glanced back at the scene in front of you - an altar with fake skulls the group probably bought at Michael's, red fabric thrown carelessly around everything, and three men in black cloaks mumbling to themselves about Lucifer. A woman was tied to the table directly in the middle. She squirmed and screamed for someone to help her, but no one was around these parts for miles, and the group knew it. It was why they picked this spot in the first place.

"Virgin sacrifice," you grumbled. "I could smell the stench of goat's blood miles away, so I popped in to see what they were doing."

"You can't just let them-"

"Relax, Sammy. I'm going to stop them. I actually hate human sacrifices." You turned around and smiled wide when you looked over at Sam. His brows furrowed, confused by your sudden change in mood, but when your eyes looked down at his shirt, he knew what you were about to say. "You're wearing orange."

He rolled his eyes. "I had nothing else to wear."

"You're wearing orange because I said you looked good in it, aren't you? Don't be embarrassed, Sammy, you look absolutely-"

"Don't you have a virgin sacrifice to interrupt?"

Your mouth formed an 'o' as if you just remembered why you were here. You told him to wait one moment before you disappeared behind the red fabric.

Screams filled the abandoned warehouse, but they didn't belong to the woman. The stench of blood and mutilated flesh hung in the air around Sam. It was a smell he was sure you were used to, but he almost lost his lunch thanks to it. When the screaming stopped, Sam thought the worst of it was over until he heard one of the boys beg for their lives. A wretched sob and a plea to be better interrupted by the sound of him choking on his own blood.

You escorted the woman out quietly. The poor thing trembled in your arms, yet it seemed you weren't the thing she was terrified of. You may have been a demon, but the monsters were the men willing to sacrifice her in the name of someone who didn't want human sacrifices to begin with. Well, Nat only liked sacrifices if the one dying was wicked, but that was another story.

The woman thanked you, tears and snot streaming down her face as she clutched onto your torso. You grimaced but did not pull away. Human comfort wasn’t something you fully understood, but you knew she needed a good hug right now, so you let it slide.

"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" She sobbed.

Sam shook his head. He knew what you were about to say - she could offer her soul in exchange for helping her. Demons were all the same. They acted like what they did was for the benefit of others, but it always came at a price. A price the humans could barely afford. And just when he started to believe you did this out of whatever goodness you had in your heart, you were going to prove to him that you were just like every other demon.

"You owe me nothing." He sucked in a sharp breath. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. "Except…maybe don't go on dates with people you meet in cemeteries. This is New Orleans, you can meet better men at the bars."

She nodded and made her way out of the warehouse. You weren't worried about her spreading the tale of what happened today because she could be accused of murder if she did. No one would ever buy the tale that a demon swooped in and killed everyone just to save her. The witches of the French Quarter might, but they weren't lawyers who could bust her out of jail.

You noticed Sam staring at you and huffed. "What? Do you not approve of me killing those bastards?"

"No, I…" He trailed off for a moment, eyes wandering over every inch of your blood covered body. He wasn't looking at you but trying to look through you and understand why you would do something like spare that woman's soul. "I don't understand why you didn't make a deal with that woman."

You shrugged. You felt no need to explain yourself to him.

"Wait, when you offered to exchange a soul for Lilith's knife, did you even have a soul to offer?"

"Several."

"Ones that aren't centuries old."

"Why does it matter how old they are? A soul is a soul, right?"

It hit Sam that you probably haven't made a deal since you first became a demon. There was a time where Nat required every demon to make deals with people, but even she grew bored of the lifestyle. Many demons continued making deals and ruining people's lives, but Sam wondered when you stopped - and why. You spent most of your days following him around just to bother him, which meant you didn't have much time to harvest souls of the innocent. So, why? Why did you stop, and why did you make it seem like it wasn't a big deal?

You turned away to avoid any questions he was inevitably going to throw at you. You walked around the body parts and looked through the trinkets they gathered for the sacrifice. It was a long shot, but you wanted to see if they got their hands on Lilith's knife. A small bubble of excitement burst in you when you saw a black dagger resting on the table, but you knew it wasn't the right one as soon as you touched it. No magic, no power. Just a boring kitchen knife dipped in paint.

He watched you look around in disappointment. Questions bombarded his mind, made him wonder what else he didn't know about you - what else he might have gotten wrong. You were still a demon, though, and he would never be able to look past that.

When your search turned up empty, you focused right back on Sam and the dark orange V-neck he wore. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he wore that shirt for you. And you knew it.

"So," you began with a smile, "I find it adorable that you are wearing more orange for me. Very fall…very romantic, if you ask me."

"I didn't wear it for you," he quipped. "I told you, I had nothing else to wear."

"Mhm, so you said. Well, if you don't like it, you could always just take it off. I wouldn't mind." You ran your finger along his exposed collarbone, and he quickly swatted at your hand.

"There is nothing sexy about you asking me to take off my shirt when it smells like blood."

You giggled, something that should have been adorable yet somehow sounded evil coming from your lips. "You'll get used to it after a while, but I'll let you change the subject for now. I know it's probably not good for God's favorite to be aroused at the idea of taking me on a sacrificial altar."

Sam deadpanned, and you practically howled out a laugh. He made it far too easy to get under his skin. As much as you would have liked for him to ravish you then and there, you were perfectly satisfied knowing you managed to annoy him. It was the second greatest pleasure in your life, next to torturing evil assholes who thought the world belonged to them.

You tried to turn the conversation back to Lilith's knife. You hoped that your display of mercy would make him willing to give up its location, but he stood his ground. He vowed to never let you see the knife, even if you did swear not to use it on the angels. The knife's power was too much for one to handle; he couldn't guarantee that after you used it on the rowdy demon faction, you wouldn't just turn around and use it on him or his brothers. Once the knife got a taste for blood, it always wanted more.

No matter what you told him about the threats of war in Hell and on Earth, he refused you. His stubbornness made your jaw clench, but you knew when to pick your battles. When the precious humans were in danger, he would be willing to give it up. Despite not wanting for it to get that bad, you knew it was the only way.

So, you'd wait, and until then, you'd drive him crazy with your flirtatious comments.

The next few days were…off, to say the least. You spent a lot of your time trying to get a feel for Sam's godly aura - something that had a distinct smell and feel to it most angels didn't even realize - but there was nothing. Every corner you turned, every chapel you visited, was hollow. Cold and empty, much like the feeling in your chest the longer you didn't see him. You knew it was possible he was just avoiding you, but you couldn't help but feel a little dreadful.

If something happened to Sam, you'd unleash Hell on earth. You would rip through every being you had to in order to get to him. The heavens haven't seen true bloodshed until you've put your mind to it, especially if you were going to avenge your non-existent lover.

But as you sat in one of Sam's favorite sanctuaries, you wondered if he had finally grown tired of your games. He was an angel after all, and you were nothing but a demon. Scum of the earth; knight of darkness and destruction. A small voice in the back of your head reminded you that you would never be any more to him. You looked around and realized, he might not have been missing at all, he may have just decided you were no longer worthy of his presence. You weren't sure which idea hurt more, and you didn't really want to take time to analyze it.

The funny thing about sadness is that it eats you from the inside. The harder you try to push it down, the more power you seem to give it. Even as you sat there, staring at the ethereal paintings on the ceiling, you couldn't stop the sadness from burning a hole into your heart. You closed your eyes and exhaled, feeling the heat from all the Bibles burning around you. And you smiled - not fully, but enough to push down the sadness once more.

"Where is my brother?" You opened your eyes and looked over at Steve, who went to work trying to put out the small fires you set. "For the love of dad, did you really have to burn the Bibles? You could have gone for the hymnals, at least!"

You hummed disinterestedly. "Why are you asking me about Sammy? I figured he went back to Heaven by now."

"He hasn't been home in months, but he usually checked in with me. I haven't heard from him in days now."

Okay, so maybe he was missing, and maybe you were too quick to start throwing yourself a pity party, but could anyone blame you? No one had to know you were willing to burn down a church simply because you thought Sam abandoned you.

"The last I saw Sam he was alive and well, I can promise you," you purred just to get under Steve's skin. "If I'm being honest, though, I haven't seen him since then. He usually pops up to scold me when I start trouble, and I did everything I could to get his attention! I even kicked a toddler, and he never came. I should have realized he could never get bored with me; obviously someone has taken him."

Steve blinked several times, trying his best to process your words. He didn't know where to start - the fact that you both tend to end up in each other's company willingly or that you would go so far as to kick a toddler to see him. He shook his head. How Sam managed to put up with your antics was beyond Steve. He always told his brother that a demon like you wasn't worth watching over, but Sam always had one excuse or another. Lately, he claimed it was to make sure you didn't find Lilith's knife, but even that excuse was flimsy at best.

He wanted to be in your company, and it baffled Steve most of all.

"I'm not going to touch any of that," he quickly shook his head and tried to push the disturbing thoughts out of his head. "Nat said there was rebellion going on in Hell. Do you think demons might have taken him to get under her skin?"

"I wouldn't put it past them, but I honestly think if the demon faction on Earth kidnapped him it's because they want Lilith's knife."

"And let me guess you want me to give it to you."

You nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If demons are behind Sammy's disappearance, they need to be taken out. Lilith's knife can do that, and you know it!"

"You think I'm foolish enough to give a blade that can kill demons and angels to a psychotic demon with stabbing tendencies?" Steve scoffed. "You're off your rocker even more than usual."

A moment passed, and your passive façade finally cracked. You kicked Steve, full force against his abdomen, and sent him flying towards the altar. He caught himself before he landed on the podium, but he didn't have enough time to block your next blow to his side. You knew it was enough to knock the air from his lungs and catch him off guard, so you quickly grabbed his throat and forced him to his knees. His angel strength usually made him an even match, but your rage was the one thing fueling you. It was too much for him to fight off.

You squeezed until he was gasping for air and slapping at your hands. His eyes grew wide when he looked up at you and realized you were in full demon form - eyes black, teeth pointed behind your sinister snarl, and your skin slowly flaking off and turning to ash. He had never seen you like this, and for once, he feared his life despite knowing you couldn't really kill him.

You leaned in close, letting him get a good whiff of the rotted flesh and brimstone. "Let me make something very clear, Michael, you will give me that knife because the longer you wait, the more danger my Sammy may be in. And if he gets hurt, I will tear the world apart until it rains blood for eternity. You and your daddy will have nothing to protect anymore, do you understand me?"

Steve shuddered as you dropped him to the floor. The use of his real name never brought a chill down his spine until it came from your lips. He knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that you no longer wanted the knife for yourself; you wanted it to end those who dared to take Sam away from you.

Realization dawned on him in that moment. You loved him. It was something he never knew a demon could be capable of, but your protectiveness…your anger…it all made sense now. You wouldn't let anything happen to Sam, and he knew giving you the knife wouldn't be the worst idea. The other angels might frown upon it, but they wouldn't question Steve's judgement. He'd make them understand why he had to, and why you were somehow the most trustworthy person to take it.

"I'll get you the knife," he gasped. "You find out where my brother is, and I will meet you there with the knife."

You slowly turned back into your "presentable" self at his words. The relief that you wouldn't have to torture the information out of Steve flooded you. Sam would be incredibly unhappy if he knew you hurt his family, even if it was a little deserved.

"I can find out within the hour, I have someone who owes me a few favors," you replied. "Keep an eye out for my text. I'll give you the coordinates on where to find me once I know."

Without another word, you disappeared, off to cause trouble wherever you needed to. Steve stood there, hands dropped at his side and a deep sigh escaping his lips. There was one problem to your plan: he didn't have a phone.

The moon just started to rise when you stepped through the dilapidated gates of the cemetery. Fog clung to the ground, making everything damp and humid. Bits of leaves stuck to the bottom of your boots as you walked, but you didn't care. You just wanted to get to Sam.

You felt in your element, oddly enough. Surrounded by darkness, Lilith's knife grasped tightly in your hand. You knew the night would end in a blood bath. The demons weren't going to let Sam go willingly, and you mentally prepared yourself for what he was about to witness. If you lost control, even for a split second, your true form would come out again. You knew he would never love you anyways, but once he got a real look at you, whatever tiny amount of hope you clung onto would be squashed.

None of it mattered, though. You only cared for Sam's safety.

The faction waited for you in one of the larger mausoleums. They almost seemed too relaxed as you walked in, as if the party couldn't start until you arrived. You glanced over and saw Sam bound, gagged, and tossed in the corner. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and not let the rage consume you over the sight of him.

Mystique, the leader of the faction, casually hopped down from the top of the stone casket and made her way to you. Her movements reminded you of a lioness, calm and in control as she stalked closer to her prey. She wasn't scared of you, and that was the one thing you were hoping for; you wanted her to underestimate just how cruel you could be.

She walked around you in circles, taking in your presence with a hungry grin on her face. Her eyes lingered on Lilith's knife longer than anywhere else, but she made no advances to take it from you.

"I see you brought the knife," she practically purred in delight. "I'm surprised the angels were so willing to hand it over, but I see kidnapping one of their own was the best way to get their attention."

"You weren't just trying to get their attention," you replied calmly. "You were trying to get mine as well."

"Well, I did have a feeling taking your lover boy would get you here."

You refused to look back at Sam, even though you wanted to. You had to lie your way out of her trap, and you wouldn't be able to contain yourself if you made eye contact with him in this moment. And you wouldn't be able to hide any of your emotions from Mystique.

"He means nothing to me. He was just a means to get Lilith's knife."

As the words left your mouth, your chest started to ache. You silently prayed - something you never thought you could bring yourself to do - that Sam wouldn't believe your words. Whether he ever planned on loving you back or not, you didn't want him to think you only saw him as a means to an end. If he never gave you the knife, you wouldn't have cared because you got to spend time with him. That was more than enough for you.

"For a demon, you're a terrible liar," Mystique sneered. "I've been watching you two. I know the truth, and honestly? I feel a little sad for you, Y/N."

Your lips formed a tight line, and you took a slow breath through your nose. "Why is that?"

"Because you're dumb enough to think he'll fall for you one day. Do you not see the heartbreak you're setting yourself up for? An angel will never see you as anything but the perverted failure of his father, and you are dumb enough to think he could ever see you as anything else." Her words cut into you, and you had nothing to retort. She was right; you came to terms with this before you ever step foot into his life. You weren't meant to fall for him and yet…you did. You tricked yourself. "Even Nat believes she is better than us, it's why we needed to take action! Can't you see? We're your family. We're able to give you what these angels never could - power and belonging. I know you crave both despite all your past protests."

She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and forced you to look at Sam. Her lips were next to your ear, and though you couldn't see it, you knew she was smirking. "All you have to do is kill him. Kill Gabriel and we'll accept you into our group. I can be a fair better leader than Nat ever could."

Sam's eyes grew wide as you stalked towards him. Mystique's words ran through your mind on a constant loop. He would never see you as anything other than a demon; he would never be able to love you the way you so desperately desired. The longer you stared at him, the easier it was to come to terms with that. But it didn't mean he deserved to die.

"There is one thing I think you are forgetting in all of this," you finally said, turning your back on Sam to face Mystique.

"And what is that, my dear?"

You shoved the knife through her throat, ignoring the spray of blood hitting your face. The other demons stood, ready to attack, but they faltered when they realized no one was going to give them an order. Mystique was too busy choking on her own blood.

Just before the light faded from her eyes, you leaned in close and whispered, "You get on my last fucking nerve."

You pulled the knife out and let her body drop to the ground. She was gone for good this time. Wherever the beings went when they were killed with Lilith's knife, you knew it wasn't Hell; she would never be able to crawl her way back to Earth and cause more trouble.

The other demons stood in shock as you stepped over her body. They didn't want to fight in you in fear of losing their own lives, but as you flipped the knife in your hand, they knew they had no choice. You weren't going to let any of them walk out of there alive. They started too much trouble for you and for Nat. This was your way of tying up loose ends.

You gave them props for putting up a good enough fight. They weren't coordinated without Mystique telling them what to do, but they tried their best. Even when bodies started to drop, and the smell of blood lingered heavily in the air, they fought tooth and nail to get away from you. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Not a single demon stepped through the mausoleum doors alive. Well, besides you of course, but that was kind of obvious.

Once everyone was taken care of, you made your way over to Sam. You looked him over several times, and a pout began to form on your lips.

"You're not wearing orange today!" You whined as you pulled the rag from his mouth. "I thought we agreed you'd wear orange the rest of your life for me."

He let out an exasperated breath. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Well I heard-"

"If quote Alice in Wonderland and tell me all the best people are crazy, I'm going to shoot you," Sam grumbled, kicking away the ropes from his ankles in a hurry.

You beamed over at him. It was the kind of smile that made you look unhinged, and the blood spattered on your cheeks didn't help. "Ooh, gunplay? Sounds kinky, I'm in! But I'm pretty sure you don't even know how to work a gun, so I'll have to teach you."

"Please don't."

Sam took your hand and allowed you to help him stand. He had been tied up for days, and he caught himself using the wall to keep himself from tipping over again as the blood started to rush to his limbs again. He noticed how you stayed close enough to catch him if he fell over but kept your distance to give him some space. You assumed he needed a break from being surrounded by demons, and you weren't entirely wrong. He just didn't include you in the list of demons he wanted to stay away from.

You quietly let him pull himself together and got to work on piling the demons' bodies on top of each other. Not many groundskeepers entered mausoleums, but you didn't want to risk anyone finding them. You made a mental note to return with some lighter fluid and take care of the remains before the sun rose. It wouldn't please Nat to know you left bodies out in the open for anyone to find.

Sam tried to shift his weight onto one foot, and he grunted in surprise when a sharp pain shot through his ankle. You were by his side instantly, using your shoulder support most of his weight.

"Are you okay?" You asked, searching his face for any signs of discomfort.

He nodded. "I'm not sure how, but I think they might have broken my ankle. It should heal soon, though."

"Let's get you to a safe place to rest. I need to get the knife back to Steve, and we don't really need any other demons stumbling on your injured self."

"You're actually giving the knife back?" His surprise made you wince. You told him the only thing you needed the knife for was the get the demon faction under control, but he never believed you.

Because you're a demon, your thoughts reminded you.

"I told you I only needed the knife for one thing Sammy," you huffed and helped him step out into the cemetery. "I would never lie to you."

Sam said nothing, but he quietly examined the side of your face as you walked together. He wasn't sure what he felt in that moment besides confusion. Deep down, he already knew you weren't one to lie to him, but he didn't understand why. Why you went to great lengths just to save him. Why you hated virgin sacrifices and didn't take souls. Why you spent most of your time around him when you could have been doing anything else. You were supposed to be a typical demon consumed by a lust for blood, sex, and souls, yet you had proven time and time again that you were far from his expectation.

He wondered if Mystique had been right - were you in love in with him? The thought of you being in love with him made him question everything he thought he already knew.

He couldn't bring himself to understand why he liked the way you flirted him, or why he wore orange just to see you smile. He easily could have gone back to Heaven by now, but he always found an excuse to stay. To see you.

As you escorted him through the gates and far away from the stench of blood, he sucked in a sharp breath. Perhaps Mystique wasn't right about everything. She claimed Sam could never see you as anything but a demon, but as he looked up at you now, that was the last thing on his mind. All he saw was the woman he finally admitted to himself he was in love with.

You slipped into the pew beside Sam, who had fully recovered from last night's incident. You were exhausted after spending your night burning bodies and tracking down Steve to return the knife. Even he seemed surprised you gave it up willingly, but you didn't bother to banter with him about it. You were tired of the angels always thinking the worst of you.

You leaned your head against Sam's shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away in disgust, but he didn't. He sat there in silence as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax for a few moments.

The silence between you two wasn't uncomfortable. Both of you felt like you had been to Hell and back, and not much needed to be said about that. You were still covered in blood, and your clothes reeked of burnt flesh. Sam, who was fully healed, rubbed at his wrists to try and get the phantom feeling of the rope away. You almost made a joke about how a fucked up demon sat next to an equally fucked up angel, but the humor died on your tongue before you could get it out. It was just too much effort.

Sam sighed and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. "She was wrong, you know."

"About what?" You murmured so softly, you weren't sure you spoke out loud.

"About my feelings for you."

You sat up and groaned, feeling all of your muscles groan along with you. "Don't tease me, Sam. It actually hurts my feeling for you to lie to me like this."

"I'm not lying!"

"Sure, you're not."

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. The sincerity in his eyes made your stomach churn. You knew how this played out because he wasn't supposed to love you; he wasn't supposed to see you as anything but a demon. Not a single celestial being would ever approve of him falling in love with you, and you would never be able to find peace.

"Listen to me," he began with a small, hopeful smile, "I love you. Do I fully understand it? Absolutely not. You're crazy, and I'm pretty sure you kill pedophiles for breakfast. You also willingly kick toddlers, which I don't approve but…I love you."

"No one will approve us being together, you know," you whispered as if someone was already listening in on you. "Not God, not Nat, not Steve. They'll always have something to say about us."

"Then let's get out of here for a bit."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want to go." You quickly glanced to the side, and he rolled his eyes. "If you make another comment about that confessional booth, I will lose my mind."

You softly laughed and leaned in ever so slightly. You were officially invading his space, but you weren't making the first move yet. You wanted to give him one last chance to change his mind, to come to his senses or whatever it was he needed to do, before he turned his back on everything he knew just to be with you. Would it hurt? Absolutely. But you needed to know that this was going to last between you two. You weren't sure if you could live with the heartbreak of losing Sam.

"I think you've already lost your mind, Sammy," you teased. "You want to be with a demon after all."

He cupped your cheek in his hand, gently stroking your bottom lip with his thumb. It was an act so intimate, it almost caught you off guard. He stared at you silently before his lips finally met yours, and you nearly collapsed into his arms with how ecstatic you were to finally get a taste of him.

The kiss was hungry - full of teeth and breathless groans. You were exploring every inch of each other that you possibly could without tearing each other's clothes off. Sam practically came to life underneath you as his hands roamed up your side. Your name died on his lips - a prayer only you could hear. You thought about pulling back and reminding him that you were in the house of his father, but that would require you to stop kissing him, and you had no intention of stopping any time soon.

When he finally pulled away from, your chests were heaving, and you smiled over at him. He appreciated how gentle your smile seemed now. Even with the dried blood on your skin, there was a warmth in your eye that made your smile fill his chest with joy. A lot less unhinged, he would say.

"So," you pushed his back against the pew and crawled onto his lap, your knees straddling either side of his thighs, "You said we could go anywhere in the world, right?"

"Besides the confessional booth," he retorted with a smile as he caressed the side of your face.

You paused, trying to get used to him looking at you like you were the only woman in the universe. It felt odd but not entirely in a bad way. You spent most of your time denying he could ever look at you this way, and here he was, proving your doubts wrong. You weren't sure if it made you want to cry or kiss him until he caved and pulled you right into the confessional.

He claimed you wouldn't convince him, but you'd get him to crack one day.

"Besides the confessional booth," you laughed. "I spent a lot of time here, pestering you and scaring children in the cemetery. I think it'd be nice to get out of the country, explore the world a little bit."

"You haven't done that already?"

You shook your head. "I spent a lot of time staying close to Nat. She needed a strong right-hand woman, and I was the one who wanted to fill the job. I mean, Maria is great, but she's better at handling souls and all their pesky little contracts."

"Where do you want to go then? We can go anywhere you want, and we can get there for free thanks to my wings."

"Can I convince you to give the confessional booth a whirl?"

Sam sighed dramatically, not in annoyance but enough to make you laugh. "Absolutely not."

"Fine," you pouted. "I guess we can start with Greece, as long as you agree to wear your orange v-neck again."

#buckysknifecollectionchallenge #sam wilson x reader #angel!sam wilson #demon!reader #sam wilson one shot #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fic #angel au #marvel one shots #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel fics #sam wilson x you #angel!sam x demon!reader

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marauder-exe · 5 years ago

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Roommates- Sebastian Stan x Reader

Request: sebastian stan & reader are shooting a movie together in atlanta &his place gets flooded so they become roommates. at first he only sees her like a little sister since shes much younger than him (22) but then started seeing her differently while living together but doesnt realize it so he does nothing. then during the press tour and premiere for the movie fans noticed how he would look at her all the time &it got them trending in social media forcing him to finally admit his feelings to her 🙈

Word Count: 1.6k

Your eyes shot open as you heard the incessant loud knocking on your apartment door. You sleepily got up from your bed and headed towards the door. You groggily it wondering who the hell was knocking at 3 in the damn morning! To your surprise, it was Sebastian Stan. You and Sebastian had become fast friends a few months ago. You had been hired as the cool best friend in a new movie that was being made in Atlanta. Sebastian was the lead, so you would be spending a lot of time together, which you didn't mind. And soon you were close, closer to him than anyone else, and it was amazing. But why was he at your door at 3am? You were hoping it was some sappy declaration of love at 3am like you see in the movies, but you knew it wasn't, he only saw you as a sister. “Seb? What are you doing here? Come in come in” You rushed him in, turning on the lights. He had a lot of stuff in boxes with him. “Is everything alright?” He was cold and shivering. You sat him down on the sofa then you got up and went to the kitchen area, turning on the kettle. “Uh, one of my neighbours did something, not entirely sure what, but he ended up flooding the entire floor of apartments. So my apartment and a lot of my stuff got ruined, and I have nowhere to stay.” He explained. You returned to the sofa with two hot chocolates, Sebastian's favourite. “Of course you can stay here Seb, you can stay in my room” You sipped your hot chocolate and lay a hand on his arm. “I couldn't take your bed, ‘m already staying in your house, ill just take the couch” You gave him a look. “Seb” “(Y/N)” You sighed. “Fine, but I'm gonna get you lots of blankets alright” He nodded as you got up to go to the cupboard in the next room. Sebastian looked around your apartment. It was quaint, cute, full of life. You had many things hanging from the walls. Posters of some movies you've been in, certificates from childhood, even your graduation. You had graduated from a top drama school with a scholarship last year, coincidentally on the same day as your 21st birthday. It was a wild, drunken night. He smiled at the memory. Soon enough you returned with a heap of blankets in your arms. Sebastian immediately rushed over to help you with the big ball of blankets. He dropped them on the couch as you took a deep breath. You tiredly giggled and lay your head on his chest, sighing. “You sure you're alright? You did just lose your entire lively hood in water” You looked up at him. “Yeah ill be fine” He waved it off. “As long as Ive got my best girl ill be fine” He smiled down at you as you smiled back. “Come on, let's get to bed, you've had a long day” You said your goodbyes and went to bed. You stared up at the ceiling. Sebastian was living with you now. Damn. Eventually you drifted off into sleep.

You awoke a few hours later to the smell of fresh pancakes coming from your kitchen. Honestly, Sebastian was something else. You jumped out of bed, wearing shorts and a vest top, slipping on your socks. You walked into the kitchen, the smell getting stronger. You spotted Sebastian with a spatula in his hand near the oven. “Alright love, fancy a pancake?” He smiled nonchalantly. You rushed over to him and placed a huge kiss on his cheek. “Oh my gosh I love you!” You sat down at the table, chomping down on the pancake, as you heard him throw his head back in laughter. “Its the least I could do” You mumbled something inaudible because of the pancake in your mouth and he laughed again. “Slow down, (Y/N)” He said as he slipped into the seat next to you with his own pancakes, you just gave him a smile. “So, any news on your apartment?” You asked, gulping down your pancakes. He nodded his head, taking a bite of his pancake. “They called an hour ago, they said there's a lot of damage and they wont know anything until next week” You nodded along. “Well you're free to stay here as long as you need” He smiled at you. You went to put your dishes away, and for the first time all day Sebastian actually looked at you, and you were beautiful. You were laughing at something random, and he felt butterflies in his stomach. Actual butterflies. He swore that only happened in movies. He had only seen you in a sisterly way up until now, now he was seeing you differently.

“Seba! Come on!” You shouted towards your room. Sebastian came rushing out in his 3 piece suit. “Damnnnn, Sebby got game!” You both laughed. “Do I look okay?” You questioned, giving one last glance in the mirror. “Of course, you look beautiful” He gave you a kiss on the cheek “Now come on! We don't wanna be late for your first press tour!” Sebastian rushed you into the car before you set off. Sebastian had been living with you for the past 6 months, and tonight was the press tour for the new movie you guys were in. Your first press tour, and you where glad it was with Sebastian. You made small talk, talking about how excited you were for your first press tour while Seb stared at you in admiration. He was glad he was with his best friend at her first press tour. The car came to a holt outside the hall. You stared outside at the huge hall, a starstruck look on your face, Sebastian looked over to you, wonder struck, and laughed. He loved seeing that look on your face. The same face you made the first time on set. He opened the car door and jumped out, making his way around the car to open your door for you. He held out his hand and you took it. “Ever the gentleman, Seba” You cooed. “Only for you” he responded, dragging you into the venue. There was paparazzi everywhere, cameras flashing constantly. It was a dream. Sebastian grabbed your hand and you flushed, looking down. He flushed as well. “You ready Sebby?” “Ready (Y/N/N)?” You both nodded and pushed open the doors. You heard a chorus of questioning interviewers, and paparazzi shouting you over. ‘Here (Y/N)’ ‘look over here Sebastian’. You stared up at him with a gigantic smile, finding he was already looking at you, he had an arm wrapped protectively around your waist. “Im so happy” You whispered. “Me too, smile for the camera” A smile reached his eyes and he looked back toward the cameras.

You and Sebastian barged through the doors to your apartment, kicking your shoes off and collapsing on the couch. You both let out a deep sigh, exhausted from the press tour. “That was one hell of a day” You sighed. “Your telling me” He chuckled. “i don't know about you but im ready for the biggest sleep of my life” You nodded in agreement as he took of his tie. He lay on the couch with his arm around you, too tired to move. Thats how you both fell asleep, for the next 12 hours, in each others arms. Until you were rudely woken up at 11am by your phone buzzing, Sebastian stirring and opening his eyes. “’mmm you alright, love?” His sleepy voice was heaven. “Yeah, my phones blowing up though” You said with furrowed brows. “Dude you and Sebastian are trending on twitter!” You read out the message from your best friend. “Guess the press tour photos are released” He chuckled. “Lets see whats trending then” He sat up to look at your phone. You opened up twitter and number one on trending was ‘AviPressTour’ which was no surprise, but on number two trending was ‘SebastiansCrush’. You gave him a confused glance. “What?” He asked, and you let him see your phone as you clicked on the hashtag. Your screen became filled with heartbroken teenage girls, and pictures of Sebastian lovingly staring at you, with a hand around your waist. One was entitled ‘i want someone to look at me the way Sebastian looks at (Y/N), you smiled at it. Sebastian gulped as he looked at the screen. Man he hated twitter. The top news story, ‘Is Sebastian Stans new boo only 22?’ It made you feel intimidated and uncomfortable. You knew Seb wouldn't like you like that because of your age. “Wo- woah, thats- thats crazy-” Sebastian stuttered, face red. No? He couldnt like you like that. Hell Sebastian didn't even knew he liked you like that until 2 minutes ago. Suddenly, every time he looked at you he felt like he was going to burst if he didn't kiss you. “Sebastian?” You questioned tentatively, turning to face him. He gulped. “Yeah?” “You like me, don't you?” You asked quietly, as if it was a secret never to be told. He stared at you, the same way he did last night, still in the same tuxedo and dress, day old makeup on. You looked as beautiful as ever. Without even thinking, he grabbed you and kissed you, its like his body had a mind of its own. You moved against each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces. You broke apart breathing heavily. “Yeah” He breathed. You stared at him quizzically. “What?” “Yes I like you” He spoke quietly, not daring to pierce the thick air with his voice. So you kissed him, as passionate as he kissed you, and smiled. You both lay against the couch, limbs tangled into each other. Bliss.

#Sebastian #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction #marvel #the winter soldier

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shintorikhazumi · 4 years ago

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A Real Girl Chapter 2: Feelings 2.0

A/N: Just like my other story in LWA (that I can’t focus on huhuhu), I’m composing this update while in the hospital, watching over my dad. There isn’t any internet so I guess I can focus quite a bit haha. I feel like the pacing of this chapter is off, or awkward somehow? I should’ve extended the first chapter more. Welp, too late for that. I guess I’m trying to expand the background information on how this universe works? It’s quite close to canon-verse where Sayo used to not really get along with everyone, and slowly improving lately, but tailored to the Sayo of this story??? I’m braindead, I’m sorry hahaha.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

A Real Girl Chapter 2: Feelings 2.0

Sayo did not like having feelings.

It wasn’t that she hated all the mushy drama that came alongside it. It wasn’t that she particularly disliked the anxiety of having negative- and even positive- feelings. No, it wasn’t that at all.

She simply didn’t fancy the complications it brought to her practical lifestyle. She had yet to fathom such things, and more often than not, her system could not process the actions and reactions brought about by emotions. Moments when she did try only ended up in the usual overheating, and sometimes confusion and jumble of information running through her head, always rendering her unable to organize the sensory data she was receiving from her body.

She just couldn’t seem to handle all that. It was a system overload. Something she couldn’t hope to control. And control was what she understood she needed; control over this life of hers. If she could not contain the wild horses that were feelings, she could not live her life to its realest, most authentic capacity. That was what she believed. And she believed that Sayo Hikawa was incapable of having feelings.

-//-//-//-//-

The dinner that followed her regular meeting with her parents had been… fine, Sayo supposed. It wasn’t all that awkward. To her it wasn’t, at the very least. She tried to scan her other family members for any signs indicative of discomfort, and upon finding nothing unusual, she had released a small sigh of relief that did not go past her surprisingly perceptive sister.

Hina then asked her if anything was wrong, to which she would reply her usual assurances; that she was fine and there was nothing to worry about, offering a calm smile before proceeding to eat her food to hopefully signal to the younger twin that this particular conversation was over.

Hina understood and seemed willing to relent, dropping any plans of further interrogation. She instead turned to her parents, continuing one of her many ridiculous tales. This one happened to be of how she may or may not have tried to convince the school principal to go bungee jumping with her off the school’s highest building, which was probably what had been the cause of this week’s call to the office for her parents.

Sayo felt her facial muscles work to form a small smile outside her manual prompting. Something deep down inside told her it was because she was amused with her younger sister’s antics. Quite an uncommon occurrence as Hina’s antics were usually nothing short of headache-inducing.

“Feeling quite cheery, aren’t we Sayo?” Her father piped up, noticing the smile on his eldest daughter’s face. Albeit miniscule to some, to her family and friends, it was a clear indicator that Sayo was in a pleasant mood, and that made them happy as well.

For some reason, having her whole family’s attention on her made her feel warm. Warmer than “normal”. Oh, this was troublesome. Sayo had been having these heat flushes far too often lately, it truly was messing with her system.

“N-no? I… or, yes, I… I suppose I am not in a foul mood, Father.” She responded, rigid as ever, but with a stutter she inwardly cursed at. Was she experiencing lag?

Despite her words, her family had gotten used to her responses and translated it as a positive ‘yes’. That was good enough in their books.

The rest of dinner remained clear of any suspense, and each Hikawa was grateful for that.

Hina had volunteered to tidy up the kitchen afterwards as their parents were preparing to take their leave, so Sayo was left with the task of seeing the pair off by the door.

…

There were a few moments of tense silence as Sayo watched her parents. Her father avoided her gaze by leaning down to tie his shoelaces, the action taking a little too long compared to the average time; while her mother was the complete opposite, staring a little too intently back at her. She didn’t know what to make of this situation. Her sensors picked up body language cues that translated to them having something they still wanted to say before leaving, but the longer they took to make even a squeak, the more Sayo wondered if they were all just burning away the precious seconds that could have been spent on safe travel for her parents, and dedicated guitar practice for Sayo. She would have preferred spending her time wisely, even if it was a Saturday night. She had band practice tomorrow, after all.

“Sayo-“ Her father had finally began, reaching a hand up above the said girl’s head. Sayo felt her heartrate pick up, eyes glued to the motion, waiting, before her father retracted it back to his side. The action brought about a physical weight increase in Sayo’s chest area, and she almost asked her father about it; but the question died before even leaving her mouth, a different hand catching her off-guard.

Her mother had cupped her cold cheek with her warm hand, eyes glistening somewhat, searching for something Sayo could not figure out.

“Mother?”

A beat of silence.

“We really do love you.” The older woman whispered, still looking into Sayo’s eyes, still searching, not knowing if she’d find what she sought. “We really do.”

Sayo had no idea how to respond to the sudden affection, and simply nodded her head silently. What she did know was that what had previously weighed in her chest seemed lighter, though not completely gone-

That familiar large, calloused hand that belonged to her father- it now lay on her head, patting a few times before his thumb stroked the top of her head, then swept across her forehead, moving her fringe aside for a moment to clearly display her surprised face. The weight had completely dissipated, and Sayo would admit that she was slightly in awe, and curious as to if this was part of whatever update had taken place, and if her parents had a new manual for her to read so that she could better understand and control all these odd mishaps with her body as of late. They hadn’t really made those in recent developments, only verbally instructing and vaguely explaining to Sayo functions she could and could not perform.

Her musings were cut short by the words she was still getting used to.

“We love you and…” The man she labelled as her father started, “We’re sorry we’re late”. She felt her brows furrow, a wrinkle forming between her eyes.

“What do you-“ Before Sayo could even ask what those words had meant, Hina’s familiar singsong voice had interrupted the exchange.

“Huh? Why are you guys still here?” Seeing as she was now here, Sayo inferred that the Kitchen and dining room had been cleaned up, and that they had lingered by the doorway for far longer than she thought.

The ribboned girl looked between her parents and sister, confused at the atmosphere shrouding them.

“S-sorry, sweetheart. Just had a lot of things to remind your sister.” Mr. Hikawa smiled, moving forward to wrap his younger daughter in a hug. “You know, reminding her to take care of you, and not overwork herself.”

“Oh yeah, Onee-chan does that a lot.” Hina agreed, seemingly buying it. “I do try to tell her to have fun and stuff, but she never listens!”

“You never listen to the voice of common sense, either.” Sayo quipped. “And your idea of fun is fairly life-threatening.” She whispered the last part to herself.

“Anyway! We also had to talk the usual budget for you guys, and just… stuff.” Their father finished the little white lie fabulously.

“Right!” Hina nodded, believing every word… probably.

With a cough from their mother, Hina escaped her father’s hold and gave the eldest woman a gentle, but enthusiastic embrace.

Once over and done with Hina’s affectionate goodbye’s, the Hikawa couple bid their daughters a farewell, leaving hand in hand until their figures escaped Sayo’s line of sight.

Breaking out into a sigh, Sayo locked the door behind her as the twins headed for their respective rooms to retire for the night.

Sayo felt dissatisfaction stir within her. She had so many questions she wanted answered when she found that it was time for her parents’ regular visit, but now that they had left, she had even more than what she started with instead of less as she had planned.

Mumbling her goodnight to her sister, she closed the door to her room with a silent click.

Unlike her usual graceful manner of carefully sitting or laying down on her bed, Sayo had unceremoniously plopped face-first into the soft mattress, once more unknowing of the reasons as to why she performed this action.

Something was off with her lately. Even more-so after these last few updates. She seemed to be dancing to subconscious promptings, acting with less thought and calculation than she usually would- should, according to everything that was initially written in her learning manual.

She had thought her parents would spot these errors without her having to mention it, but somehow it seems things had only gotten worse.

The way the two were acting towards her lately only further supplemented her confusion. All these ‘we love you’s were not something she was used to, at all. She had only begun to get comfortable with Hina’s overbearing affection the past few months, and now her parents were being… odd.

Burrowing her face into a pillow, Sayo found herself thinking back to her past as a child. She had always known that there was a difference between her and Hina. There was a difference between how her parents addressed her, and how they fawned over her younger sister.

She recalled the stiff interactions, the formal instructions, the commands, the rare, but still awkward praises when she accomplished tasks she was supposed to better than expected, and the… times she would look on from afar as her sister received what she later on learned to be “hugs” from their parents.

Something she never had the pleasure of receiving as a small child. At least from them. Hina- bless her soul, Sayo would now say- was the only one willing to ‘teach’ her these things. Other kids at school never bothered to interact with her either. She was too expressionless, too scary, too serious, too-

Too Unhuman.

She would’ve laughed had it not been such a hurtfully accurate notion.

In comparison to her experiences, through clear lens, Sayo observed that Hina and their parents communicated with warmth; how the girl was guided with affection and encouragement, and lifted up due to her sheer genius.

In all honesty, Sayo had to admit she envied Hina then, that genius she had. She sometimes pondered the thought of being programmed to perfection, without flaw, weakness, or struggle. Would that have made her a genius too, at least in the eyes of normal men? Would that have earned her praise even if it wouldn’t matter to a freedom-less girl like her? -Was she even a girl at this point?

She might not be.

Still, she envied it quite a bit. Yes, the fact that Hina was a genius was what she was jealous of, nothing more.

She had read on it in an article once; how children could often feel jealous if attention and care were not distributed fairly by parents, leading to feelings of neglect and lack of relational connections. Had Sayo been a normal girl, maybe this would’ve been so; however, she believed that it would not apply to someone like her… someone like her… something like her…?

After all, there… was no reason for her to desire anything like love, adoration, or care, was there? Being able to perform as she was designed to, being able to do what she had to- those were what mattered in this “familial” relationship between her and her parents.

Right?

…

Rolling onto her belly, she stared up at her ceiling, body not up to the usual task of devoted guitar playing for tonight, it seemed.

She sighed.

Blinking once, twice, she noticed and remembered that up on her ceiling were glow-in-the-dark stars that Hina had insisted to put up in Sayo’s room, along with a lone crescent moon that paired with Hina’s sun in her own quarters. For some reason, she couldn’t help but compare that to their own social situations at the moment.

If people were stars, Hina belonged with the stars as the sun was still a star. It might be more prominent and more known to most inhabitants of the earth, just as Hina was someone popular to many, even to strangers; but still, she was one of them. Even if she had to shine alone in the morning sky, people still knew she was- and still grouped her as- one of the stars. She was most definitely a star too.

Sayo, however, could not relate. Hina had told her she was the moon, and even if it tries to shine alongside the stars, it will not- and never be- a star. And in the moon’s moments, where the city lights drown out all the stars, even the moon’s shine is dulled and it is truly alone; and though it is seen on the same stage, in the same night sky, no matter how much it would try to blend in with the crowd… it would never be a star.

Sayo would never be a star.

Another sigh. A toss. A turn.

Again, her line of thinking drifted to the changes she and her family seemed to be going through. Somehow, she found life somewhat easier back when everything had been so professional. It may have seemed like she was neglected and alone, but such negativities could be adapted to, could be grown out of. Sayo could simply get used to it, suck it up like the mature person she was, and move on. Or at least that’s how it was to the outside onlooker. To Sayo, it was just normal for there to be distance. She wasn’t really a part of their family.

She wouldn’t be able to understand it anyway.

So why did everything have to take a turn?

Actually… When did everything suddenly take a turn?

Was it when she had first met Yukina? Was it as Roselia progressed into a proper band? Or was it when they became friends, bound by music, never to be broken apart?

Was it when Lisa stepped up to help her with Hina after Sayo had gone too far with her distancing? The gentle hand on her back, drawing circles as the brunette listened intently to her confusion and woes, and taught her a little bit more about what relationships were? Was it that?

Sayo had no clue.

One day, everything just seemed to morph; her reality was changing. The improvement of her relationship with Hina may have marked the most significant wave of change. Sayo found herself able to decipher her constant home companion bit by bit. She could guess what the girl was up to, she could figure out her moods, and keep up with her whims (she hoped).

Then suddenly, her parents showed up more often than the usual check-ups. They listened intently during Sayo’s parent-teacher conferences, they no longer constantly reminded her of their expectations for her, they would actually send her messages outside the usual appointment updates, or information briefing, or requests. They would tell her how they saw a guitar model that Sayo might like; texted her that if she wanted anything for Christmas, she could tell them.

She would catch her mother’s stare many times, before the woman offered her a nervous, or kind smile. Her father would constantly ask her about her preferences for updates.

And what unnerved her most of all, was the fact that they had been offering her physical affection (sure they were limited to pats, touches, or handholds, but it was odd enough) and constant “we love you”s. Something they used to only do in public setting to show that the family was on good terms with one another.

-not saying that they weren’t, because Sayo deemed that her being alive was enough proof that they were on good terms.

…such a scary thought, she now realizes.

Anyhow, it just so happened that even in private, her parents were now actively performing those aforementioned acts towards Sayo. Were they trying to build rapport with her? Trying to get on her good side? She had no complaints about their relationship in the past, so why did they have to try to change it up now?

And of course, the thing that bothered her the most… feelings.

Suddenly, the “feelings” prompts in her mind were no longer just emptily flashed words of alert with instructions on how she should act. They now did all these odd reactions to her body, made her lose her control, put errors in her usual calculations.

She didn’t know whether she liked it or not.

There was something within her whispering that this was what she wanted. Because it made her real, or at least pretend to be…

But her practical mind told her it would only serve to continue to burden her. This, she truly believed.

If that were so, why couldn’t she have it removed? Whatever program in her that involved these dreaded feelings? Her parents had told her she could always express her desires when it came to her recent upgrading. She was told she could ask for anything. So why wouldn’t she ask for one simple removal? One that would solve all her current distress, and quite possibly benefit her by giving her the efficient life she wanted?

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know why she was trying to cling to fragments of a false reality, a world where she wasn’t what she was. A lie in which… she was a real girl.

She just didn’t know.

And to these thoughts, her world shut down.

-//-//-//-//-//-//-

It was the weekend; what most students considered their free time- time to waste, time to slack off. They simply had so much time, away from the usual school day. And simply having this much time was all the more reason for Roselia to spend it on practice instead.

Sayo arrived early. She always did. It was part of her internalized time-table. She had one for almost all occasions. For school, for weekends with student council work, and without. Today, her schedule consisted of waking up, preparing breakfast, washing up and getting dressed. Then she would eat, get on the seven-forty-five train, arrive at circle and ask for the reserved room, grab a sweetened coffee by the vending machine, down it in ten, and enter the practice area to tune her guitar and do warm-ups until everyone else arrived. Everything she did was performed on the dot, down to the very last second.

There were days where tiny deviations from her predicted happenings occurred, but nothing that would throw her off completely. They sometimes came in the form of any other member arriving earlier than her. In the case of Minato Yukina, she guessed it wouldn’t be all that odd. At the beginning, they would simply regard one another with a small nod before continuing onto their individual warm-ups. As Roselia’s relationship improved however, they often exchanged small talk, or opinions on the band and each other’s personal progress, seeking advice. If it were Ako who got there before Sayo, she would only pray that nothing was out of place, and that there were no soda spills on the carpets. She’d rather not have a repeat of one certain incident.

Rinko and Lisa were rarely the first people in the studio. Sayo dealt with is as it came. They would offer greetings and pleasantries, and focus on warm-ups, and that was it.

Or well, that was then.

It came little by little, but things were certainly different now. There were days when Sayo would come in just a few seconds before an Ako barreled right into her, apologizing, but not letting go without a quick hug around Sayo’s waist, and irresistible puppy eyes that almost always asked Sayo to pat her head before the younger girl would break out into a grin, satisfied, and ready to warm up. She really did remind Sayo of all the videos of dogs she’d watch out of some form of habit, possibly; filling up a personal database file all on their own.

Rinko, she-…

Well, she wasn’t as scared of Sayo anymore. That could be noted as some sort of improvement. It wasn’t as if they never got along before, but work in the student council felt just a tad bit more relaxing, and quite enjoyable lately, if Sayo were to be honest. Rinko was like a breath of fresh air amongst everyone else’s eccentricities- including those other band girls outside their own.

Then… there was a pair that had suddenly been throwing her for a loop.

Minato Yukina and Imai Lisa. One so cold and aloof, avoided like a harsh winter day; and the other heated and sociable, passionate in dance and music like the summer… At least, that was how Sayo saw them at the beginning.

It came as sudden as all the other surprises in Sayo’s present life. Sayo spotted a silver songstress on her knees in a hidden corner of the park, leaning down towards a tiny kitten in what she saw was a shared eskimo kiss. She felt a stall between the beats of her heart. And it became a memory she’d never forget, sometimes replaying itself in her moments of slumber. Sayo realized that Yukina wasn’t just the snow, she was also the spring that came in turn right after.

The bassist, on the other hand, proved to also be the fall. A beauty to behold, making you forget the coldness it actually had. Lisa had days where she would doubt herself; days where her silence would issue warning sirens in Sayo’s poor confused system, prompting her to offer gauche comfort- the only kind she could manage in her uncertainty.

It didn’t help that the girl wore the scent of cinnamon and pumpkin spice pie, and all the sweet little guilty pleasures hardwired into Sayo’s poor mind (It was a weakness she would never admit to- she wondered if her parents added such a detail in the blueprint for personal amusement); and the fact that she’d casually offer an embrace that caused those fragrances to overwhelm the stiff guitarist was an additional trigger, along with a Yukina who smelled of vanilla and cookies- though the latter was probably just due to the crumbs from Lisa’s treats that the unexpectedly clumsy leader of Roselia got all over herself.

She often tried to ignore the way Lisa would cling to her and Yukina’s arms as they walked to or from the studio, or to a gig; she would try to ignore the warmth that suddenly spread from the point of contact between them to her entire body. She would also ignore the jitters and “flutters” she would feel when her eyes would meet Yukina’s mid-song, and the tiniest of smiles would play on the singer’s lips and- was that a wink, Minato Yukina?!

It irked Sayo that almost everything she had gotten used to and inputted into her data bank of memories over the course of her seventeen- eighteen years of existence were slowly changing; herself and Hina, their parents, and now, even Roselia and the rest of their girls’ band peers. Heck- even the students at school had begun to greet Sayo as she monitored the halls (which was already quite the feat, as they usually screeched or shuffled their merry way out of hers), even when she wore her usual- as Lisa and Hina so fondly called- “resting bitch face”; stoic and devoid of emotion.

How could everything just be so confusing-

“..yo? Sayo! Sayo?”

Ah. This voice sounded plenty confused as well.

“Sayo, is something the matter?”

A hand on her shoulder, and another in a worried clasp around her bicep, pulling her to spin around, face-to-face with furrowed green eyes almost matching her own.

Had she been lost in thought?

“Imai…san.” Sayo regarded with a slow nod, each syllable carefully spoken.

A hand shot out to touch her forehead, accompanied by the concerned question of, “Are you sick?”.

Well, good morning to you as well, Imai-san.

Despite the lack of proper greetings from everyone, the guitarist decided to simply answer the question before things went for worse. Sayo shook her head no, the action allowing her eyes to notice that the room was complete with all of Roselia’s members staring at her, perplexed at the bizarre, unusual Sayo they had just stumbled upon, guitar slung over her shoulders, but staring at a blank wall for who-knows-how-long before the rest arrived.

“Are you sure?” Lisa pressed, though that wasn’t the only thing she was pressing apparently, as one of Sayo’s hands was clasped between both of Lisa’s and was currently held against her fairly mature che-

“Sayo, I believe we’ve had a talk about this before, but if you are sick, one must not overexert themselves as this would trouble our band in the long run.”

“Yes, thank you, Minato-san.” –‘for taking my mind away from somewhere I’d rather it not be in.’. Sayo completed the sentence silently, hoping no one suddenly developed the powers of mindreading. “But still, I am fine and most certainly healthy.”

“You are most welcome.” Yukina gave in reply. “But I also don’t believe you all that much, Sayo. Not with your history of overwork.” Stepping in closer, the shorter girl took Sayo’s other hand in her own, giving it a squeeze. “So do tell us if you need a break today, and you shall have it.”

Oh, it had started again. Those thumps and irregular skips in Sayo’s pulse, the desire to run to the comfort room with her coolant for just a bit, the shaky breaths.

“I- I truly appreciate your kindness, but I am certainly fine and I would love to never burden you with something like a missing member due to negligence with my health.” Sayo once more tried to convince them of the truth. It was difficult.

“Really?” Gold and green interrogated, moving the slightest bit too close into Sayo’s personal space and mental safety barrier. Did they really not trust her to regulate and discipline herself with her health, much more after her first blunder?

The answer seemed to be yes.

Even Rinko’s tiny whispers of, “Hikawa-san” relayed her sincere worry for Sayo’s well-being, along with Ako’s less-than-subtle fidgeting. And while she was grateful for their sincerity, it felt a bit overbearing.

Sayo sighed for… some numbered time now. She’d done that a lot lately.

“Really.”

That seemed to have worked as everyone visibly relaxed, Ako and Rinko continuing on with their set-up and warm-ups. Sayo would have hoped that this would influence the other two in front of her to do the same; and they did. They did get to that…

But not without a gentle squeeze on her hands, a pat from Yukina, and a blown kiss from Lisa that only made it feel much hotter.

And why this was?

She still could not fathom.

And she hated that fact.

-//-//-//-

She would definitely have to apologize later.

Practice had gone nowhere. Sayo’s perfect, calculated playing, everything done with precision and a charm solely hers… it just wasn’t there. And all because of her damned updated mind that kept bringing up two pairs of warm hands, and faces that seemed to be glowing in her eyes. Then there was the matter of Lisa’s… upper… half…

“We stop here for today.” Yukina’s usual stoic voice commanded, though Sayo could hear the frustration oozing out. She clearly was not pleased, and that was all because of Sayo’s lackluster performance.

Everyone nodded in reluctant agreement, each moving to fix up their instruments, securing them in their cases.

As they were ready to leave, lights turned off and door open in wait for the guitarist to be the last member to step out, Sayo spoke, stopping under the shadow of the darkened room in a bow. “I apologize. I’ll do better next time. Today’s subpar performance was clearly due to my lack of concentration and I shall do my utmost in correcting my-“

“Sayo.”

Said girl looked up from her perfectly ninety-degree bow.

“It’s okay.”

Scanning each of her bandmates’ faces, their expressions all responded with the same thing.

It’s okay.

“Really, Sayo-san, you should tell us if you feel a little sick! You work so hard, taking a break shouldn’t be a problem for you!” Ako laughed, but it had this little nervous color to it that expressed her care for Sayo.

“Ako…chan… is right. Hikawa-san… you already… play so well. You’d never…fall behind even if… you missed one session.” Rinko gave one of her most comforting smiles, and Sayo felt the desire to smile back. And she did.

“Even if I held you all back?” Sayo asked.

“What nonsense. A member of Roselia would do no such thing!” Yukina stated with conviction. “And in the impossible case that you did,” She grabbed Sayo, pulling her out of the dark room, and into the light, in the bright hallway with everyone else. “-then we’d pull you right along. We’d do that for each other, for any comrade.”

“She’s right. We’d do it in a heartbeat.” Lisa latched on to her arm, resting her head slightly on Sayo’s shoulder, almost nuzzling the spot, which would have been bad for Sayo’s processors. “I’m sure we all feel that way.” The brunette added good-naturedly. But those words held a not-too-pleasant weight for Sayo.

‘We all feel that way.’

All.

Feel.

“Right. Of course.” Sayo nodded, covering up the sudden shakiness in her legs by taking a firm step forward, still attached to the two same-year best friends.

Like wild horses being held back that suddenly broke their fence, her thoughts ran. Roselia trusted her. As a teammate, a bandmate, a comrade… a friend. So how was she to tell them she wasn’t like all of them. That she didn’t know how to feel? How was she to explain that their warm, heartfelt sentiments were things she could not return genuinely?

How could she explain that the so-called emotions she portrayed were automatic, programmed responses? How could she possibly tell them that even she did not know her own sincerity towards the band, how she no longer knew if what she was doing was out of necessity and a must for self-preservation- a “professional” type of relationship; or if it was because she harbored what they had in their own souls. A love for other people.

No. It couldn’t be that.

She knew what it was. But that was textbook knowledge. She could never apply that to her own understanding and utilization.

She wasn’t meant to be able to do that. It wasn’t in her manual. Feelings never were. No matter how many years had passed. She’d never get to understand it.

Humans smile because they are happy. They cry when they are sad, they get angry because of unpleasant things. These little facts were what she was introduced to as the basis for telling emotions.

But then Hina smiled even though Sayo hurt her; Lisa cried when they got her flowers she loved for her birthday, and celebrated with her. Yukina got angry when another presumptuous producer offered to take them to a world stage.

It didn’t make any sense. Their reactions brought about by feelings were nothing like the manual. They were nothing so simple. They were so complex.

Too complex for a non-genius… nonhuman, non-girl like Sayo to understand.

But how could she say that to people who trusted her? That she wanted to offer a genuine trust in return to, but couldn’t possibly do so.

Again, she was far too deep inside the caves of her mind, peripheral sensors crippled to the world causing her to misstep, lunging forward for a faceplant-

…that never came.

Two bright smiles, warm eyes, and soulful emotions.

They teased and taunted, made Sayo heat up, heart threatening to explode at the sheer speed it pumped, but the notions also enough reason for her blood to run cold with unjustified envy- one that should not be able to exist within the teal-haired girl either. Because why should they be able to feel the way they do and bask in the enlightenment feelings brought. Why couldn’t Sayo? But then again, why did she care when it shouldn’t have mattered to her in the first place?

Confusing. Vexing. Frustrating.

And as Yukina held one of her hands, and Lisa clung to the other just as they did hours earlier, Sayo only felt more disdain for the concept she labelled as “feelings”. They made her bitter deep down, not because of their good intent, but that she knew not what these meant. They just weren’t for her. Feelings would never be hers to attain, they would never let Sayo own them; understanding of them constantly slipping from her grasp.

So she ended up hating them. Hating having feelings. Hating feelings.

Feelings that could never be felt by Sayo’s cold Mechanical heart.

A/N: And that’s a… wrap?? I honestly… was stuck. I guess I’d rather treat this as chap 1 and the other as the prologue haha. My brain is so dried out tbh. Um… reactions? Comments?

~Shintori Khazumi

#hikawa sayo #sayo hikawa #hikawa hina #hikawa twins #yukisayolisa #sayolisa #yukisayo #minato yukina #imai lisa #fanfic #ARG #bandori #bang dream #mechanical? au

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randomk-imagines · 6 years ago

Text

Blue and Purple

words: 6.5k

genre: soulmates, friends to lovers, slight angst (but not really), a little Markhyuck

summary: different soulmates get different connections and yours just so happens to be getting the same cuts and bruises as the other.

a/n: Uh idk how I feel about this and also how did it come to be 6.5k??? Also, some swearing, but what’s new (:

gif creds

You were told that on your 19th birthday, you’ll be connected to your soulmate. The connections varied with each pair. Your parents’ connection was a small tattoo on their wrists they had woken up to one day. Your sister’s was the ability to telepathically communicate to hers. You’ve read that some people are able to draw on their skin and it will show up on their soulmate’s skin as well. Some can even see a red string appear when they wake up.

You were excited about what kind of ability you’ll end up with. Maybe you’ll be able to talk to them. Maybe you’ll find a thin, red string tied around your pinky finger that leads to them. Maybe you’ll have a timer and when it ends, you’re supposed to be able to meet your soulmate then.

When you wake up on your 19th birthday, you don’t expect your limbs to ache and have your body littered in bruises.

You try to recall when you would’ve ever fallen down or even had gotten hit by a ball or something. You were a little clumsy, but yesterday was Sunday and you had nowhere to be. How could you have possibly gotten all these bruises?

Your mom comes in with a plate of food and a bright smile on her face when you’re standing in front of your bedroom mirror to inspect your blue and purple patches.

“Aww honey, you’ve got your soulmate connection,” she coos.

“This is how I’m supposed to find my soulmate? The person covered in bruises?” you scoff. Unbelievable.

You currently have your head laying down in your arms, sulking, waiting for class to start when your best friend, Jaemin plops down in the seat next to yours.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he beams. You bring your head up and pout at him. “What crawled up your ass?”

“I think my soulmate got hit by a truck,” you grumble. Jaemin gives you a wtf look.

“What makes you say that?” he huffs out a laugh.

“It’s the only conclusion I can come up with. How else did I end up with bruises all over my legs and arms and even some on my side? They hurt and I’m mad at my soulmate.” You plop your head back down on your arms.

Jaemin snorts. He’s about to make a comment when he sees a glimpse of a bruise on the top of your shoulder where your shirt slips down a bit. He squints at it curiously then glances down at his own bruised shoulder.

It’s the exact same bruise.

His insides start churning as he gulps down on air.

You can’t be his soulmate. You were always so excited to find your soulmate, yet all he’ll end up causing you is pain? He can’t do it. He can’t cause his best friend of six years, the girl he’s liked for four years, his apparent soulmate pain just because he stubbed his toe or knocked his hip into a wall.

He’s weighed the pros and cons of dating his best friend and every time the cons came out on top. What if the relationship didn’t work and you ended up hating each other? Stopped being friends? He couldn’t deal with that. But apparently, the universe said a big “Fuck you,” and decided to make you his soulmate.

“Maybe they’re just clumsy,” Jaemin shrugs. “I feel bad for whoever is your soulmate. You fall constantly. They probably have bruises from you tripping over your own two feet every day.”

Your frown deepens and you punch Jaemin in the arm a little harder than usual. He flinches from the sudden punch and hisses in pain at the same time you jump as well, a sharp pain striking your upper arm as well.

He glances over at you and sees you flinch as well, only confirming even more that you two are connected. You, however, scrunch your eyebrows together, not understanding what happened. You look around your surroundings to see what you knocked into, but don’t see anything. Your desk is clean.

You shrug it off. It probably fell asleep from you laying on it.

“What happened to you, Jaemin?” Mark asks, pointing to the giant bruise on Jaemin’s side. His shirt was hiked up from reaching for a book in the library, revealing a small portion of his side.

You look up from your laptop just as Jaemin’s shirt falls back in place.

Jaemin glances down at his side then back up at Mark sheepishly.

“I fell down my stairs yesterday,” Jaemin chuckles awkwardly.

You and Mark shake your heads together, disappointed, but knowing him, not surprised. He was probably texting or just being an idiot while he was walking and ended up falling down.

“I feel bad your soulmate is gonna have to put up with that,” Mark tsks. Jaemin knows Mark is referring to him being a walking hazard but he can’t help the spike of nervousness and fear at his words.

Jaemin shoots a nervous glance at Mark then glances over at you. You don’t seem to take in Mark’s comment as you go back to working on the paper and Jaemin lets out a sigh of relief.

Jaemin sits down across from you and starts reading the book he’d just picked up. He starts absentmindedly swinging his legs out of habit when he hits the table leg. A loud thunk sounds and he flinches, but you end up flinching even more.

“Are you okay?” Mark asks you.

“I think my soulmate is trying to kill me,” you hiss at the sharp pain in your shin. Jaemin bites his lip, feeling once again, horrible at being so careless.

You and Mark don’t notice his internal turmoil and get back to work after cussing out your mystery soulmate.

“What’s your soulmate link?” You ask Mark.

The three of you are laying down on the roof of Mark’s house just star gazing. His house is practically in the woods so it’s a nice spot away from the light pollution.

“I’m able to get glimpses of their day. It’s strange. I don’t recognize the places.” He shrugs. “I’ll find them eventually.”

“What if they’re watching the same movie as you and you see that same movie then bam! You found them.” Jaemin says, his hands making wild gestures in front of him.

“What do you think your connection will be?” You curiously glance at Jaemin.

He stops moving his arms mid-air and looks at you. He nervously gulps.

Should he tell you that he already knows who his soulmate is, even though he’s a few months away from being 19? Should he tell you that his soulmate connection will be feeling the physical pain you feel? Should he just spill everything and tell you that he’s liked you for years even though you’ve, very honestly, spoken about how dating friends is not an option because you don’t want to stir up any drama through fights or break-ups?

“Uh maybe I’ll have a timer,” he shrugs. He mentally kicks himself for being so afraid. You’re his soulmate. You obviously have a connection to each other, but that doesn’t mean you have to be together...

“Woah, that’d be so fun. You’d know exactly when you meet your soulmate!” You beam at him. He just gives you a small smile back.

“Yeah. Fun,” Jaemin sighs.

The three of you graduate high school and finish your first year of university and you still haven’t figured out your soulmate.

It’s frustrating, really.

Mark found his soulmate when the three of you were at the university’s cafe and he was able to see himself sitting at a distance. He quickly looked around the entire cafe, confused and intrigued at the same time because he was finally near his soulmate and it seemed that his soulmate was glancing over at him already.

They instantly clicked and Mark’s soulmate, Donghyuck, was warmly welcomed in your trio. You and Donghyuck quickly became close and in fact, you were currently laying down in his dorm room right now, sulking.

Jaemin and Mark were still class and you had finished your homework, so you decided to chill with Donghyuck. Chill, as in, complain.

He became the one you went to with your problems since he always gave out good advice and comforted you. He could really be a handful sometimes, but he was a great friend when he needed to be, like now.

“I just don’t understand. How am I supposed to find my soulmate with these cuts and bruises?” you huff out. The two of you were on his bed, your head resting in his lap while he was playing on his phone. “I’m just so tired of not being able to find them,” you pout.

“Have you looked around to see if anyone has the same marks as you?” he asks.

He had quickly figured out that Jaemin was your soulmate within a few days. The bruises really gave it away. He doesn’t understand how you don’t see them. He’s also quickly figured out that Jaemin likes you. He’s not very subtle about it. He glances over at you when you’re not looking and he’s always following you around like a lost puppy. You’re just really dense, he’s concluded.

Mark, Jaemin, and Hyuck were together while you were still in class when he asked Jaemin about it, purely out of curiosity. Jaemin told him everything and said he didn’t want you to find out and end up being disappointed in realizing it was him. For the next three hours, he and Mark tried convincing Jaemin that you wouldn’t be disappointed, but it fell deaf to his ears.

“Of course I have but do you know how hard it is to find someone with the exact same bruises as you without looking creepy?” you groan. “Soulmate connections are dumb. Why do we need it anyway? Are we just not capable of finding someone on our own?” You scoff.

“Well, they’re there for a reason. Whether you chose to seek them out or not is up to you,” Hyuck shrugs. “But I really think if you just stop and look around, you’ll be able to find them.”

You glare up at Donghyuck. It’s not the first time he’s said that to you and you’re about to smack him and tell him to just say what he means. You’ve looked all over the place. It’s literally all you did for an entire month when you entered university, yet no one seemed to have the same bruises as you and when it looked like they had similar ones, they ended up already having found their soulmate.

It was always frustrating and disheartening when you asked them about it or whenever you saw other people with their soulmates. Heck, even your best friends had found theirs!

You just wanted to find your soulmate, yet they didn’t seem to want to find you.

“You’re late. Got caught up in the library again?” Mark shakes his head when he lets you into his dorm room.

It was Friday meaning it was your friend’s movie night. You all had decided on making a movie night when the four of you all agreed that parties weren’t your things and you wanted to procrastinate your homework for just a little while longer.

“Kind of,” you say as you toe off your shoes. You follow Mark into his room and plop down on his bed next to Jaemin while Mark settles down on the ground next to Donghyuck. “I met someone,” you say as you lean against Jaemin’s side, preparing yourself to fall asleep to the movie Mark picked out.

The three of them all turn towards you with shocked faces and a collective, “Huh?”

“Your soulmate?” Mark cautiously asks. He knew you and Jaemin were soulmates, yet he couldn’t help but ask. Maybe you thought you’d found your soulmate. Would it then be up to the three of them to convince you that your soulmate was sitting right next to you?

Jaemin and Donghyuck glance at each other, confused and nervous.

“As if,” you scoff. “I gave up on the whole soulmate thing,”

“What!?” They all shout at you. It makes you jump, not expecting that reaction from all of them.

“I’m tired of waiting for them and if they’re not going to make an effort to find me, then I’m not going to keep waiting for them.” You frown.

Jaemin’s heart sinks.

He wills his tears to not fall out of his eyes because really, it was all his fault.

Not seeking you out or giving you a sign that he was trying to seek you out, that he was right there. He didn’t even give you hope your soulmate, was in fact, always near you and now you had given up. He was too afraid and it ended up hurting you.

“That’s most definitely not what I told you to do,” Donghyuck shakes his head. He shoots Jaemin a look, telling him to tell you already, but Jaemin shook his head. He can’t.

He’s a coward and he doesn’t deserve to be your soulmate. All he does is inflict pain on you.

“Who is it?” Mark asks.

“Lee Jeno from my calc class. He needed help and I tutored him and he just asked me out,” you shrug. “He doesn’t care about the whole soulmate thing either and well I thought, why not,”

“What if you find your soulmate one day?” Jaemin asks from beside you.

“Well maybe if they tried finding me this wouldn’t have happened,” you snap.

You’re tired of waiting and Jeno was there. You decided to give him a chance and you’ve had a lot of fun with him. He’s really nice and funny. He’s been a huge gentleman to you and you were able to hang out with his friend group. They were a rowdy bunch, but you weren’t complaining. They were loud and boisterous, but welcomed you in and didn’t care that you weren’t soulmates.

Mark, Donghyuck, and Jaemin all fall silent. You don’t understand why they’re so hung up on the soulmate thing. Yeah, Mark and Donghyuck found each other, but you’ve come to realize that that’s not as common as you had originally thought. In fact, the whole soulmate system was flawed and you were over it.

Mark started the movie, but you didn’t pay attention to it, too worked up over their reactions to pay attention.

Jaemin kept fidgeting and it knocked you each time since you were still leaning on his shoulder.

You smacked his arm lightly. “Can you stop moving? It’s jostling me too,” you frown up at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and stops moving immediately.

You stop seeing Jaemin around constantly after that. He’s a different major than you, so it’s to be expected, yet it seems like he’s disappeared, although you know he hasn’t since Mark and Donghyuck seem to see him every day.

You ask them about it, but they just tell you he’s busy with upcoming exams.

The next time you see him, however, is when he’s chugging down two cans of beers with a random group of people at a party.

Jeno invited you to come to a party one of his friends was hosting. You still weren’t much of a party person, but he promised you that he’d stay by your side the entire night. You eventually told him you’d come and he hasn’t broken his promise since the two of you stepped inside.

He constantly had his arm around your back, guiding you around, or holding your hand, making sure you were there with him and feeling okay. He had gone to the bathroom though and told you to just wait for him in the kitchen. That’s when you saw Jaemin out of the corner of your eyes.

He was with one of the kids in your biology class, Renjun, and someone from your communications class, Lucas. There were a few others around him, also chugging down some drinks, but you didn’t recognize their faces.

“Jaemin?” you yell over the music as you approach him.

He whips his head towards you as soon as he hears your voice. He’s done his best to avoid you, not wanting to see you since you started dating Jeno. It only reminded him how much of a coward he was. He’s still done his best to be cautious and prevent himself from injuring his limbs so you didn’t have to feel anything, but you seemed to want to keep knocking into things to remind him that you were still connected.

“Y/n?” he asks, a little slurred from the alcohol in his system.

“What are you doing here and why are you downing beers?”

“Am I not able to do what I want, mom?” he asks rather harshly. He instantly regrets it, seeing you flinch back at his tone, but it’s too late to take it back.

“I was just asking.” You glare at him before storming off.

You head straight for the front door, not wanting to be in the suffocating frat house anymore. You send Jeno a text to tell him you’re outside before pocketing your phone and plopping your hands down on the front porch railing.

You’re not sure why Jaemin’s comment got you worked up, but it did, and now you just want to go home. You haven’t seen him in two weeks, much less talked to him, so the interaction with your best friend put you in a bad mood. He didn’t need to be so rude about it.

“What’s up, y/n?” you hear Jeno ask from behind you. He slots himself next to you, knocking into your shoulder a bit in an attempt to loosen you up.

“Nothing,” you huff. He raises his eyebrows at you, obviously not buying it. You sigh. “Jaemin was just being a dick.”

“Jaemin?” he tilts his head to the side. “I thought you said he didn’t like parties,”

“I didn’t think he did either, but he was there and he was downing beer like it was nothing,” you shrug. You lean your head on Jeno’s shoulder and he just wraps his arm around you.

“The alcohol probably clouded his speech and made it come out harsher than he thought. I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Jeno tries cheering you up. You just hum, still upset, but more upset at the fact you don’t know why it made you this upset.

You and Jaemin have had plenty of fights over the years and you always made up soon after them. It’s the first time the two of you hadn’t talked to each other in weeks without any explanation and the first time he’s snapped at you for seemingly no reason.

A loud bang and some yelling coming from inside the frat house spooked the two of you out of silence. You glance at each other before rushing inside to see the commotion.

What you don’t expect to see is Jaemin and another guy in the middle of a fight.

You don’t understand why it’s happening, but you do understand that your best friend is currently throwing punches at another boy mercilessly.

“Na Jaemin!” you scream and push your way through the crowd of people. You grab onto his arm, trying to cease his punching, but he just ends up colliding his elbow with your cheekbone, causing you to fall to the ground. You yell in pain and clutch your cheek and that’s what seems to catch Jaemin’s attention.

He glances back at you, horrified at what he had done. The other guy takes Jaemin’s halt to get back at him, however and kicks him in the side and Jaemin falls to the ground.

The fight gets stopped when a bunch of Jeno’s friends hold the other guy back from fighting anymore.

Jeno rushes over to you and helps you up, asking if you’re okay. Your throbbing cheek gets dismissed when you stand up and find your side aching. You didn’t fall on your side, but you know someone who had just got kicked in his side and is currently rocking the same blotchy bruise on his cheekbone as you.

You don’t process Jeno’s worries and you just stare at Jaemin. He seemingly understands why you’re shocked and he quickly slaps a hand over his own bruised cheek. “I can explain,” Jaemin starts, reaching out to you.

You smack his hand away rather harshly, feeling the same slap to your own hand and it all of a sudden clicks in your head. The bruises you wake up to when you know you hadn’t done anything to get them. The way Jaemin limps sometimes the day after you had knocked into the corner of your desk and when someone asks him about it, he just says he knocked into something as well. The way whenever you or your friends punch him, you get a dull ache in the same place as well.

You don’t process Jeno trying to take you away to the kitchen to put ice on your cheek and instead glare up at your best friend. “Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me. I can’t believe you!” You yell at him.

How could he lie to you all this time? How could he tell you that his soulmate connection was just some timer he could see and whenever you asked what time his countdown was at, he just said in a few years? How could he keep it a secret from you for a year?

You shrug off Jeno’s attempts at asking you what’s wrong and storm out of the house, leaving a speechless and shocked Jaemin in the middle of the room.

You’re walking down the house’s driveway when you feel a hand on your shoulder. “Leave me alone, Na Jaemin!” you scream and roughly shove off the hand.

“It’s me,” you hear Jeno’s soft, calm voice ring. It makes you stop immediately and turn around.

“I’m so sorry. I just thought you were Jaemin and I don’t know I’m so confused and mad and I don’t know what to think.” You suddenly burst out in tears. You’re stressed and confused and the sudden realization that your best friend is your soulmate is a lot.

Jeno pulls you into his chest, one of his hands resting on the back of your head while his other is wrapped around your waist, holding you close. The thumb on your side rubs soothing circles, but it does nothing to calm you down.

“Is Jaemin your soulmate?” Jeno asks.

You choke up, not wanting it to be real, but you and Jeno already know.

“Why him? Why Jaemin? I- fuck,” you hiccup into Jeno’s chest.

Jaemin runs out of the house to explain everything and try to fix everything but freezes when he sees you and Jeno. He knows the two of you are dating, yet it still strikes him in the heart. He can’t do anything about it and it pains him to see you in someone else’s arms, even more so the reason you’re there is because of himself.

He sees Jeno whisper something to you and starts leading you to his car. It drives off, but not before Jaemin makes eye contact with you as you glance out the window.

“You need to talk to him,” Donghyuck sighs.

It’s been a week since the party. Since you found your soulmate, yet you haven’t done anything to speak to him.

You did tell Jeno the next morning that you were breaking up with him and Jeno understood, even told you congratulations for finding your soulmate and that you should be with him instead. However, you made no effort to even so much as look for Jaemin after the party and Jaemin didn’t seem to make an effort either.

If you saw Jaemin walking in your direction, you immediately turned the other way and sped off in the opposite direction; didn’t matter that you were a few minutes late to your next class.

“I can’t,” you mumble from under your comforter. Donghyuck was sitting on your bed rubbing your back to try to comfort you and give you advice, but you weren’t taking it in. “What if there’s a reason he didn’t tell me? What if he doesn’t even want to be my soulmate and that’s why he didn’t tell me?”

You hear Donghyuck scoff. “Are you kidding me? He’s so whipped for you that he turned down the soccer team when Mark pointed out how many bruises and sore muscles he’ll get after practices and realize you’d get them as well.” Donghyuck smacks your head lightly.

“I thought he just didn’t make it on the team,” you pout. You remember the day Jaemin told you about the team roster.

He was so excited when he found out the university had a good soccer team and that they were looking for new players that he immediately bolted over to their booth and signed his name for try-outs.

You waited for him outside of his class the day the team lineup was supposed to be announced. You were so sure he was going to be placed on the team, you even bought him a little cupcake to celebrate, but he came out of his class with a sad smile. When he told you he didn’t make it on the team, you were so mad at the captain for not seeing how Jaemin had literally swept the team off their feet and made each goal during tryouts, you were ready to storm to their dorm and demand he was put on the team, but Jaemin just told you it was fine and it’s for the best.

You frowned at your best friend and gave him the cupcake anyways, telling him that it’s to heal his wounded heart instead.

“You’re so oblivious.” Donghyuck tsks.

“What do I do?” you whine as you kick him in the leg.

“Well, what do you want to do? Do you like him?” Donghyuck gently asks.

You whine from under your sheets.

You did. You did for a while.

When you first realize you liked your best friend, you were a sophomore in high school. You were deathly ill that day and stayed home from school. Jaemin had spammed you about coming to school, but you told him you had the flu and were dying from how shitty you felt. Throughout the day, he kept on texting you, asking if you were okay or just to tell you how much of an ass the teachers were being that day.

Near the end of the school day, he stopped texting you and you were kind of relieved, finally able to get a nap in without your phone dinging loudly a few seconds after another when you didn’t respond right away. Truthfully, you found it quite annoying, but underneath the constant messages, he was really worried.

You were drifting in and out of consciousness when the doorbell to your house rang. You were going to ignore it as it was probably just some annoying salesman that was trying to sell you another window seal, but the doorbell rang three more times in a row, effectively pissing you off.

You threw off your comforter and stormed your way down the stairs. “Who the fuck?!” You yelled although it came out more of a rasp due to your dry throat, as you opened the door. “Why are you here?” You ask, finding it was Jaemin standing outside.

“I thought you’d be lonely and hungry, so I’m here! Mark said he didn’t want to catch any disease you had so he decided to go home. Pussy,” Jaemin scoffed.

“What the hell? Leave. You’re going to get sick too,” you said and closed the door. He put a foot in the door, blocking it from fully shutting.

“At least take this soup!” he shouts. He shoves a bag of soup in your direction. You just stare at it. He’s never done something like this and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach flutter and your face heat up. You deduce it to your ill body and brush it off.

“Thanks now bye.” You say and take the soup, slamming the door in Jaemin’s face afterwards.

“You’re welcome! And take a shower, you smell!” you hear him shout from behind the door.

You scowl at the memory. How could you like your best friend? He’s supposed to be just your best friend! Feelings get complicated and mess everything up in the end.

“Y/n?” Donghyuck asks.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You emerge from your blanket and sit up. “I told myself that I wouldn’t date my friends. It’ll just get messy,” you frown as you pick at some loose strings on the blanket.

“It’ll only get messy if you make it messy.” Donghyuck gives you a look.

You hate that he’s right

You told yourself all day that you’ll text Jaemin and ask him to meet you somewhere, but it’s now 3am and you still haven’t made a move. You were so afraid.

You kept going over what would happen if you confronted him about the soulmate thing and each time, it turned sour.

Mark and Donghyuck had stopped nagging you an hour ago, probably have fallen asleep, but you were still wide awake. You knew Jaemin was a night owl and the fact that it’s the weekend, he’s most definitely still awake.

You sit in your bed for ten more minutes, cursing yourself out for being such a coward, before you finally make up your mind. You’re going up to Jaemin’s dorm and fixing this mess. You miss your best friend and just want to sort this whole thing out. Doesn’t matter what the two of you chose to do from then on.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you stand in front of his dorm room, ready to knock on the door.

You’re in an oversized hoodie, hair tied up in a bun, and your glasses are perched on your face. It was a rash decision and you really regret not changing into something more presentable.

You hesitate to knock on his door, but when the third person walks by you, sending you a strange look, you decide that you hate standing outside awkwardly more than confronting your best friend and knock on the door.

It takes a while for you to hear anything, but you hear the soft footsteps of someone coming right before the door swings open to reveal a sleepy looking Jaemin.

His hair is sticking up in all sorts of directions and his eyes are puffy from just waking up. You’re glad he sleeps with his shirt on or at least decided to put a shirt on before answering the door because you’re not sure how you’d handle a topless Jaemin at 3am.

“Y/n?” he asks surprised.

“Uh hey,” you give him a small wave and an awkward smile.

The two of you stand in silence for a few seconds before Jaemin realizes you’re standing out in the hallway of the boy’s hall and ushers you in.

The dorms aren’t big at all but it seems way smaller when you’re standing in the middle of his room while he just stares at you.

“What are you doing here?” Jaemin asks, breaking the silence.

“I just wanted to talk about everything,” you mumble.

Jaemin understands right away what you mean and stiffens up. He’s nervous about what you’ll say, what you’ll do. Will you reject the whole soulmate thing and stay with Jeno or will the two of you try it out or will you just dismiss the whole thing and act like you’re just two best friends with no connection to each other whatsoever.

He’s unsure and not knowing what you’re thinking scares him the most.

“When did you figure out we were soulmates?” you break him out of his thoughts.

“You’re 19th birthday,” he bites his lip. You’re taken aback at his response. That long? He’s known for that long and never told you!? “I noticed you had the same bruises as me and well when you punched me in the arm you flinched too and just I connected two and two together and figured it out...”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You frown. “Did you not want to be my soulmate?” You ask sadly.

As much as you’ve told yourself it’s fine if he doesn’t accept you to be his soulmate, it still hurts. You’ve been together for years as best friends. You already told yourself it was fine if he didn’t like you, but to just straight up dismiss the connection you two had? It hurts.

“No! Of course not!” he speaks right away. He quickly takes a few steps towards you until he’s right in front of you. You instinctively try to give yourself more space, but he places his hands on your shoulders, effectively keeping you in place. “I-I didn’t want you to be disappointed when you found out I’m your soulmate,”

You look up at Jaemin confused.

“I really like you, y/n. I’ve liked you since we were freshman when you slipped in front of the whole school during lunch and hurried to come sit down next to me really embarrassed that you grabbed my jacket and hid underneath it,” he explains. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment at the memory. You literally fell in front of the entire school and everyone looked to stare at you, wondering what happened. You just tripped over your own two clumsy feet and fell flat on your face. It was horrible and embarrassing and you stayed away from that cafeteria for an entire week afterwards.

You throw punches at him in the chest for bringing up that memory. “I can’t believe you brought that up! I can’t believe you even remember that!” You’re embarrassed and you don’t even process the fact he just told you he liked you.

Jaemin laughs and catches your fists from hitting him anymore. You struggle in his hold, still trying to punch him when he pulls you in closer. You collide with his chest at the same time he drops your hands to the side in favour of wrapping his hands around you back, keeping you close.

“I really really like you, y/n,” he says softly. He rests his head on top of yours as you stand still in his arms. “You said you never wanted to date your friends so I always kept quiet. When you said you had given up on finding your soulmate, I felt like a coward for never telling you. When you started dating Jeno, I couldn’t stand it. Every time I saw you with him, it always reminded me of how much I hated myself for never telling you so I tried my best to stay away from you,”

You bite your lip. You never knew he felt that way. His actions always came off as he didn’t care what you did, so you gave up on your feelings for him. You swore to yourself that dating a friend would just turn out poorly, but in the end, it was just an excuse to hide your feelings. Even when you started dating Jeno, you could never truly shake off your feelings for Jaemin.

“Jaemin...” you said, but he cut you off.

“I’m so sorry about what happened at that party. I didn’t mean to snap at you but just seeing you with Jeno when I entered, I let loose. I started downing so much alcohol to lessen the pain, but it didn’t work and I just lost it,” He lightly held you tighter. “That guy I was fighting kept talking about you and kept saying all this shit about how much of a nice fuck you’d be and I just couldn’t stand it and punched him. I didn’t mean to hit you too. I didn’t mean for you to find out we were soulmates that way.”

“Jaemin, it’s fine,” you say. You finally wrap your arms around him after the initial shock of his confession hits you. Your heart swells, but you’re still unsure of how to tell him. “I was really shocked to find out that you're my soulmate and I was mad at first, but I regret not letting you explain yourself,” you sigh.

You break apart from Jaemin’s hold, wanting to look at his face when you tell him. “I really like you too. Actually, I’ve liked you for a while,” you sheepishly say. You feel your ears burn red and see Jaemin’s eyes become larger. “I tried hinting at it in high school, but you never seemed to understand so I just thought you thought of me as just a friend so I kind of gave up. I told myself it’d be wrong to date a friend in case it ends badly and made up a dumb rule as an excuse to save my feelings.”

“You like me?” He asks, still shocked at your confession.

“Yes, you big idiot,” you roll your eyes. “You know, you’re really dense sometimes.” You scoff. You know he’s standing in front of you, trying to wrap his brain around your confession. His hands that are still holding your side are frozen as his expression is still shocked. He doesn’t say anything, and you’re really starting to get annoyed at his response, or lack thereof.

A few seconds pass by and he still hasn’t said anything and you’re over it. You stand on your toes as you bring your hands up to his cheeks and kiss him on the lips. It’s a small peck, really, but it seems to do the job.

His face flushes instantly and he stutters out a response.

“You’re really an idiot. I can’t believe I like someone like you,” you shake your head at his reaction.

“I wasn’t ready!” he complains. You laugh at his whining when he suddenly tackles you out of embarrassment at his reaction.

You’re thankful him and his roommate decided not to loft their beds together when the two of you fall on his bed. Jaemin buries his head in the crook of your neck as he whines, still embarrassed. You laugh at his cute reaction and comb your hand through his hair, trying to calm his dumb self down.

“Ugh, get a room!” Donghyuck yells as he and Mark walk up to the booth you and Jaemin are sitting at.

The four of you planned to meet up with each other at the cafe after your exams were done with to celebrate, but they were late, as usual, and you were bored. You had since seated yourself in Jaemin’s lap and started messing around with him. He teasingly complained that you were heavy and you knocked your back into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Not remembering your connection, it effectively knocked the wind out of you.

Jaemin teased you for it and you just grumbled in response. He giggled and started pinching your sides lightly to tickle you and since he wasn’t ticklish, he didn’t feel it. You wiggled in his lap, struggling to get away from his hold, but he kept you close and in the end, you were left breathless from laughing and struggling away.

You heads were close together, Jaemin’s more like nuzzling into your neck. His hair tickled your cheeks and you kept giggling when he spoke, you could feel the vibrations against your neck.

Upon hearing Donghyuck’s gagging, the two of you looked up and stuck your tongues out at him.

“So childish. No wonder you two are soulmates. You’re perfect for each other,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

“Makes up for every time we had to sit through you and Mark being disgustingly romantic together,” you retort back.

Donghyuck kicks you from under the table, obviously over your childish act.

You jump at the sudden pain in your shin at the same time Jaemin yelps out in pain. The two of you glare over at Donghyuck while he just smirks to himself.

“Violence is never the answer.” Mark disapproves.

“He started it!” You and Jaemin point your fingers at Donghyuck.

“I wish I never pushed you two to get together.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

1K notes · View notes

ddaenghoney · 5 years ago

Text

chapter nineteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): jimin redemption arc?... have y’all heard of that song... Promise..? yeah.

Word count: 5324

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

The company garage contains a normal amount of vehicles for the time of the day, and practically no one in sight as you and Yoongi reach his Audi. With his hand untangling from yours to find the keys in his pocket, you use both appendages to rub your face and muffle a loud groan into the skin. The electrical clicking of the car unlocking sounds as Yoongi turns back to face you, eyebrows perked.

“It’s catching up with you?” He asks though it sounds more like a comment. You just nod your head, still covering the majority of your face as the conversation plays over and over. Yoongi’s head tilts also thinking back upon the situation, and frankly not finding any of what you told Yerin wrong. Taehyung’s likely to get unnerved behind chuckles when he hears about the potential contract troubles you intend to land yourself into, but Yoongi completely respects the method to break free of the whole ordeal.

No matter what, SoundWave is not going to budge on their side. He imagines they’re willing to take the secret to the grave without ever leaning for a second in the direction of your favor. Though the risk to your reputation is high, Yoongi understands the current view perception you have in the public is not good already anyways. At least with this method there exists a greater likelihood of you being recognized as the victim Yerin made you into, and not the issue she tries to manipulate the world into seeing.

“How the hell am I supposed to explain myself in front of the press, or anything like that? What was I thinking?” Your hands fall away to clump into a tight bind in front of your torso.

“You were thinking that you shouldn’t be blamed for this anymore.” Yoongi’s feet come into your view as he steps closer. Gently his fingertips find your sides, easing tiny waves of warmth as he gently rubs. Ducking down to your level he continues fervently. “And none of this is your fault, so you should do this if it’s what you want to, angel.”

“But what if no one even believes me?” You glance up at him with worry, biting the corner of your lip. “Everyone already hates me, Yoon.” The crack in your tone triggers a small shake in your shoulders. Hushing the tension trying to stir, Yoongi’s lips place a small fluttering kiss against your forehead as his hands move you an inch or so closer. Your balled fists find his chest, pressing flat to feel the serene beat.

“I don’t doubt the majority of people will believe you though, baby.” He murmurs against your skin, dipping another kiss against your cheeks then they tighten from an unsure frown. “If SoundWave doesn’t say anything back then it proves you’re telling the truth. If they try to sue you, then it proves you’re telling the truth because the confidentiality clause of your contract is going to get into the public.”

“I’m just scared that whatever I say to a reporter is going to get twisted.” You lift your eyes up, finding Yoongi’s. “But if I try to do a livestream to explain this all, well,” You shrug, sighing. “Knowing me I’ll probably look super nervous and not explain the situation right.”

“No, a livestream wouldn’t be best.” Yoongi nods. “I know a couple of reporters who have always been good to me whenever I work with them. Let’s talk to one of them, alright? That way you can speak in a comfortable environment.”

You bite your lip. The closeness of this path’s fruition sends a rumble through your chest, as the wavering perspectives clash. The prickling feeling of guilt lingers, raising the volume of the distressed idols of SoundWave desperate to keep you quiet. One person speaking out to ruin hundreds of employees who were manipulated to various degrees.

“I need to tell Jihyo.” Your hands grip wrinkles on Yoongi’s shirt. The corner of his mouth divets in worry of your somberly building expression. “Give her and her group some warning.” Thoughts of their bright faces during promotion periods and cheerfully thanking you personally after award shows cross your mind. “And,”

Memories flood of early months in your career at SoundWave. Its modest appearance in those days feels reminiscent of a home left behind. The trainees were all uncertain, and the couple of active idols appreciated a moderate level of popularity. Long hours of work between you and others in the production department of music collected a camaraderie that cheerfully flourished with the appearance of consistent success. Pieces of a puzzle found their correct locations one after another creating a gleaming picture that shined when Jimin debuted.

You can easily remember the amount of detail into his debut album. The active involvement he made to attend as many meetings as possible despite not being allowed to contribute input where music was concerned. Bright and eager he’d run around the building with complete excitement for his debut that gained exponential traction from the concept photos alone.

More often than not the small handful of employees remaining in the building in the middle of the night would consist of him and you, so there was ample time to connect. Though initially you think he stuck around you with an apologetic ambience. Discontented by his lack of help while you conceptualized the lyrics of his album. And you told Jimin it was more than alright for you, because you were just as excited for so many of your songs to be used.

Genuinely expressing your willingness to let any of them perform the music under their names because at least it was being heard. At least you were doing what you wanted to do, modestly or not. You told him names weren’t important because you knew and that was enough.

“I need to tell Jimin.”

The tension in your hands drifts away, replacing itself with an airy nervousness. Scrambling in your mind, thoughts crash from the surprise of your candor. Yoongi grips your wrists, gently encapsulating them like a cushion for your wandering head. You look up at him as he maneuvers your arms down between the two of your bodies. Tangling your hands together, he nods slightly, the shadow of an empathetic smile barely visible.

“Yeah. You do.”

“Because I owe it to them, though-” He nods again, squeezing your hands.

“I know. I didn’t think anything of it, angel. I know he meant a lot to you.”

“Yoongi,” Your eyebrows crease, feeling bothered to leave this issue so simply. “You mean more to me.”

“You really,” He chuckles. Smile shifts into a softer tone. “Don’t need to explain yourself. I believe you-”

“But I don’t want you to worry-- or force away showing me that it makes you uncomfortable.” You remove your hands to rest them on Yoongi’s shoulders, watching as his smile dissipates. “I’m telling them--I’m telling Jimin because I don’t think it’s right of me to wreck their careers without even telling them that I want to tell the truth about everything. I’m not telling him because he means a lot to me, I’m telling him because I owe him that. You mean the most to me.”

Yoongi’s lips tighten to a line, feeling his heartbeat ricochet. He lets his arms find their way around you when you guide your lips against his. The worry in his throat lingers until the connection causes a dispersion. Like tiny enamored words silently press onto his lips, Yoongi can visualize your sincerity as your fingers individually squeeze onto his shoulders.

“You’ve always been beside me.” Your voice emits a clinging sensation as you speak mumbles on his mouth. “I’m so happy I’m with you, Yoon.”

Stinging blurs in his eyes, and Yoongi travels his thumbs to your cheeks to brush away the dots of glittery tears. “You’re sweet, angel.” He catches the slight widening of your eyes, but ignores the meaning to cover every instance of tears on your skin with a kiss. “You don’t need to cry about this.”

“They’re your tears, baby.” Yoongi hums as your words enter his ears, and he blinks to release another silent stream. Lips purse as your thumbs now rub along his face. He watches your gentle smile with a growing fondness clenching in his chest.

“I really did believe you before you told me that.” You listen to the murmur, glancing up to his eyes when his hands grip your sides. “I don’t doubt you.” A smile blossoms in front of your gaze, and Yoongi shrugs bashfully. “But what you said clearly made me really happy.”

Heat crawls in patches on your cheeks, as you peck another kiss against his lips intending for it to be a short moment before you speak again. However, Yoongi holds you there, following your movement and deepening the connection with endeared craving. One of your hands falls to his chest feeling the deep beat, and Yoongi’s thumbs press on the divet between your hip bones, lapping in the moment.

Parting allows breaths to flood the air along with his whisper, “You’re precious to me.”

“Are you going to try and make me cry now?”

“No,” He chuckles, shadowing his lips along the side of your mouth. “I just feel lucky someone like you came into my life.”

“Yoongi,” Your hand pats against his heart and he holds it in place with his larger appendage. You pout as he pulls his head back to properly look at you. “I really will cry--what are you smiling about that for?”

“You’re so cute.” Your growing pout only serves to promote the grinning expression. You sigh, trying to avoid his fond stare so your face doesn’t redden more.

“Sorry, I made you stand in the background of that whole thing, by the way.”

“That’s alright-- you were a badass, I enjoyed it.” Yoongi laughs as you shake your head and attempt to push him away from you out of embarrassment. “I have to meet Hoseok in about an hour and a half to tour a building.”

“Wow, you’re both working quickly.” You say in surprise as Yoongi releases your hand from the hold against his chest. He nods sheepishly,

“Well everything will take a while to get together so it’s best to start sooner than later. Do you want to tag along, angel?”

“Doubt Hoseok wants an audience.”

“Please,” Yoongi chuckles as he rubs his bangs from his face. “He won’t mind at all. Besides he likes you a lot anyways. He thinks you’re more fun than me.”

“Don’t pout.” You smile, poking your thumb into his cheek as Yoongi bitterly says his last sentence. He rolls his eyes, allowing your hand to remain on his face as you continue speaking. “I’ll go, but just because I want to hold your hand while I figure out what I’m going to say to Jimin and Jihyo.”

“So don’t talk to you while we’re touring.” Yoongi chuckles as you nod with complete seriousness of the idea. “That’s fine, I like having you around in general anyways.” He says nodding in the direction of his car steps away.

“Oh, just to look at?” You question over the top of his car as Yoongi rolls his eyes and simply slides into the driver seat. You stare inquisitively at him when you join, refraining from your joking smile to appear on your face. Dipping your head forward to the dash to remain in his peripherals, you nearly let out a giggle as he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah-”

“Jerk.” You smile at Yoongi when he shakes his head holding back his own laughter. “I thought you just said I was precious to you-”

Yoongi kisses you to interrupt the sentence, content with the sight of your flustered smile as he pulls away. “Most precious, angel.”

---

Your groan muffles against soft fabric, while your legs curl beneath the warmth of your comforter. Clinging your hands tighter, they feel the rumbling of chuckles that your ears detect languidly above your head. One eye peeks open with enough time to watch Yoongi’s arm fall away to the mattress from where he tried to ease your body off his own. He simply looks up at the ceiling as the hand connected to his arm you lie on rubs tiny strokes on your back

“Thought you said you were going to sleep in.” Your voice lulls and you only curl closer to his frame. Yoongi hums vaguely, angling his face towards you so the view of his slowly waking expression reveals itself with the softness of sunlight through the windows painting it warmly.

“It’s almost one. We both have slept in, angel.” Yoongi says watching with amusement as your eyes quickly widen from surprise. He watches with interest as you pick yourself up on one arm to look over his body to the bedside clock corroborating his statement. “Sleep well?”

“I guess too well.” Your quiet voice is twinged with muted embarrassment, but considering how easily you drifted into a deep sleep you aren’t remorseful.

“It’s Sunday, so it doesn’t really matter anyways.” Yoongi admits with a sigh as he stretches both arms out in the air above you both.

“Well, it sort of matters since the reporter is coming in a couple of hours.” Your eyes fall back to Yoongi when the sensation of his hands against your waist register. Lazily he brings you down to him so that one of your arms presses between your bodies. He kisses you gently, then smiles when you immediately kiss along his jaw. “Guess what.”

“Hmm?” He barely manages to voice the retort, focusing more on the sudden spark of energy in your irises as you smile down at him.

“I’m really good at making pancakes.”

“Better than the burnt takeout you reheated the other day?” Yoongi’s head tilts, not bothering to hide the smile as you pout from his teasing.

“With that attitude, you won’t find out.” You cover his protestint mouth with a kiss, then scoot off the bed. “But you do have to help me.” You state as you press a finger to your phone screen. The sight free of notifications leaves a small well in your stomach.

Jihyo instantly responded to the text you left her with a phone call. A lengthy rant of words to you, dirtied with things you doubt she meant but hurt to hear all the same. The pleas she said felt more painful to listen to, each one taking a blunt hit against the wall of conviction in your head. Not managing to break through, but difficult to shut down.

The longer text message sent to Jimin, you anticipated a similar phone call in return. With the history between the two of you, there was little to stop the assumption that Jimin would wholeheartedly use that as a way to feel comfortable enough to call. This was the decision he was so afraid of that it ended the relationship between you both. Even with what he told you last at the cafe--even when he promised to support your decisions in the future, you can’t imagine this would sit so silently in his throat.

“Did he respond?” Yoongi’s voice brings you back, as his arms do a quick job to unconsciously comfort you. Encircling your hips, he brings you a step towards where he sits at the edge of the bed, letting his head rest against your waist.

“Nope.” You shimmy an arm free so that you can tangle the hand within Yoongi’s unkempt dark locks. “I’m not really waiting for him too, though. I still want to talk to the reporter.”

“Bugs you though?”

“I just expected him to say something--be mad at me like Jihyo was.” You lean yourself to sit against his thigh, while Yoongi lifts his head to look at you. The phone goes to the bed with a small toss as you look out the window at the rich summer day. It moves in slow motion like most Sundays with people casually out and about relaxed. You feel the same. “I’m kind of surprised that I don’t care that much about what Jihyo said in retrospect. Whatever Jimin decides to do too… I don’t feel weighed down by it really.”

“I was thinking that may be the case with how easily you fell asleep last night.” Yoongi says simply, shaking his head as you roll your eyes from the idea he’s joking. “Y/N, I mean you looked really settled. Sure about everything.”

“Sleeping me should teach awake me a thing or two then-” Your voice turns into a small yelp as Yoongi lightly pinches your hip to cut you off. Throwing your voice into a longer squeal, Yoongi falls back on the bed taking you with him.

“You’re sure of yourself either way.” Yoongi says as you shift around atop him to lie more comfortably on his chest. “You’re going to say what you want to, put SoundWave in its place, and go on to be an incredible songwriter and producer that everyone will finally get to see.”

The thought fills you with an excited breath, held back with a smile grateful for Yoongi's words. His positive outlook assists to diminish worry every time, but you can’t understand where the confidence for you comes from. You doubt that he would tell you something just to pacify worries if the words weren’t based in some type of understanding. “Why do you believe in me so much?”

Yoongi suddenly frowns at the question, though not irritated but instead perplexed. When he considers the inquisition, he doesn’t find his answer to be anything substantial or groundbreaking. He doesn’t need to tell you that talent alone is more than half the reason why he thinks so highly of where you intend to go in your career, because your work speaks for itself. But beyond that, what he believes feels very simple.

“You haven’t ever given up.” Yoongi says. In the following silence he grows more convicted to speak on as your hands curl against his chest and your eyes fill with surprise. “If it hadn’t been SoundWave that found you first, then you would already be successful. You’re talented, passionate-- I can’t see you stopping until you were happy with where you’re at, and that’s what you’re doing now. You deserve what you’re aiming for.”

A doorbell interrupts your chest from fluttering at Yoongi’s words. Your heads turn in the direction of the door in the other room. Whipping your gaze back to Yoongi, your voice fills with a surprised worry,

“Wait, is the reporter here already?” You stand up from him, rushing to a dresser to retrieve a pair of jeans. “I just woke up-- what’s he doing here this early,” You ramble along as Yoongi sits up with fretting brows.

“What if it’s not even him, angel?” He asks, but the words fall on deaf ears while you simply scramble into the bathroom. Yoongi sighs, shaking his head in amusement as he walks to the front of the bed for his sweatpants. “I’ll go let him in.”

“Give him water and apologize to him for me!” You call out frantically, missing Yoongi’s call of agreement as you turn on water to brush your teeth. Within minutes you manage to have your teeth cleaned and face washed. You pat a towel against your skin, thinking over the words that you really had yet to plan completely. You sigh, tossing the towel aside and stepping back into your bedroom to search for shirt that wouldn’t have wrinkles on it like the one currently hanging off your shoulders.

“Baby,” Yoongi’s voice startles you as you glance up. He stands at the entrance of the bedroom, hand clamped on the doorknob.

“You can use my kitchen to get him a snack if he wants-”

“It’s not the reporter.” Yoongi shakes his head, entering inside the room with the door shutting behind him. The material in your hands falls back into the dresser as you straighten up, looking towards your boyfriend in confusion. “It’s Jimin.”

“What?” Your voice practically gasps the shock as a similar stupor overtakes your face. Your eyes narrow, glancing towards the closed bedroom door then back to Yoongi. “Wait, he’s here? Like, right now?”

“He wants to talk to you.” Yoongi continues in an even voice, but you can tell that he’s evidently not comfortable with Jimin’s reasonings. For the smallest second your mind wanders about the direction of Yoongi’s worries, but his concerned, gentle voice helps you understand entirely. “If you don’t want to, then I’ll go tell him to go. I don’t want you to feel like you need to.”

The surprise of the situation leaves with Yoongi’s words. Calming your thoughts back to an even ground, you close the drawer shut, leaving your hands atop the furniture for a moment. Your head shakes gently, “No, I’ll talk to him. That’s okay.”

Jimin stands in your living space as you walk from the hallway. Blue hair is barely discernible as it hides within the confines of a cap on his head. Like most people around this time of the day, he’s dressed appropriately as though he plans to leisurely walk about after his stop at your apartment. He notices you walk in and takes no effort to stop the small smile that comes on his face. The sight of his complexion makes your mind stammer for a reason you can’t quite pinpoint.

“Just woke up?” He asks with his familiarly casual tone as you walk around the couch to meet him where he stands not too far from the front door.

“Maybe,” You can’t help the tiny reply out of embarrassment of your appearance. “Don’t tell me I look like it.”

“You don’t.” The teasing intonation laced in his words highlight the growing smile on his face. “Sorry about waking you up, I thought you’d be awake by now.” He explains, glancing beyond you as padding feet come into your hearing. You look back as Yoongi walks over to the kitchen quietly, and begins scavenging for items to begin cooking. You roll your eyes and bite back a nervous laugh as you turn back towards Jimin.

“We were already awake, it’s no big deal. But what brings you?” You ask, before shaking your head. “Or, I guess I already have an idea.”

“Yeah,” He nods, then bites his lip thoughtfully. Letting him collect his thoughts, you prepare yourself for the idea of having to retort against him just as you did with Jihyo. You were unprepared entirely that he would come to talk in person about the text message, but you can understand why he feels the need to face you directly. “You’re really going to tell everything about SoundWave?”

“I don’t want everything I did for them to go unrecognized anymore.” You say as though prompted to defend yourself. Readying the next statement, you open your mouth but freeze as Jimin softly nods his head.

“Yeah, I understand that.” In the background of your thoughts, you hear the sound of eggshells cracking and it feels reminiscent of the assumptions in your head feeling ready to shatter. “Actually, I just stopped here before going to the river for the festival. I have a performance tonight.”

“You do?” You dumbly say in a stupor, confused still about the intention of this entire conversation. You expected the argument at Seulgi’s party to replay with louder voices. “Wait, yeah, I knew that. I saw the lineup. Sorry, I’m spacing out here.” You laugh softly, as your hand reaches to rub your neck.

“That’s okay. I came unannounced, after all.” Jimin glances towards the floor while his hands shift in his jean pockets. You watch his lips tighten and his eyebrows narrow and again your heart feels the need to prepare itself. “Do you realize what could happen to your reputation if you say everything?”

Your heart beats in your chest like a loud thump and any other activity in the room seems to go silent at his question. You really don’t want to argue with him about why you’re unwilling to remain quiet with your mouth clamped shut. The last conversation you had with Jimin felt like it cleared the air better between you both, and reverting to harsh words would only leave things sour, but you can’t help it if that’s the case. So you speak freely,

“I know what could happen. I don’t care about that anymore though. I’m tired of letting everyone in charge of us control everything and not let anyone have a say.”

“Us?” Jimin repeats and if you didn’t see his lips contorting into an amused smile you would’ve felt the need to clarify. His head nods, keeping you quiet while you wonder what led him here. “I’m really tired of it too.”

Your lips part as his sentence falls into the air between you. With surprised irises you watch as Jimin rubs the arch of his shoulder and a sheepish smile grows on his lips. “I have a lot less to fall back on than you do, I guess though.”

“What do you mean?” You blurt in confusion, completely uncertain of the direction he intends to take the conversation. Farther and farther from the idea of him coming to talk you out of your plans, your mind drifts to the present where Jimin speaks so differently than what you anticipated.

“I finished making a song with Jeongguk-- well, he let me use his studio to make it, since SoundWave wouldn’t have enjoyed me making one on my own.” Jimin’s lips tighten into a line while he feels the vibration of his emotions behind his ribcage. “Instead of the last song scheduled on my set I’m going to perform it. And before I do that I’m going to apologize to everyone for pretending your music was mine.”

“Jimin,” Your hands clench at your sides while the bulk of your unabashed surprise overtakes your expression. “You’ll-”

“I told you I promise to support whatever you wanted to do.” No allowance for negotiation exists in the bright tone of Jimin’s voice. He smiles on at you as your vision clouds from the stinging feeling of the very late decision to truly take your side despite what it could mean for both of you. “It’d be better for my fans to hear it from me… Maybe some of them will understand where I’m coming from about why it happened, but,” He inhales and you can tell the worry of his efforts being wasted for his own career are weighing down his throat. “In any case, I won’t have to be mad at myself for lying to them anymore.”

You reach for your face to stop the first line of tears escaping your eyes, feeling your shoulders tremble. Without speaking, a comforting hand finds the disturbed shake of your spine where grateful tears well within.

“Jimin,” An inhale interrupts your sentence, as you try not to let your emotions shake your words. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to.” Jimin smiles gently and watching him dip his head to hide beneath his cap’s bill as a hand quickly swipes against his cheeks makes your throat bang bittersweetly. “I should have done this a long time ago, Y/N.” Still under the cover of his hat you hear his lips take in a sharp inhale, before Jimin looks up to you properly and smiles beneath puffy eyes. “I’m just sorry the song I’m going to play is about you.”

“I can handle a diss track, it’s okay-”

“Then you should be able to handle one that isn’t that, just fine.” Jimin exhales, rubbing his hands together as though coming to terms with the gravity of this conversation. He nods his head, “I can’t wait to see you bring down Yerin. Take care of yourself, okay?”

You’re only able to nod, rubbing your eyes free of any remaining tears as Jimin turns on his heel. When he reaches the door, you can imagine a shine as words manage to come from your mouth, “You too, Jimin. You’ll make it-- you have plenty to fall back on, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! I wrote songs, but they wouldn’t have taken off if it wasn’t you singing them. You’re talented too, Jimin.”

As he turns back towards you, Jimin’s complexion glitters with vibrancy that’s new to your eyes. As though a metamorphosis has undergone, Jimin appears reminiscent of the early days that you met him full of optimism, but now without the underlying nervousness. Now ready to simply exist as he wants and let the cards play out. “Thank you, lovely.”

The door shuts behind Jimin, leaving you to rub your face with a confusing mixture of sadness and gratitude for the conversation. The hand left on your back leads you to a small turn to meet the engulfment of Yoongi’s body. You instantly latch your arms around him, squeezing very tightly as you groan against his chest.

“You’re really strong-”

“I can’t believe that just happened!” You look up at him with remaining surprise lingering in your expression. You huff and shake your head. “Really-” Your words muffle when Yoongi rubs his thumb on your cheeks gently to catch any of the remaining tears staining the skin. “I didn’t expect that.”

“I thought I’d have to shove him out of here at some point to be honest-”

“You wanted to,” You ramble into his sentence and meet his pout with a kiss. “What just happened?”

“Another member joined the team, angel.” Yoongi says with a candid tone that makes you giggle against his chest at the obvious uncaring disposition rumbling beneath the surface at the idea of Jimin wearing the same jersey as the two of you.

“Can I say something honestly, but preface it by telling you I love you?” You speak casually, watching as Yoongi’s pouting expression quickly deteriorates and replaces with utter shock as he tilts his head down at you. Confused by his change in attitude, you grip tighter on his back, frown growing on your face as you look on at his widened eyes. “What?”

“You love me?”

“What?” You both drift into silence, simply staring at each other in shock. Your initial sentence replays in your head, and a boulder forms in your throat as you practically choke from your own words. “I,” You literally bite the side of your tongue to will thoughts back into an intelligible assortment in your mind that is not helped by Yoongi’s complete attention still presently peering down at you. “I do.”

“You do-”

“I love you.” Your voice only whispers but it cuts him off completely. Yoongi’s mouth clamps back shut giving your brain a second to pulsate at a high rate until the beginning speckles of a blush start covering his cheeks. You don’t think of speaking again, but words come out, “I really love you.”

Yoongi’s limp hands on your back suddenly slide to your sides, squeezing as the things you say appear to catch up with his head. While you look on at him, the words feel so sweet on your lips that you think you could say it over and over, and the mere fact makes your heart warm in its happy beat. You smile, happy to say it again until Yoongi decisively cuts off the endearment with his lips colliding with yours.

“I love you too,” Yoongi mumbles, smiling into the kiss as your hands drag along the back of his shirt. “So much-” Deepening the kiss, you both find yourselves compliant with the idea of silence so that you can continue in the longing kiss with freshly discovered intimacy.

“Wait,” You tug off of him, turning your head, “Did you turn the stove on-”

“Shit--the butter’s burning-”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi @xionysus @baebyjoonie @honeyoongles @betysotelo18

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 years ago

Text

Take Cover

Series Summary: After the events of Civil War, Steve and his team are stuck in their compound. Following a mission, you disagree with your stalwart leader but he does not take kindly to your defiance.

Sequel to Insubordination, Pulling Rank, Misconduct, and Furlough

Chapter Description: The reader struggles to relax on her vacation.

Warnings: non-con/explicit sex, violence, mentions of birth control/contraceptives. Obviously 18+ (like this whole blog)

Note: Okay so this got fucking crazy. It starts out slow but I promise, it is worth it. Drama, smut, darkness! Omg, thank you guys for your patience and I hope this was worth the way. Love you ❤

Thanks for reading. Feel free to send an ask, reblog, or reply of your thoughts:)

Even upon returning to you room, you were not to meet with any sleep. You were still tender and mortified. Steve had used you so easily. The more you allowed him to bend and contort your body to his whims, the more it tore you up inside. What had happened to the man you had once respected? Something was missing inside of him. And you couldn’t help the tremor every time you thought of him cumming inside of you. Of the possibility that he would linger within you.

You sat on the floor beside the ebony dresser carved with tribal insignia. You unpacked your bag into the drawers as the sun rose just outside your window. You felt so numb and yet there was a pain deep inside of you. You stood as you closed the drawers and changed into the outfit you had set aside. A billowy blouse and torn jeans. You did your best to look human in the mirror and slipped into a pair of flats.

You stared at your door before you found the will to open it. Your hand slowly turned the handle and you clicked it shut carefully behind you. You listened for any noise of your team. You neared Steve’s door and pressed your ear to the wood; you could hear his sound snores from the other side. Bastard. He was entirely unfazed by what he was doing to you. A bitterness settled on your tongue and you walked quietly down the hall.

You found your way to the throne room by chance but only after getting lost several times. You were surprised to find Shuri there. She was staring out the windows of the palace onto the mosaic of wilderness mixed with industry below. You neared her and she swore in her own language as you spooked her; your reflection appearing just beside hers in the glass. You smiled meekly and tucked your hands in your pocket.

“You’re awake early,” She grinned at you in the window, “I’d thought you and the rest would be sleeping off your jetlag.”

“I’ve always been an early bird,” You returned, “I was actually hoping to ask you something. Um, or someone. Not really sure who to ask.”

“That’s what I’m here for. To answer questions. If it’s not that white boy in my lab prodding at my work, it’s my brother.” She chuckled.

“I was hoping to travel around the city today...just for an hour or so. Cooped up in that compound…” You stared down at the colourful streets. “I’m getting a little stir crazy.”

“Ah, yes, I can get you a car. And my brother had your credentials prepared. They’re in the lab waiting for you.” She turned to you at last. “It must be hard; leaving it all behind for the solitary of that place. I told my brother, it was little more than a prison. So boring.”

“I’ve found that the friends you lose are worse than any material,” You said solemnly, “Some things you know you can never get back.”

“I think you and the white boy would get along. You’re both rather pessimistic,” She shook her head, “Why don’t you come with me and I’ll get you sorted.”

“Thank you,” You followed her as she turned away. She flicked her fingers over her shoulder for you to follow and you did so eagerly. A couple hours away had only been a fantasy; the last you clung to in surviving the horror of your reality.

Wakandan currency, a fake passport, a map, and a mod to Google translate and you were ready to go. A car awaited you downstairs and you slid into the back with a suppressed sigh. You felt almost free even if you knew it wouldn’t last. You asked the driver to take you to your first and most important destination and wrung your hands eagerly. When he stopped, you stepped out with a thanks and stared up at the pharmacy. That at least resembled its western counterpart.

It was a full five minutes before you worked up the courage to enter. You looked around the shelves of beauty products and medicinal aids. You walked down the center aisle and meekly approached the pharmacist’s counter. You neared with a nervous smile, waiting behind the other customer as you clutched the thin strap of your purse.

It was your turn and you stumbled as you stepped up to the counter. “Um, I...is there any way to request a private consultation?”

“Certainly,” The woman smiled; her braids twisted back in a ballerina bun. “Come with me, hon.”

Her English was clear and you were relieved that you didn’t need the app to understand her. She led you to a small room and assured you that the pharmacist would be in soon. You sat in the clinical white chair and shook your leg. When at last another woman appeared in a white coat, you greeted her in a small voice and she closed the door behind her.

“Hello, I’m Anula. How can I help you today…?”

“Y/N,” You introduced yourself, “I, uh, I, well, I’m sure you can guess that I’m not from around here and I wasn’t sure even if you could help…”

“I can try,” She smiled warmly, “Do you have a passport?”

“Y-yes,” You unzipped your purse shakily and held out the document provided by Shuri. She took it and read it over carefully.

“You are a guest of the king,” She turned to the fourth page; a large stamp with a panther’s head on it.

“I am,” You confirmed softly.

“Anything you need would be covered under the Crown’s hospitality.” She assured you.

“Even without a prescription?” You wondered.

“If it is required, we can arrange a doctor’s visit within the hour,” She offered, “Really, we are not so strict as America. Our healthcare is here to care, not to profit.”

“I...I need birth control.” You admitted shyly; your voice didn’t feel like your own. “And...Plan B, if you have it.”

She nodded but not judgement marred her face. Her expression was that of understanding. “Easy. We can have the birth control readied within twenty minutes. Just a few questions first and the Plan B is not a problem at all. I’ll have my staff put it together at once.” She stood and offered her hand, “You don’t have to be afraid. Not here.”

You swallowed the pill at the counter and left with slightly less anxiety. You hid the rest of your haul in your purse and walked along the street as you stopped in the local shops. You paused to watch the traffic and rush of people around you. You could just disappear. You laughed at yourself darkly and continued to the corner to meet the driver. Steve would find you, you knew that.

By the time you returned to the palace, your head was achy and your stomach had begun to roil. You thanked the driver again and dragged yourself up the royal stairs. Inside, you traversed the maze as best you could and eventually found your way back to the throne room. From there, you could recall the path Shuri had led you along last night.

Wanda turned the corner at the same time as you and you nearly took her out as you grabbed onto each other. She giggled and you tried to but the unexpected run in had only spiked your already fragile nerves.

“I’ve been looking for you!” Wanda greeted in her subtle accent, “Nat’s in the common room with Shuri. She wants us to play some games with her.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows and resisted the urge to touch your stomach. You felt sick. And tired. “I don’t know. I’m exhausted.”

“And yet you went running around Wakanda,” She mused, “What were you doing anyway?”

“Just...exploring. As much alone time I’ve had during my suspension, doesn’t really feel like I’m alone, you know?” You spoke quietly.

“I know,” Her hands clung to yours, “But you shouldn’t always be alone. Please...for me. You can just watch.”

“Okay,” You gave a reluctant smile, “You know I can’t deny you.”

“I know,” She preened.

“I’ll just put my purse away and catch up to you, okay?” You slowly untwined your fingers from hers.

“Alright, I’ll walk slow…” Her eyes washed over your features before she finally stepped past you. “You better catch up.”

You sat on the long sofa as Shuri, Wanda, and Nat moved along with the figures on the television. You would’ve loved to play but you felt like shit. You were mostly just tired and quite tempted to fall asleep on the couch. Instead you just leaned on the arm and yawned. After Shuri came out the victor of the Shakira battle, Nat turned to you with a mope.

“Come on, Y/N, just one song,” She pleaded. “Maybe it will wake you up.”

You squinted at her and sighed. You definitely felt like a party pooper. You hated it. These last months you had been shrouded in gloom. You just wanted to enjoy life again; even if it was something as small as a round of Just Dance. You dropped your shoulders and grinned. You pushed yourself to your feet.

“Fine, where’s my controller?” You asked and Wanda smiled over Nat’s shoulder.

You took the small controller, slipping on the wrist strap, and lined up with the rest. “No, not Despacito,” You argued as Shuri began flicking through the catalogue.

She settled on some Lady Gaga instead, “Fine. Something a bit more palatable for you.”

You started moving along with them as best you could. For someone trained to fight, you weren’t the most co-ordinated. You blamed that on your lack of rhythm and sleep. You were really starting to enjoy yourself as you forgot your eventful arrival the night before. You ignored the movement you sensed at the other end of the room, lost in the rhythm and shared giddiness. The song ended and Shuri gloated again as she came out on top.

“Shit!” Nat’s natural competitive nature was starting to boil over. “I swear. You’re cheating.”

“Or you’re getting a bit rusty,” Sam taunted and you turned.

He stood just inside with Steve and Bucky at his shoulders. The three were thoroughly amused by the scene and you would’ve dropped your controller if it wasn’t for the strap. Steve’s eyes were on your formerly swinging hips and you knew he had seen a few too many of your ill-timed moves. You unhooked the strap from your hand and set the controller aside. You looked away, trying to avoid a direct stare down only to catch Wanda’s pale eyes. Slowly she peeked over at Steve and you saw the thoughts swirling.

“You four are like the second coming of the Spice Girls over here,” Sam teased as he crossed the room.

“And it looks like Scary just showed up,” Nat countered.

Steve and Bucky trailed behind; the former moved like a predator. The warmth of his gaze lingered on you. You crossed your arms and kept your distance. You edged closer to Wanda and whispered as you turned your back to the room. “I think I’m going to lay down now.”

She nodded, her eyes still glued to Steve. “I’ll come with you. Just to make sure you’re alright.”

“Wanda--”

“I insist,” She looked at you at last. “Come on.”

You waited as Wanda excused you and followed her to the door. In the hallway, you walked in silence, picking blindly at your nails.

“I don’t look into peoples’ heads anymore. I don’t like it.” She began quietly. “But I can still get a sense of what’s within. It doesn’t take my powers to see there is something going on.” Your eyes were wet as she spoke and you gulped. You couldn’t talk; wouldn’t. “Tell me and I can help you. We’ll all help you.”

She stopped short and turned to you. Your eyes were stuck to the carpet. “I can’t…”

“Even if you don’t tell me, I know. Something isn’t right.” She touched your elbow gently, “What has he done to you?”

“I let him do it.” You raised your head, staring her down defiantly as a single tear slipped down your cheek. “I can’t stop him and neither can you.”

Her face paled and her fingers gripped your arm. “Oh, Y/N… I can. We can.”

“No. I don’t want you to,” Your lip trembled. “This isn’t your problem. It’s mine and--” You inhaled and shook your head, “I don’t want everyone to know what he’s done. It’s humiliating.”

“I won’t tell them then, but I can stop him. Please.” You lowered your head and her hands cradled your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“If you do, he’ll make me leave. You too. We’ll all have tossed it away for nothing.” You croaked. “At least when he’s out there, when’s he’s leading the team, he’s saving people. What is my life against theirs.”

“He’s not the only one helping--”

“Don’t! Okay! Don’t you understand? If I do anything, I’ll be left out in the cold. All alone.” You pushed her hands away. “And what do think will happen to you? You think he’ll let your little tryst with Vision continue? He’ll find a way to tell Tony.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’ll have me and no one could ever keep me from Vis.”

“No, he could. That’s what you don’t get.” You backed away. “Wanda, if you’re my friend, you’ll just let it be. I’ve enough regret on my shoulders.”

You spun and marched away from her. You could feel her watching you. The tears spilled freely as you turned the corner and you sniffed them back as you wiped them away. How had everything become so fucked up? Why did you always have to fuck things up so entirely?

There was a knock at the door after the windows had grown dark. It was late. You had heard the doors of the others as they had returned for the night. There wasn’t a second knock. The door opened unanswered and you didn’t need to roll over to see who it was. Steve’s heavy footsteps neared the bed and he huffed as he stared down at you. You stayed still beneath the covers with your back to him.

“There’s a pool on the other side of the palace,” He sat down and the bed dipped beneath him. His thick hand was on your hip, “Hot tub, too. Thought you could use a few laps, soldier.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t move. You just laid there.

“You know the rules,” His voice deepened, “Keep it up soldier and I’ll have you running down the halls.”

“Yes, sir,” Your voice was small as you rolled onto your back. You pushed yourself up carefully as you faced him.

“Why’d you leave so soon today?” He asked as you draped your legs over the edge of the mattress.

You looked at him sharply as you stood. “Are you serious?”

He chuckled and grabbed your arm. He dragged you towards the door as he spoke. “No, I just like watching you squirm.”

“Wait, shouldn’t I get a bathing suit?” You tried to plant your feet but only tripped yourself. He kept you from falling and opened the door with his other hand.

“You won’t need it,” He smirked and pulled you into the hall. The door closed behind you just as swiftly and you were struggling to keep up with his long stride. You were still half asleep. Irritable even.

“Stop,” You tried to wriggle free of him, “I can walk by myself.”

“Oh, are we gonna be mouthy tonight?” He clung to you even tighter as he pulled you onward. “Because I can put that mouth to good use.”

“Just, Jesus Christ, let me just walk,” You planted your heels and were surprised when it drew him to a full stop. “Please.”

He turned and looked you up and down. You were tired and worn out. You just wanted to feel like your body was still your own. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. He grabbed your forearm and shoved you ahead of him. “Then walk, soldier.” He ordered as you stumbled.

You righted yourself and pushed your shoulders back as you walked. You weren’t sure where exactly you were going. At the corner, Steve directed you with a single word, “right,” then “left,”; his directions carried on through the halls until you reached a pair of carved door which glowed with an unnatural lustre. “Inside,” He commanded.

You reached out and slid your fingers through the handle and pressed inward. Within was a sparkling pool of water at the centre of the room. There was a lounge area along the far wall with reclining beach chairs and a round table with chairs. At the other end of the pool, was a smaller basin; steam rising from its core. The door closed behind you as Steve followed you inside.

As you stood admiring the ethereal glow set by the windowed ceiling upon the room, two hands rested heavy on your shoulders. “You’re tense,” Steve remarked. You could hear the smirk in his voice. You withheld your dry retort of him being the reason for that and instead lowered your chin. “The steam should loosen you up.”

You drew away from him as you crossed your arms. It was laughable that he should even pretend to care about you. Painful even as you recalled those days when you truly thought he had. How could you have known those years ago that this valiant crusader would become so corrupted?

“I thought we were past this, soldier,” Steve was close again. His hands were on the hem of your shirt. “But I’m always up for a fight.”

You sighed and remained as you were. “Sorry, Captain.”

“Very good,” He pulled your shirt up your torso and you pliantly raised your arms.

The loose tee was easily lifted over your head and he dropped it at his feet. He grabbed the waist of your pajama shorts and you resisted the urge to fold your arms across your bare chest. He tugged the shorts past your thighs and they fell naturally to the floor. You were entirely naked before him; a familiar vulnerability swept over you. The strength left your limbs and you closed your eyes in shame.

“Your turn,” He grabbed your wrist and turned you to face him. You stared up at his dark eyes; they used to be so bright. “Undress me, soldier.”

You reached over numbly and pushed the cotton up his stomach. He stooped to help you get it past his arms and shoulders, the tee discarded with your own. You were eager to be done with the ritual but he caught your hands and placed them on his broad chest. Your palms were pressed to his firm muscles and he held them there. Slowly, he slid your hands down his torso and you struggled not to pull away.

“You’re already wet, aren’t you?” He asked as he stopped your hands at the low belt of his pajamas. He removed his hands and nodded. “Go on.”

You gulped and pulled the elastic past his erection carefully. You bit down as you contemplated letting it snap back at him. That wouldn’t be good. Not for you. You rolled his pajamas past his thighs and let go. They puddled at his feet and he stepped out of them. He pressed his cock to your stomach, “Touch me.”

Your eyes went to his stomach; frozen there as you brought your hand blindly to his cock. You ran your fingers along his length and gripped him firmly. He shuddered and his hand wrapped around yours. He guided you up and down a few times as his breath came in dusky growls.

“Come on,” He pulled your hand away from his cock and clasped it in his. He led you along the polished geometric tile toward the steamy hot tub at the end of the room. He released you and nudged you ahead of him. “Get in.”

You cautiously neared the brim and dipped your toe in. You descended the underwater steps one at a time as the hot water embraced you. Despite your company, it was welcoming. You just wanted to sink under and never emerge from the depths. Your feet met the bottom and you crossed to the ledge which lined the basin’s perimeter. You turned and sat, the water moving noisily around you.

Steve’s eyes were on you, his head lowered in predatory observation. The corner of his mouth twitched and he descended into the tub with a splash. He sat on the bench across from yours and spread his thick arms over the edge of the hot tub. He hung his head back and sighed. Your legs and arms crossed without thought. What was he doing?

“Just relax,” He lifted his head and peeked at you with one eye. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Slowly, you tried to do as he said. You dropped your arms to your side and set your legs side by side. You stared at him as he just sat there, totally at ease, as if unaware of your presence. Despite the soothing waves of the jets and warmth all around, you just couldn’t relax. The more you watched him the angrier you were. You thought of your conversation with Wanda; of the shame that still burned in your spine. What if someone were to stumble in here with a similar idea as Steve? How would you explained the two of you skinny dipping so late at night?

Your shoulders were just above the water and you peered down at the distorted vision of your body. You turned your hands palm up and tried to trace the warped lines along them. You didn’t feel like a person anymore. This man across from you had made you feel like nothing more than air. You weren’t truly there; a part of you had broken. The same part of him that had fractured, only in a different way.

The water shifted suddenly and you looked up just as Steve pushed through the water. He settled beside you, his arm stretched behind your shoulders. You stiffened and raised your head. You focused on the far wall; willing yourself to drirft away. His hand was on your cheek; his wet fingers left a trail down to your jaw, then your neck, and along your collarbone. His heat added to that of the water as his fingers crawled beneath the surface.

He nuzzled your neck as you fought to stay still. His teeth grazed your throat, tickled even, before he bit down. The sharp twang caused you to grunt and you pushed against his head desperately.

“Stop! Don’t!” You could feel him sucking, your flesh throbbing. He cupped your breast and finally let go. You knew there would be a purple welt left in his stead. You reached up to touch the teeth marks which framed the blemish. “Why would you do that?”

“Because, you’re mine,” He rasped into your skin as he rested his head against your shoulder. He toyed with your breast as he spoke; kneading pinching, and tweaking. “Wanda knows, doesn’t she?” You swallowed but didn’t answer. “But you told her not to do anything, right?” Again, silence. “Right, soldier?”

“Yes, Captain,” You whispered.

“She’ll mind her business if she knows what’s good for her and the robot,” His hand slid down your stomach, “You’ll keep her from doing anything stupid.”

“Yes, Captain,” You gritted out as he pushed between your legs.

“Good,” He pressed two fingers against your clit and held them there. He applied more pressure as he raised his hand and breathed in your ear. “I can feel how wet you are.” He dipped his fingers lower and you felt it too. “It’s all for me, isn’t it, soldier?”

“Y-yes,” You stuttered out as he dragged his fingers back to your clit.

His rough fingertips flicked back and forth and your thighs tingled. His breath was hot on your cheek as he played with you, caressing you gently only to deepen his touch. When you were ready to dissemble, he let off and slowly built you up again. He drew circles this time and you bit your lip as you tried to hide your face from him. His other arm wrapped around you and he pulled you close so that his lips were flush to your temple.

As the tension spiraled around his fingertips, he retreated again and you grunted without thinking. He chuckled, his free hand was on your head as he held you even tighter. “Do you want to cum, soldier?” He asked. “Hmm?”

“I...Yes, Captain,” You said breathily.

“Then ask,” He snarled.

“May I cum...Captain?” You forced out as his fingers kept a delicate pace.

“Mmmm,” He purred, his fingers sped up and you gasped. “Yes, you may, soldier.”

Your back arched as he stirred your nerves and the tensity met a fever pitch. Your hand was on his thigh without thinking, your nails digging into his flesh as you came with a suppressed moan. He didn’t stop until you were shaking against him. You felt so weak; so helpless. Why did your body do this to you? Why did you allow it to?

Steve’s body rippled the water as he moved. He came up in front of you as he spread your legs wide. He lifted you as he brought his knees up onto the bench. He reached down to align himself with your legs splayed around his thick torso. He rubbed his cock along your folds before pushing inside and you sank back against the ledge. He pressed himself to you, your shoulders against the lip of the tub as he impaled you entirely.

You were trapped between him and the wall of the tub. His arm bent behind you as he began to work in and out of you slowly. He bent his head and nuzzled your hair, inhaling you as he picked up his pace. A rush of water added to the whirlwind as you were rested just in front of a jet. You moaned and braced the side of the tub as Steve rutted into you in sharp jolts. His grunts filled your ears as he covered your body with his. You felt as if you were suffocating against him.

Steve thrust deeper and harder into you. The water splashed around him noisily and mixed with the animalistic noises that rose from both of you. Your walls were trembling, clenching around his cock as you came again. Your entire body shook as you were caught in a cluster of delight and detest. He slowed and his motion grew more deliberate.

His pelvis rocked against you in long thrusts and his head dipped down beside yours. He groaned, a gravelly rasp in your ear, and you felt his release. He bottomed out as he spasmed erratically. He leaned against you heavily and stilled, his breaths deep and throaty. You trembled and your heart raced. Your lungs felt as if they were filled with rocks and your body locked up.

“Get off!” It was a thin croak. “Please, get off of me.” You pushed on his shoulders. “Get off!!” Your voice only grew louder as the panic swept over you. “Steve, get off of me!”

He sat back, still inside of you as he caught your hands as you struck out at him. “What the fuck?” He tried to still you but you couldn’t stop. “Get a hold of yourself, soldier.”

“No, no, no,” You twisted your arms away from him. “I can’t--can’t---breathe.” You clutched your chest.

“Shh,” He made to pull out but only pushed back in again. “Let me calm you down.”

“No!” A wave of anger came over you as quickly as the panic.

This time, you didn’t miss. Your fist met with Steve’s jaw and his cock slipped out of you as he staggered. You brought your legs up and kicked him away from you. You struggled to push through the water and evade him but he latched onto you swiftly. You swung around with your elbow and caught him in the mouth. As he stumbled, you shoved him and he caught himself on the edge of the tub. You acted without thinking; you grabbed a hank of his dark hair and bashed his head into the raised lip.

You let go and retreated without looking behind you. He groaned and rolled over so that he was sat limply on the bench. His head lolled and blood ran from his lip and eyebrow. You covered your mouth as you blindly climbed the steps. Slowly his hand came up to hold his battered head. The adrenaline coursed through your veins and you searched around for your clothes. You dressed clumsily as you rushed across the room.

You could hear the water move and you knew he would come after you. You ran to the door and glanced back. Steve gripped the side of the tub as his other hand cradled his head. He was unsteady but not unable. You pulled open the door and dash out into the hallway. Your wet feet clapped on the floor as they echoed away from the pool room; away from Steve.

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mainly-kpop · 6 years ago

Text

Viagra Series

Jimin

Word count: 3298

Warnings: smut obviously, pill taking, public sex, dickhead!Jimin, praise kink bc it's Jimin duh. Public humiliation

Somethings he said were just too far. So slipping him a pill found in a bathroom, with a little help from a friend, seems like the best bet. What could go wrong?

90% of his personality was his dick, there was no doubt about that. The way he walked and talked, the way he carried himself. Dick. God knows how people were friends with him, how people hung about him like he wasn’t insufferable. If you cut his dick off, would he be nicer? She wondered what cutting 7 inches off someone’s personality would be like.

‘Can you stop glaring at him across the table, you look fucking crazy.’ Jungkook whispered, tearing her ice cold stare away. She felt Jungkook ease the fork out her hand, placing it down gently on the table. She sighed smiling at the boy beside her. They were the same age, clicking almost instantly. You could find them running about doing, admittedly, the most questionable shit. The older boys probably wished they were more mature together, but everyone knew that wasn’t going to happen.

‘I just fucking hate his face dude, he’s infuriating.’ She spoke uncandidly, not worrying about anyone over hearing. Everyone seemed to be wrapped in their own conversations to even pay attention. Or so she thought.

‘Who’s face do you hate?’ He spoke, attention turning to her. Everyone’s conversations dropped, just to hear this drama. Her icy look returned to Jimin, nails going for the fork before Jungkook whipped it away from her.

‘Yours, obviously.’ She replied, as if she cared what he thought. She hated him and it was known to everyone, they didn’t quite understand why. However, they made effort to keep them apart at all times.

‘Baby, you should put that fork down. It already looks like you’re getting a bit big for that dress.’ He replied, just as bluntly as she had. Returning back to his conversation like the last minute or so never happened. She could feel her blood boiling, the rage burning inside her. The whole table looked at him bewildered, yes they hated each other, but never had he taken it that far. She slid the seat out painfully slow, the tables in the near vicinity turning to look at her. Taking a breath, she let a stiff smile pass across her lips before stomping off to the bathroom. This stupid fucking party wasn’t worth this shit. Why did she have to get dressed up for some stupid Big (s)Hit party, when she wasn’t even part of the business. All busy and important people, crowded around cramped tables, making polite small talk. She sighed, slamming and locking the door behind her, throwing her bag onto the sink. She let a frustrated groan slip past her gritted teeth. He was a dick, a massive fucking insufferable dick.

‘That was fucking out of order Jimin.’ Jungkook lectured, standing up too, ready to follow his best friend.

‘I don’t know why you stand up for her so much, she’s not that special. Her pussy must be top class I guess.’ He shrugged, not caring who of these classy business men heard. Jungkooks eyes narrowed, hoping to god his band mate could feel the pain he was inflicting on him with his mind.

‘For your fucking information, we aren’t fucking. We never have been, she’s just a really fucking good person. You would know that if you weren’t such a cunt.’ Jimin stood up defensively on the other side, Jin standing quickly slamming a hand down on the table.

‘Jungkook go after her, and watch your fucking language. Jimin sit the fuck down, you don’t have a leg to stand on here.’ Jimin threw himself back down in his seat, foot colliding with the table leg. Jungkook gave him one more glare before storming off to the bathroom.

‘Y/N, it’s me let me in.’ The door opened, he pushed his body through the little gap she made. He placed his ass on the counter, sighing.

‘What the fuck does he think he’s about, I mean- wait, you don’t look mad.’ She smiled, lifting herself up onto the counter beside him. A little packet resting between her fingers, tapping lightly against the tip of her middle finger.

‘What are those?’ Jungkook asked, only ever so slightly terrified of the response. She snorted, handing him the little slither of plastic. Reading the name he snorted, passing them back to her.

‘I found them on the counter. Clearly one of these business men were expecting to get lucky.’ She whispered, popping one of them out and looking at it, throwing it in the air and catching it swiftly.

‘But that doesn’t explain why you’re not pissed about Jimin anymore. I mean what he said was out of order, everyone is mad at him.’

‘So do you want to help me get revenge? If he can embarrass me so candidly in public, let’s do the same to him.’ She spoke, thrusting the little pill into his hand. He took a second to look between her and the pill, she couldn’t be serious. Then he thought about it properly, in reality it was only a boner, he was only going to be publicly embarrassed. Its nothing he hasn’t done to her. He smirked, devious smile painting his lips gripping the pill in the palm of his hand. They left at the same time, getting weird looks from old men and posh women. Jungkook placed his hand on her lower back, leading her to her seat. She sat down fixing her dress, Namjoon apologising for Jimin.

‘You owe her an apology, dick head.’ Jungkook whispered in his ear, using it as a distraction to drop the pill in his drink, it fizzed quicker than he thought, stepping away to sit in his own seat.

Jimin looked at her across the table, her death glare still set on him. Fuck he felt like an asshole, there’s things you don’t say to people, no matter how much you’re trying to hurt them. He tipped his drink back, giving himself whatever liquid courage he could find.

‘Can I speak to you for a second, alone?’ He whispered, bending down to her level making sure to keep eye contact. She sighed, rolling her eyes. Giving Jungkook one last look, she stood from her chair following him out the room.

‘Listen I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-‘

‘It doesn’t matter whether you meant it or not. You said it, think of something better than “I didn’t mean it”. That’s a bullshit apology.’ She quipped quickly, not letting him spout off the usual rehearsed one. He sighed running his hand through his hair in frustration, he didn’t know what to say now. He felt a stir in his stomach, causing him to roll his neck, letting his eyes flutter closed. Why now? He tried to focus, to direct his attention to anything but his growing erection. It proved futile however, the tent in his pants becoming more and more obvious. He growled deep in his throat, turning on his heel and heading for the bathroom. He didn’t lock the door behind him, too bothered about getting rid of this stupid fucking boner.

She stood baffled for a moment. Why the fuck did he just storm off like that? Why would he try to apologise then storm off, what was his game? She huffed rolling her eyes and storming towards the closed door, yanking the handle harshly before letting herself in the room. He wasn’t against the sinks so she assumed he was in the stall.

‘Why the fuck would you storm off like that? Like what the hell is your problem with me Jimin? I tried so hard for so long, your harmless pranks and witty remarks became too much, you’re such an asshole you know that?’ She ranted openly, she heard nothing coming from the stall bar some heavy breaths and whimpering, was he crying? She pushed at the stall door, locked, of course.

‘Jimin let me in for fuck sake, or at least come out. We need to deal with this properly.’ He rolled his eyes, letting his dick go, sighing loudly. He slipped the lock open, letting the door slowly swing open. She gasped at the sight before her. His skin that was on show glistened with a light sheen of sweat, trousers and boxers draped messily around his ankles. His head was thrown back, lips parted, eyes half closed, hand wrapped tightly around his dick.

‘You just gonna stand there opening and closing your mouth like a fish? Do me a favour sweetheart, lock the fucking door and help me out here.’ Her mouth clamped shut, her fingers quickly but shakily locking the door. What was she supposed to do now, it’s not like she could just get on her knees in the stall. Realising slightly too late, she should have left. Let him lock the door himself.

‘You’re a lot bigger than I thought Jimin, you know with your height and all...’ She spoke, brash words cutting the air. It was only fair after what he said to her. A dark chuckle sounded behind her, his fingers sliding along her shoulder.

‘How about we get you out of that dress, show you exactly what I can do, hmm?’ He questioned, lust dripping from every word. He stood behind her trousers forgotten in the stall, boxers now covering himself. She shrugged, pulling down the zipper with ease.

‘Sure why not, since you don’t like me in it anyway.’ The words stinging his ears, grabbing her shoulders he turned her to look at him. His thumb grazed her cheek, her eyes shifting up to look at him.

‘I only said that to annoy you. In reality, you look so fucking good I can’t resist any longer. I can’t focus on conversations, all I can focus on is your laugh. I can’t deal with Jungkook being so close to you, because I want it to be me. I want you so fucking bad.’ He whispered, the softness in his voice in deep contrast to the words he spouted. She searched his eyes for a lie, he was a liar, he had to be. He furrowed his eyebrows, giving up on waiting for an answer, instead slamming his lips to hers. If she wouldn’t vocalise it she would show it. She stood stunned for a minute, the softness of his lips on hers, man they were so soft. He bit down on her bottom lip bringing her back to reality, she kissed back returning all the hunger he was dishing out.

‘Fuck.’ He muttered against her lips, a little whine bubbling in her throat. His hands trailed over the silk fabric of her dress, enjoying the sensation under his fingertips. She moaned against his lips as his hands rested on her ass, squeezing gently.

‘Take it off baby.’ He whispered, kissing softly down her jawline, nibbling when he reached her earlobe. The fabric slipped past her shoulders, tickling the skin on her arms as it slid so effortlessly down her body. He stood back admiring her body, the only underwear she had was a pair of lace panties. He smirked, tugging one of her nipples between his fingers. Her head rolled back, a breathy moan slipping between her lips.

‘No bra, and look at those panties. We’re you expecting something tonight?’ She groaned, yes. That was the simple answer she was expecting to get lucky. Jungkook promised there was going to be lots of successful and attractive men here. He failed to mention the successful were old, and the attractive were married.

‘Jungkook promised me successful men, he failed to mention ages.’ She replied, breathing laboured due to his roaming hands, and the way he was still playing with her nipple. She heard a genuine laugh escape Jimin’s lips, the smile lasting long after the giggle died.

‘Typical Kookie, but hey, not to toot my own horn but I think I’m pretty successful. I guess I’m not so bad in the looks department either.’ He commented, taking his fingers off her nipple. He lifted her with ease onto the counter, replacing his fingers with his lips, making her push her chest into him.

‘I think you’ll do.’ She mumbled, his lips detaching with a pop. He raised an eyebrow, tutting at her. His fingers trailed up her inner thigh, resting quickly on the wet spot of her panties.

‘You’ll have to do better praise wise baby. Or all you’ll get is punishments.’ He growled, suddenly very serious. ‘So will you make me feel as good as I can make you? Or...’ He trailed off, slipping her panties to the side rubbing his finger through her arousal. Gathering enough on his finger, he slipped it between her lips. ‘Am I going to have to punish you?`

‘No punishments, I’ll be so good for you I promise.’ She whimpered, his finger dripping in her arousal, now perched between her lips. She gave it a suck, cleaning it for him. He hummed in approval, slipping her panties down her hips, letting her flick them off. Their lips connected in a messy kiss, both nipping at each others lips any chance they got.

‘Jimin, fuck me please. I need it so bad.’ She whimpered, deciding they didn’t have time for foreplay, someone was probably already looking for them. He groaned into her mouth, slipping his boxers easily down his ass, kicking them in the same direction of her panties.

‘Fuck, Jimin its so big, please.’ She whined, letting every shred of self control go. He smirked, enjoying the begging and the praise. Sucking air through her teeth to suppress a moan, he rubbed the tip across her clit. He relished in the sound of her gasps, every time he so much as grazed her she whimpered. He took pleasure in the wet sounds between her thighs, the sound of his dick moving against her. It had him twitching to enter, so he did.

The moans she released were porn worthy. He slapped a hand over her mouth, muting her for any passers by, his own grunt as he bottomed out filtering through her ears. She adjusted to the stretch, walls tightening to urge him into moving. He groaned forehead falling forward into her chest, breath fanning against her nipple.

He pulled out slightly, snapping his hips back into her. Her eyes rolled back, a lewd moan slipping out her mouth past his fingers. He halted his hips, grabbing her chin forcing her eyes to his.

‘Baby, unless you got something filthy to whisper to me, keep it down. Don’t want us getting caught now do you?’ She shook her head, truthfully she really didn’t want to get caught. How was she supposed to keep quiet though with his hips snapping like that. Jimin groaned, finger tracing between their bodies, paying attention to her nipples before finding its rightful place. His thumb grazed against her clit, a muffled whimper escaping through her lips.

‘Fuck Jimin, it feels so good. So big, fuck I’m so close.’ She keened, melting her body into his as much as she could. His thumb rubbed rougher and faster circles into her clit. His lips sat close to her ear, whispering praises into her ear as she whispered them back.

‘Jimin I’m cumming, fuck yes right there!’ She screamed, a little bit louder than Jimin needed from her right now. His free hand clamped over her mouth once more, dick thrusting into her at the same speed his thumb moved over her clit. She came with a rather loud scream, back arching towards his body. Jimin let out a moan, thrusting as much as he could into her. He let his eyes trail to where their bodies connected. Watching himself disappear inside of her, her arousal dripping off his dick quickly became his undoing. She felt him twitch inside her, he came inside with a whimper.

‘Fuck you did so well.’ She praised, running her fingers through his hair. He chuckled, pulling out slowly, the sensitivity making him wince.

‘You didn’t do so bad yourself sweetheart.’ He spoke helping her off the counter, onto bambi legs. He giggled, doubling over at her attempt to walk.

‘Shut up idiot this is your doing!’ She complained, walking to the toilet stall to clean herself up.

‘I mean, if you hadn’t slipped me a mystery pill, I wouldn’t have needed you for this.’ He replied cockily. He knew, of course he fucking knew. She asked Jungkook for fucking help.

‘You, uh, you knew about that?’ She questioned, there was no point in hiding it now.

‘Honey, it was good in theory, horrible in practice. In other words little Kookie isn’t as discreet as he thinks.’ She sucked her teeth, stepping out the stall. Stepping into the dress she shimmied it up her body, Jimin already standing fully dressed. She casted a glance back to Jimin, waiting for him to zip her back up.

‘So if you saw him put the pill in your drink why did you drink it?’ He pondered the question for a second, kissing her shoulder as the zip reached the top.

‘As much as you hate me, I know you wouldn’t try and hurt me. You wouldn’t risk the other guys friendships. Also sorry, for um, everything.’ He mumbled. It was true, no matter how much she seemed to hate him she wouldn’t risk losing the other guys just for revenge. The sorry is what caught her off guard however, making her halt putting her shoe on.

‘Hold on what?’ she stood, flabbergasted. He scratched the back of his neck, running a hand nervously through his hair.

‘I’m uh, I’m sorry. I know I took it too far way back then. I just I liked you a lot, but you were always so quick witted and sassy. I thought the best way to get to you was through pranks and comments. Turns out it only drove you further away from me.’ His confession took her completely by surprise. True the syrup in her shampoo AND conditioner bottles was maybe a step too far. Just before a date no less. She shuddered thinking back to it, it took her 4 hours to stop feeling sticky.

‘It’s okay, I realise I’m not the most fun person to be around sometimes. Especially after, well you know.’ He knew, he knew all too well. That girl still doesn’t look his way. Ever.

‘I didn’t mind you cock blocking me, but did you really have to say “jimineee your mummy is outside to pick you up” like that?’ He cringed reliving the whole moment.

‘I was so drunk! Shut up!` She groaned, putting her shoe on after slapping his chest.

‘Okay, let’s move past it shall we?’ He proposed opening his arm for a cuddle, she rolled her eyes settling into them. She cleared her throat stepping back, straightening out her dress.

‘Okay, how do I look?’ She questioned, looking him up and down.

‘You don’t look like you just had your brains fucked out, if that’s what you’re asking of course.’ She sighed muttering “you never change” under her breath before slipping out before him.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Jungkook asked as she re-joined the table, watching Jimin walk back over too.

‘Oh just uh, talking to Jimin.’ She replied casually, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Doing her best to busy her hands.

‘Talking or fucking.’ He muttered in her ear. ‘Because I see no boner on him, and a nice little mark on your neck.’ She blushed crimson, Jimin staring her down like he was ready for round two. Meanwhile she had Jungkook in her ear tutting. ‘Naughty girl y/n, and in public too, I hope he punished you.’ She didn’t need to look to know he was smirking, the heat between her thighs budding again. Fuck, what was happening here

#bts #bangtan #bts one shot #requests open #bts smut #bts jimin #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts reactions #talking requests #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin

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makeyourfantasydreamscometrue · 4 years ago

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Falling for Hoseok chapter 2

Staying at home was boring, but it sure was nice to sleep in some extra days and not have to worry about anything.

Well. It was quiet.

Too quiet, that in your silence your mind started to drift. Maybe you needed to get a pet cat or something. There seems to be a depressing stillness to the air and you don't remember the last time you brought company over. You think about the guy that knocked into you. He was so sweet and handsome, a passing thought made you wonder what he was doing now. The way he looked at you when your bus drove away... The feeling of being cared for... You've haven't felt someone do that for you in a long time. Not since...

Your ex boyfriend.

You shake your head. I dont want to think about him, you say to yourself, he will spoil the mood.

You must be that lonely to be reading too much into every detail of a mere stranger who simply did an act of kindness towards you. You felt silly. Still, you remember his eyes, the tone of his voice. They told you that if it they were a story book, it would be the most moving of stories, filled with depth and care and love, the most gentle of them all. Something about him was filled with honesty.

You're crazy you chuckled to yourself. Time to get ready for bed, Y/N.

~~~

Days pass in your home slowly, but it gives you time to rest and recover your back, and soon, you're well rested for the next week of work. Your coworkers were happy to have you back, especially since the work pilled up on their desks when you left, so when you return to the office, you stay very busy and skip lunch trying to catch up with everything you missed.

It starts to rain and some of the lights click off, letting you know mainly everyone is leaving home, but of course, being the workaholic that you are, you stay overtime, where its just you and the clicking sound of the keys on your computer, and the cleaning lady who occasionally came in the mop around your feet while you sip your can of soda that you got from the vending machine in the office, an extra boost of caffeine in your blood to help give you energy.

Your eyes get tired and you yawn and rub them, stretching back in your rolling chair, and you take a minute to rest them and look out the window. Cars are passing by seldomly and the orange of the streetlights get blurred by the fat droplets dragging down the pane, playing their own competitive game and racing with each other to see who gets to the end of the glass first. You suddenly remember something that makes your heart sink a little.

Flashback

The streets are filled with laughter as you and him walk hand in hand, soaked to the eyelashes without an umbrella. Thunder roars from the sky.

"This is crazy, I love it!" you scream, doing a little twirl as he spins you around and you dance foolishly, not a soul in the streets around as everyone hides from the downpour in their houses.

"Why do you like the rain so much?" He yells over the sound of puddles being formed around you.

"Don't you feel free?" You say, making him smile widely as he looks at you, throwing your hands up. "Like the stress is left from your body and you're alive again?"

He chuckles and shakes his head at you, raking a hand through his hair to look at you better. "I feel like I need to run inside and take another shower, my shoes are soaked!"

You giggle and poke fun at him, sticking out your tongue. "Party pooper! You're no fun!"

He pulls you close to him and pushes the hair out of your face as his breath warms you. "No, but I can make it fun," he says slyly.

"And hows that?" you say, raising an eyebrow.

He smiles and leans in and kisses you, your heart soaring. He pulls away and locks eyes with yours and hands on your waist.

"You're beautiful, Y/N. I've never been this happy. Stay with me forever," he breaths over your lips, making you smile.

"I promise," you whisper, receiving his kiss.

End of flashback

You swallowed in your seat. Ouch, that wasn't what you wanted to think of right now on this peaceful night. You remember how much you guys liked each other, how it felt to be in his arms, kissing him. Now hes in the arms of another, and I'm the only one left with these stupid memories.

You remember it started slowly, the phone calls. The secrecy. Not wanting to spend time with you unless it was at home. Missing dates. Hanging out with his friends. You were started to lose him more and more. Until that fatefully heartbreaking day when you saw him in the streets, his arms around another girl, kissing against his car. He kissed her like he should have kissed you. He licked her lips and pulled on her body in the most intimate of ways, and said the same words you thought were only for you.

Stay with me forever, you're so beautiful.

You started to feel sick and thought Maybe its time to leave home now. I hate the rain.

Saving your work and turning off the computer's monitor, you decided to pack up your things and head for the train ride home. ~~~

As more weeks pass by it's the same as always, and you're okay, healthy, busy and quiet. You do what you have to do to get through the day, and your coworkers are more louder and excited then usual because it's Friday. You try not to get into too much conversation, looking at the screen monitor and avoiding eye contact as much as possible. When your boss dismisses you early, you run to get your purse and jacket and the sound of your name immediately being called behind you makes you cringe as you shut your eyes.

"Y/N! Where are you going?" They start to say collectively.

You prepare your face with a tight smile and turn around. "Hmm?"

"Don't you know what day it is? Its Friday!! Remember we said we were gonna check out that new club that just opened up downtown?"

"Oh, I Uh, I have a prior arrangement, sorry."

"Aww, it'll be fun though!!"

"C'mon, what could be more exciting then clubbing?" said while throwing his arms around two female coworkers as they giggled, another sleazy guy coworker that allot of the girls were crushing on. You tried not to roll your eyes, you honestly couldn't understand what they saw in him, to you he was annoying.

Sleeping. Reading my book away from all the noise. Being left alone. Not being around pointless make out sessions in the bathrooms and drunks. Sleeping.

"Sorry guys, but my... my goldfish is sick and I have to take it to the vet."

They all raised an eyebrow and you knew you had to come up with another excuse quick. "A-And my friend is in town and I have to help her get situated with her... her new apartment. She's coming now."

"How did she know you were getting off early when the boss just announced it now?" they said suspiciously.

You bit your lip. "I just texted her! Yes shes coming now. Gotta go but have fun for me and have a good weekend!" Before they could say anything else you scurried the hell outta there and made a run for it, rounding the corner of the block and suddenly wondering where you would go next. Your stomach suddenly was craving a warm coffee in this fall wind. You walked to the nearest bakery and bought a crepe and a coconut cream latte, then headed for your favorite park.

It was a little chilly and you hugged your latte cup closer to you for warmth as you looked up to the blue sky, the time already making it evening as the sun set to sleep. You felt so much peace but at the same time you felt alone. It was really silent and no one else was in the park, but at the same time, you wished for a little bit of change. Something exciting. You saw how those girls around you had best friends and the energy they had talking about just about anything. You kind of wished you had a chill best friend to talk to and hear you out and have laid back conversations and someone to sit on the bench with and have coffee and talk about their day. You closed your eyes and smelled the sense of rain in the air. You looked up and immediately remembered that the weather forecaster this morning mentioned a shower late evening. Sigh. Why does it always rain like this your heart dropped a little bit whether you wanted it to or not.

You sipped the last bit of your coffee and decided it might be best to start heading home. The clouds were quickly stirring up together and getting darker grey in color. Getting up from your seat, you headed for the nearest trashcan and chucked in your cup, but spinning around you saw a man standing before you, making you shriek.

"Eek!" you stumbled backwards, and he reached out and caught your elbows just in time.

"Whoa, that was close. Are you alright? I'm sorry for the scare."

The moment you locked eyes realization hit you, making your mouth drop at recognizing him as the guy who took you to the hospital months ago. The look on his face told you he remembered you to, and he broke out into a warm smile.

"Hey, aren't you the girl I bumped into before? The one I spilled coffee on?"

You chuckled a little at the memory. "Yeah, and you're the guy who was nice enough to take me to the hospital. How are you?"

"I should be asking you that question. How's your health and your back?"

"Oh, I'm fine," but you could tell he wasn't looking at you, but searching your body until they found your hands. He quickly picked them up, looking around and on your palms to see if the scratches were healed. You blinked at the sudden contact.

"No scars, that's good." He smiled a toothy grin before looking back at your face, and your heart squeezed suddenly.

He's more handsome then I remembered.

He suddenly realized he was holding onto your hands and softly but quickly let go. "I... I'm sorry. Sorry for that."

"Why are you sorry?" you said, smiling at him a little.

He chuckled, looking down to the ground and rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm naturally a touchy and friendly person. I hope that didn't make you feel uncomfortable."

You shook your head immediately. "Don't worry about it."

There was a small amount of tension and awkwardness as you both looked around the park, until you spoke again. "How did you know about this park? Not many people come by here."

"I know right? It's in the middle of nowhere." He said with excited eyes. "I found it because I saw you coming in here a few moments ago."

"You... You followed me here?" you said curiously.

He quickly fidgeted and looked for the next words to correct his sentence. "I... Not. No. I mean I, you looked so familiar, and then you disappeared behind the bushes so i was curious. It was like you evaporated in thin air! I'm not a creep I promise please don't think I'm weird," he mumbled with a cringed face at himself, and you laughed out loud.

"Don't worry, I don't think you're a creep," you whispered, making him smile in return. "I um, I come here sometimes to help me unwind in the day. I like it because it's quiet. It's kind of a secret though," you said bashfully, looking down at your feet.

"Don't worry, I'll keep your secret," he whispered sweetly with a playful wink, and you felt a little lighter instantly.

He has a pretty smile you thought. It immediately makes me want to smile back.

"I never got your name by the way. I'm Hoseok," he reached out his hand hesitantly, wondering if it was okay for you to take it. You reached out and took it warmly.

"Im Y/N," you said, and though the handshake was short,something about him made you want to connect your skin with his again and got slightly disappointed the moment he let go so soon.

"I um, thank you so much for all that you did to help me at the hospital. I know you felt like it was your responsibility or duty or something, but I still really would like to thank you somehow."

He shook his head and suddenly thought of an idea. "I know how you can pay me back. Let me take you out for coffee?"

Your heart thudded.

"Wait, how is that me paying you back?" you laughed.

"Fine, you can pay for the coffee then. Deal?"

"Deal."

"So, where shall we go?"

~~~~

You didn't mind going for another coffee with Hoseok even if you just drank one. He mentioned a cafe that was opened 24 hours, where he sometimes goes to when he cant sleep at night. When you arrived, it was beautiful, vanilla colored walls and honey brown trimmings, homey booths and the smell of warm caffeine and pastries and bread, little fairy lights that lined the windows and walls, a nice transition from the chilly air outside.

He was the perfect gentleman and pulled out your chair, gave you extra napkins and cutlery first before himself, and soon you were eating red velvet cake and coffee and asking about your day and personalities and things you liked to do for fun.

"I don't know, but I'm actually a much more of a boring person then you might think," you said to him, stirring sugar in your coffee.

"Try me,"he said in confidence.

"Well, my coworkers invited me to a night of clubbing, but i turned down their offer to go home, put on soft music in my pajamas and read a book."

You were afraid to look up at him after the little moment of silence, but when you finally did you saw him looking admirably while leaning his chin on his hand. "I like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Who wants to go meeting random strangers in the dark and drinking till you throw up? I think we're past the age of fooling around now. I'd much rather have meaningful conversations while making real relationships with people and getting to connect on an emotional level, like this."

"Me too. I guess its because I'm more quiet, but i value talk about this stuff then 'who did who last night' or what kind of Louis Vuitton bag did so-in-so get," you said, taking a sip of your coffee.

He nodded. "You're an old soul. I like it. I feel that we are more mature in our time then other kids."

You laughed at the term "old soul", but you had to agree that he was right. Maybe that's why you preferred to go to the park or the beach alone. You didn't quite find many people who "got you."

"So, what's something surprising about you that many wouldn't think by seeing at first glance?" you asked.

"That behind my tough guy persona I'm really emotional."

Your mouth dropped open and you weren't expecting him to say that.

"Really? Like how emotional?"

"Like, crying at sad movies, liking allot physical affection and comfort and feeding stray cats on the street emotional. I cant help it. I got more of my mother's side of the DNA."

You smiled. "That's actually pretty cute. I hate macho men who hide their emotions."

"My friends would all poke fun at me for it. But, I mean, why hide them? We're all human. I couldn't hide it if i tried anyways."

"I find that to be even more charming then those who wouldn't admit that! You're a real one," you giggled.

"See, this is why the universe thought we should be friends. You get it."

You must've talked for hours and it was getting late into the night now, the stars were coming out.

"Wow, we've talked for a while now. Look at the moon!" he pointed outside the window.

"It's so bright. Good thing I don't work on the weekends or I would've been dead tired."

He smiled. "I'm really glad you didn't go to that club tonight," he said honestly. "Then we wouldn't have met like this and talk like this. I feel like I've known you forever!"

You blushed. "I feel like that to, oddly."

"So," he looked at his watch. You felt sad that the day was over, but then he said:

"When are we doing this again?"

And that was when you met your best friend, Hoseok.

#hoseok #fanfic #angst #fluff #wonho fluff #monsta x #wonho x reader #lee hoseok fanfic

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brooklynislandgirl · 4 years ago

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{And ye, then the cheese stopped being molested, and I was given A Sin, verily, with much straight-faced enthusiasm, and the name of that sin was...} Murder.

{Thus delivered was the chile of green, and the enchilada thus did quake for not the gnashing of sharp teeth and batting of claw but for the glory that shone in the light of the Ice-bringer and the Heater of Worlds Unimagined. In praise, in praise I offer Thee....IA IA IA.} Cardinal Seven || -

“I hope you’ll serve under my command. I couldn’t have survived without you.”

The woman cups Admiral Tohm’s scarred face tenderly. Her eyes are soft and none could mistake the sweetness to her every breath. The time ticks a beat. Two.

“It would be my honour,” Shonn Volta answers.

Before either of them could explore the new found joy between them there comes a discreet alert at the door. The protocol droid on the other side has a polite invitation from Lord Vader that the new Admiral should join him on his private balcony which provides a gorgeous vantage of Coruscant spreading out far below, an ocean of light and shadow. His effusive joy is palpable four systems over.

Despite Volta’s unvoiced concern, Tohm takes only a few moments to make himself as pristinely presentable, then excuses himself from her company. The man sees this as an opportunity to converse with his new mentor, a man who he has nothing but the greatest respect and admiration for, something that borders on hero-worship.

When the door clicks behind him, Volta curses softly under her breath.

“Such goes the way when you watch the man you love leave you for his duty.” Keni’s voice is as soft as the trail of her fingers along the back of the chair. She materialises from nothing, grown tired of watching this little drama play out.

Volta turns on her heel and her yellow eyes narrow on Keni, seething orbs of fire that remind her of nothing so much as the fires of Mustafar. Sends a spike of revulsion through her sharp and deep and providing nothing more than support struts to the task at hand. The Imperial uniform looks much better than the rags Volta wore as a prisoner but do not suit the woman, is no improvement to the sour look on the woman’s face. ”What would you know of it, Jedi?” she all but spits the word as a curse.

More than you will ever know. “I think this is where you are mistaken. For I am not a Jedi. Perhaps I never was.”

“You certainly skulk about like one. Vader’s lapdog, aren’t you?” “Biting words from someone who owes her very existence to his mercy and intercession, both on Diab 6 and now. He has the Emperor’s ear, and were it not for Toh- ah, pardon. Admiral Tohm’s pleas moving him, then you would be one more unfortunate casualty of the hyperdrive malfunction like the rest of your friends.”

Volta’s hand strays toward her blaster, which in turn arches Keni’s brow. “I wouldn’t recommend-” She never gets to finish the statement. The woman draws her weapon. She is not as fast as Anakin by any means, nor is she as beautiful to watch but she manages to deflect the first bolt with the blade of her sabre, the second impacts the armour beneath her robes. Volta makes a break from the door but by a simple gesture and bearing down with the Force, Keni stops her. “I must say, I am disappointed in you. I thought you were so much smarter than that.” The woman turns and snarls. Keni only watches her impassively. “So much hate and contempt.” “You’re all bastards. You starved my people. You destroyed my world, my life!”

“These are the things that happen in war. Your parents hid you, when they discovered you were Force-sensitive. Perhaps if they hadn’t, you would not have needed Master Fisto or Anakin Skywalker to save you.” “They imprisoned me.” “Exactly.” A brittle smile that shows all of her teeth. Still holding Volta in place, she presses the button on the side of her sabre, retracting both the plasma blade and the knives that just from the pommel and the small cross-guard. A turn of her wrist and she sheathes it at her side. “But all of this is a digression. You see, Shonn, behind every great man is a woman. She might never wear a crown nor might she ever stand beside him as a wife or a lover, the mother of his children, but she will take it upon herself to reorder the universe to suit his whim, and she will do every necessary thing to ensure his safety. You and I both know this to be true, because you and I are both that woman. And I am protecting my world, and my life.” Both of which existed in one person. She closes her eyes a moment and tilts her head. She listens to the whispers of the Living Force, reaching out through every inch of the floors above her.

“But...we are not monsters. Because monsters steal children from their parents. Monsters enslave them. Monsters cannot love. And because I am not a monster I have chosen to spare you the agony of heartbreak.” She almost laughs at that, circling the woman and leaning into her. She gives credit where it is due, despite being held in place by the Force, she does not tremble. She does not beg. She does push back. Tries to make the blaster in her hand obey her will, but she was never trained. She was never made to suffer rather than take joy in the Force.

Keni comes to stand before her and lifts both hands. Slowly, almost lovingly, she begins to part the double-breasted gaberwool tunic. Volta is taller than she, is not as delicately built as Keni and there’s a tiny stir of envy when her skin begins to reveal itself, covered now only by the sleeveless under-tunic. Ignores Volta’s growl at the feel of her fingertips shadowing her collar bones, down to the scarred cleft between her breasts. Slowly Keni drags her gaze from the tops of their swells to the woman’s eyes. “This must have hurt like nine hells,” she murmurs softly. There’s a touch of empathy in her tone, the mark of a healer. “A replacement like this, the work is extraordinary. And how lucky are you that you have had not one heart, in this lifetime, but two.” Spittle, still warm, lands on her face and she wipes it on the sleeve of her robes. This breaks the eye-contact but not the Force-hold that Keni maintains. Volta perhaps does not realise what it was like working in the trenches, patching and re-patching the wounds sustained by the Troops and the civilians that the Separatists had fought. How difficult it was to sometimes keep a person still when you’d run out of medicine to dull the pain but you still had to remove limbs or organs too damaged to remain. How much control. How much emotion you had to swallow down like you were taught. The valves and wires inside the woman’s chest are now thundering in overdrive, pushing adrenaline though her system. “I promise I won’t keep it. I will see to it that it goes to someone worthy. Someone desperate for the life it will give, and in that way, you can go to the Force knowing that a part of you still exists, that it has helped.” The pressure from her fingers increases, bearing down on the woman’s skin. Bone offers so little resistance to wood, skin and tissue even less. There’s a struggle then, one that is real and terrible and leaves a rending in the Force as the women clash. Thing of it is though, all Volta fought for was her life. Keni fights for more than that. She’d heard from Palpatine’s own twisted lips as he said that should some tragedy or accident befall Anakin, that Tohm would make for a suitable replacement. No one, especially not Anakin or herself could have interpreted that as anything other than the veiled threat it was. One attempted on his life had already been made. The same conspiracy that had weakened Palpatine. Had Tohm and Tracta left well enough alone, Anakin ~who had survived his end of the intended assassination~ and she might have succeeded in riding the Empire of it’s terrible Master on Diab 6. It wasn’t as if the Prism was exactly well known among the populace. As it stands there now is seeded into her that every whisper of every shadow contains ill-will for Anakin, not the least of which is Tohm and his woman. Which leaves only one desperate recourse to her. And it wasn’t like Shonn Volta would have ever survived the Prism, was never meant to be free.

The cracking sound is almost swallowed by the piercing wail that starts the death throes as Keni’s fingers shove themselves through Volta’s meat. The spray of hot, fresh blood splatters her face, her chest, likely half the room, floor to ceiling. She grasps the mechanical heart and lets her fingers surround it as she licks her lower lip. “If it’s any consolation, Tohm will be joining you very soon. You’ll be together then.” As somewhere high above Anakin tells Tohm the last piece of advice he has to offer is to never accept the existence of a rival, Keni rips the woman’s artificial organ from her chest, and releases her from the hold, allowing her body to slump to the floor. A few moments later, Tohm’s body falls from the balcony, sending him flailing and plummeting into the depths of Coruscant.

Melakeni Ivers says nothing as she makes her way to the chambers afforded to Lord Vader, courtesy of the Emperor. Neither does she care that her robes are soaked in blood, that it turns her dark hair even darker. She cares for nothing as Anakin’s hand ~the one of flesh~ comes to cup her face. His eyes scour over her with a thousand questions and ten times that much concern. Half in and half out of his armour he looks exhausted. The last few weeks have been hell on him, have sucked from his being every ounce strength and purpose from him, leaving him to look very much like he did the day she was brought to him in the Temple below them. Only this time they are not surrounded by the 501st. In many ways that would be so much better. They both know not a word can be spoken. Neither of them have a single doubt that these rooms are bugged a hundred different ways and that Palpatine knows all that happens. Sees and hears every single thing.

She drops the heart uncaring of it at the moment and lets it thud dully in the folds of her robes. Her hands, still sticky and wet reach up. They take hold of his face and she pulls him down to her.

She doesn’t need to speak for Anakin to understand that everything she does is for him. And no life, perhaps including her own, is as important. But she reminds him again, silently and suffused through the Force, as she captures his mouth with her own, in a kiss as deep and full of her love as any that has come before and will come after.

Soon, Za’lali. He can’t outlast us forever.

#Mahalo!Salt Queen <333 #Leaves from the Dreaming Tree #Pools of Sorrow-Waves of Joy|Anikeni #Across the Universe|Star Wars au #One Light in Darkness|Post ROTS au #blood tw #murder tw #mynameisanakin

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anotherhawk · 6 years ago

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5 Times Crowley Died Carelessly (And 1 Time Aziraphale Insisted on Caring) Ch1 - Good Omens Fanfiction

Summary: The fire in the bookshop was the first time Crowley had ever experienced the horror and loss of suddenly and violently being the only occult/celestial being on Earth. Aziraphale, on the other hand, has had plenty of chances to get used to that feeling over the previous 6000 years. Spoiler alert: he hasn't got used to it. Not even a little bit.

Warning for repeated temporary character death and an exceptionally loose and inaccurate account of the Book of Genesis

This should be 6 chapters. You can read it on AO3 here or click the read more below.

He wasn't sure just why he had followed Cain out into the east. If anyone asked he'd probably say that the first murderer seemed an ideal figure to hang around, what with his general remit being to cause trouble and everything. Truthfully he just hadn't really known what else to do. He couldn't have stayed - there. The grief of Eve and Adam had been too much for him to bear.

Most of the time he stayed in his snake form, slithering along in Cain's shadow, unseen or at least unacknowledged, keeping the worst of the weather and the wild animals away from the human and, discreetly bringing him food and water on those occasions when Cain spent more than a day or so lying under a tree, staring dry-eyed at his hands.

Every time he thought about showing himself – saying something. But he couldn’t imagine what he could say that could possibly make any of this better, and he could easily imagine plenty of things he could say which would make it worse. No, the thing of it was, he didn’t understand what had happened. Not really. He didn’t understand and he was pretty sure he was the one responsible.

Eventually Cain cried less and walked more, finally coming to a beach where he built himself a little hut out of assorted tree bits woven together and took up fishing. It wasn’t much of a life, all told, but then no one had much of a life really. There should be more than this, shouldn’t there? What was any of this supposed to accomplish?

As always his questions went unanswered.

With an uncomfortable pang he left Cain behind and spread his wings to fly across the ocean. From there he sort of just kept going – flying, walking, slithering , whatever it took to keep moving and not have to stop and think. Days, turned to nights, turned to days again, and the weather got colder until eventually the rains fell frozen from the sky and gathered in heaps so white they reminded him of Heaven and he hated it. They burned too, in a way that fire didn’t, and at the foot of a mountain range he stuck his hand deep into a drift, wondering if this was holy. It wasn't, he eventually decided. It was just cold.

He gazed up at the clouds obscuring the mountain top. Maybe the view would be clearer from the top. Maybe he'd be able to look across the world and understand what it was all for. Maybe, if he was that high up, She wouldn’t be able to ignore him anymore.1

He decided to climb the mountain on his own two feet, or at least the feet he was currently manifesting. Felt like it was the sort of experience you should work for, and the burn of the ice on his feet distracted him from everything inside his head.

It quickly became apparent that this was more of a struggle than he’d been expecting. In spite of his stern words to the contrary his corporation keep insisting that it needed more and better air to breathe than was available. As a sort of revenge he stopped breathing at all, but developed a splitting headache after an hour or two. And the cold just got worse, the wind biting right through his robes until he couldn’t feel his fingers or toes at all, and his body just wouldn’t stop shaking.

Staring vaguely at the white blotches covering his fingers, he sat down heavily on a miraculously handy rock outcrop, sticking out of the snow field. Just a few moments rest and then he'd either carry on or head back down.

The snow was falling thicker again. He tilted his head back and looked up. “What iss thiss all about?” he asked, scowling as his tongue felt more clumsy in his mouth than usual. Really this body was more trouble than it was worth. “Was it my fault?” he wondered forlornly, and he could pretend he was talking to the uncaring sky, rather than an uncaring anyone else.

He'd spent time with both Cain and Abel as they'd been growing up. Keeping an eye on them, enjoying the day to day family drama. He'd been fascinated when instead of joining his parents in foraging in the forest Cain had started collecting seeds and planting them, letting food grow on the first family's doorstep instead of having to go off and find it. He'd taken to following Cain around his fields and orchards, asking what he was doing and offering suggestions until finally Cain had shoved a couple of stick tools at him and told him to help.

Well, helping wasn't the sort of thing he was supposed to do, but he figured that any way of getting close to the humans was probably alright. 2 So sometimes he and Cain would sit and talk in the fields at the end of the day, watching the sunset. And sometimes Cain would complain about his brother, about being overlooked, and about favouritism and, well, he had never been anyone's favourite anything, and so he sympathised, he really did.

He sympathised. And he was supposed to stir up trouble. And he'd been bored. So yes, he'd egged Cain on a bit. He'd wanted some fireworks, metaphorically speaking. A bit of a barney, a good old-fashioned family argument with everyone drawn in and taking sides.

He'd never imagined what could happen. He'd never seen it coming.

Of course he knew about mortality, there had been plenty of animal deaths by this point. If it came to that he'd seen angels die in the War, and even more die in the Fall. But this had been different. He'd watched Cain and Abel grow up. He'd seen them running and playing together, seen Abel cry in sympathy when Cain fell and bloodied his knee, and he'd seen Cain give up his last few figs to share with his brother. He'd thought they loved each other. He'd thought he understood that at least. But he'd seen Abel lying there on the ground, his face frozen in eternal surprise, and he'd seen Cain standing over him, the rock in his hand, and he'd realised he didn't understand anything.

It was only a few words. Only a little temptation. “They are made in your image though, aren't they?” he shouted into the storm. “I suppose overreacting is part of the design!” He stood up dramatically, arms thrown wide and immediately got buffeted off his perch by the wind and swept a little way down the mountain.4 He picked himself up and trudged doggedly back up the mountain. “Where was I?” he asked blearily, trying and failing to find his rock. At least he wasn't shivering now. Small mercies and all that. Actually he didn't even feel that cold anymore. Clearly he was getting the hang of this corporation lark. He looked up towards the top of the mountain. Might as well press on then, really.

He wished he'd said something else to Cain. Wished he'd said something afterwards. Eve's scream echoed through his mind.

Cain had been cast out. Cursed. So this couldn't have been part of the divine plan, could it? All of this, all of the little family's suffering, this wasn't by Heaven's design. He had seen the shock and horror on Aziraphale's face, had been certain it was mirrored on his own. Not Heaven's design, and it couldn't be Hell's because he was Hell's agent and he hadn't meant to. It had just been a few words... But that left it being something Cain had chosen to do himself, and that couldn't be right, could it? He'd loved his brother, hadn't he? If it was a choice, why make that one?

Snow was falling on his face. The ice was hot against his back. He'd just lie here for a minutes more then he'd get up and be on his way. He'd just -

1Actually if we accept that She is omnipotent we must accept that She is capable of ignoring anything She chooses to. However if we accept that She is omniscient then we must accept that She is also constantly aware of everything that She is actively ignoring. In this way, as in many others, we should probably accept that the demon-who-will-be-known-as-Crowley is something of a headache for all concerned.

2This was the same logic that he had earlier used to justify being Eve's first choice of babysitter on date nights. His angelic counterpart3 kept a dignified distance. Crowley invented peek-a-boo, claiming he was taunting the babies for not understanding object permanence.

3Aziraphale.

4It's possible this could be considered a minor form of divine smiting as a punishment for insolence. It's more probable that it was simply weather. It may even be possible that were we to suppose divine influence in this moment that it was intended as a message along the lines of 'Get off the blessed mountain you bloody idiot, you're literally a snake, you're sitting in a blizzard, and you're not even wearing shoes.'

It had been the first truly harsh winter and Aziraphale had been kept busy. Eve was expecting again and now.... now the boys were gone the little family had struggled to survive. He'd started off trying to be circumspect about his miracles but in the end he'd just made sure that the fields yielded a full harvest whether anyone was tending them or not, and even then as winter wore on far too long he'd resorted to miracling the food stores full again.

It was perfectly legitimate, he told himself. The humans were struggling because of demonic action. Angelic intervention was necessary to keep them going.

It had been demonic action, hadn't it? He'd seen the demon, Crawly, talking to Cain not long before the murder, and Gabriel had certainly been satisfied with that as an explanation. Only Aziraphale had also seen the look on the demon's face afterwards, and that hadn't been satisfaction at a job well done or even enjoyment. That had been bewilderment and grief.

He would have liked to have had a chance to maybe talk to the demon about if after – get the other side's perspective, so to speak. But he'd been far too busy trying to help the poor parents, and by the time he'd thought about it again Crawly had gone and he hadn't come back.

Which was fine by him, really. It stood to reason that his job would be much easier if his demonic counterpart decided not to bother doing his.

Still, it had been a long hard winter and it wasn't surprising that he felt a little odd, he considered, as he watched the sun rising over the hillside. It was only the nature of the oddity that struck him as peculiar. 5 He felt alone, which was strange, since he'd been the only angel permanently stationed on Earth since the Garden. So that shouldn't be a new feeling at all. He'd noticed when the others left, or at the very least he'd felt their absence which was sort of the same thing. So why was it hitting him harder today? Perhaps he should check in with Heaven? He didn't have anything in particular to report, there had been nothing significant since Abel's death, and after the way Gabriel had spoken to him then, he wasn't exactly in a hurry to repeat the experience...but perhaps he should? Perhaps he was lonely. Angels were supposed to be social creatures after all.

But that wasn't exactly what this felt like. It wasn't coming from him, it was coming from the world. As though some vital piece had been ripped out, leaving nothing but a jagged hole. Something was missing. Let's see, he was here, and the humans, and...oh. Oh, dear. That was about it, apart from the expected assortment of God's creatures. Just him and the humans and a jagged hole where his demonic counterpart should be.

This was the sort of thing he should investigate, wasn't it? Heaven would surely expect a report on demonic activity. And if he focused he thought he could sense where Crawly had last been – where he'd died presumably. Or discorporated, rather? This was all so new.

He made absolutely sure that the humans would be fine on their own for a while and set out, flying across the world in a matter of days. He could have done it faster, of course, but then someone might have noticed and he'd really rather not have to explain what he was doing every time he turned around.

Eventually he found himself flying up the side of the tallest mountain in the world. He was well above the snow line and good gracious it was cold. He shivered and automatically performed a minor miracle to keep the air immediately surrounding him at a comfortable temperature.

He found the remains of the demon fairly easily, thawing the ice around the sad little lump so he could dig it out of the snow. There was no sign of violence or injury. It looked as though Crawly had just laid down and died.

“What in the world were you doing up here?” he asked, knowing that he was talking to nothing but a husk of flesh, the demon himself long since departed. “And why didn't you just miracle yourself warm for heaven's sake?”

In death the demon didn't look especially intimidating.6 In fact, if it wasn't for the pale skin and those snake eyes, Aziraphale could easily have mistaken the body for human. Remembering how Adam and Eve had acted he reached out to close the eyes over only to find that in his transition between snake and human Crawly apparently hadn't bothered to install eyelids. He clicked his tongue and smoothed out the frown lines from the brow instead. Evil was apparently troubling even to its instigators. He didn't know how to feel about that.

There didn't seem to be anything for him to do here. This wasn't any hellish scheme, Crawly had simply got too cold and discorporated. Probably he was down in hell right now, doing whatever it was demons did on their own time. No doubt either he or another demon would be back sometime soon and the status quo would resume. In the meantime he should get back to the humans, no point in lingering here.

He lingered there, staring down at the red curls strewn across Crawly's face. Enemy or not, empty husk or not, just leaving him here didn't feel quite proper. The remains of a demon shouldn't just be left lying around, should they? That had to be some kind of hazard. The humans might come here at some point and it might be dangerous.

Justifications firmly in place, Aziraphale carried Crawly down the mountain and buried him beneath an apple tree.

5Not that he had much to compare it to.

6Aziraphale had never been especially intimidated by him in life either.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #my writing #ineffable husbands #death tw #hypothermia tw

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vanaera · 6 years ago

Text

The Sprout

Synopsis | It's Valentines Day and Jeon Jungkook, for the very first time, attempts to go beyond his pseudonym 'Little Prince' who's sending you love letters anonymously, to spend the day of the hearts with you a little more than what bestfriends usually do (OR a series of events where Jungkook oddly fails and succeeds at the same time in making your heart flutter and it looks like this day might end up to something more than he initially planned). Genre | Fluff Pairing | Jungkook x reader (football player!jk + writer!you / College!AU) Wordcount | 5.4k

Read more of football!jk drabbles in The Prince and His Rose

There will always be an uncanny way how past events can catch up to you. A sliver of early morning light, a resemblance of a familiar face from a faded poster, a sudden storm of blurred smiles in the tornado of thoughts–everything a dizzying state of déjà vu. It’s the kind of thought that stays in the back of one’s mind; not at all stale but so fresh that it was nearly a feeling, with all a feeling’s overwhelming power to kill other thoughts.

Jungkook feels this when his eyes met yours across the corridor.

Your eyes have always been familiar. Warm brown and homey, Jungkook always feels the calm whenever he looks at them. It’s probably the familiarity they offer, the result of more than ten years of knowing you and memorizing the small details of you on the back of his palm, enough for him to trace the constellations of your face under his lids when you happen to appear in his dream. However, it’s not just the familiarity. Now, the palpitations of his heart, the heat that rises to his cheeks, and the songs from the birds in his rib-caged heart are enough to tell him it’s more than just knowing you too well.

He’s in love with you–probably even more than that.

Your name weighs so much more on his tongue than the countless people who gravitated around him through the years, and your smile is enough for him to get him through the whole day as the image of you always stay imprinted in his mind, a memory fresh enough for him to bring back before his eyes even if he didn’t intend to. It doesn’t even leave him a choice; he always sees you.

He’s been stubborn for the past two years to acknowledge that his heart is bearing feelings more than what friendship demands and now that the knowledge of being in love with you has finally sunk in, it’s only then that he realized that everything about you comes in full force. What were trivial things before in the back of his mind are now a magnitude of-of everything! A smile, a laughter, a contact of your skin against his–everything is overwhelming and he’s relishing in every bit of it.

“Hey, Kook,” you said, lips pulled into semi-smile as you raise your knuckles aligned to his.

Jungkook quirks a smile in return and bumps his fist with yours. The past ten years with you are not enough to erase the things you’ve made tradition with him, promises from juvenile pinky swears of a “special greeting just between the two of us” solidified in the years you’ve grown with him. And damn, he likes every bit of it but it’s not like he’d admit it to you aloud.

Everything he’s feeling right now are yet for you to know. He needs more time and courage to make you fully understand how much you mean to him.

Jungkook could already feel the heat cupping the expanse of his cheeks, so he cracks a grin, grabs your backpack, and turns his back to head to the lecture room before you can even glimpse at the reds that may have already bloomed on his face.

“Hey! Give my bag to me!” you huff as you catch up to his walking figure.

“I’ll carry it,” Jungkook says, “it looks like you needed help doing it.”

“I do not!”

Jungkook laughs. You’ve been complaining about the ache on your back for the past week and you have the nerve to deny it with a straight face as if he hasn’t been giving you some back massage in between your breaks for the past days. Anyway, he won’t say it out loud. He knows you hate it when you appear weak and vulnerable to the people around you.

Jungkook glances at you. “What’s your first class?”

You grumble behind him, “Physics.”

“Then I’ll drop you there.”

“You sound like my dad, but whatever. You liked carrying my bag all the way to the next building? Be free to do so.”

Jungkook could feel a small, lithe hand make its way to hold his much larger one and before he can choke on his own breath, he mutters a rushed “I’ll be happy to do so, Y/N.” before falling into silence with you.

It’s four o’clock and his classes are finished and Jungkook feels like throwing up. It’s true that feelings do have this sickeningly delicious power to kill thoughts because for the past hour, one single thing is being stirred in his heart and mind: he’s about to fuck up.

Jungkook blames it on his damn friend and roommate, Park Jimin.

“So…whaddya gonna do on the day of the hearts?”

Jungkook looks up from the code he’s typing on his laptop to give his friend a raised brow. “Day of the hearts?”

Jimin scrunches his forehead. “Duh, Valentines. It’s five days from now and everyone’s been quipping about it since last week. Hell, I even saw some girl slip in a pink envelope in your locker for the third time this day.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Ugh, why do they keep on sending their confessions when it’s clear I already have set my eyes on someone.”

Jimin looks at him funny. “’Cus no one actually knows that you already have a special lady. Even Y/N doesn’t even know she’s the reason of your gooey heart eyes.”

“I do not have gooey heart eyes.”

“Yeah, you do. Alllll the time.”

“Fine,” Jungkook tears the headphones from his ears and sets it on his neck, “okay, I get it. I’m dumb and a big ass coward to admit to my bestfriend I’m fucking in love with her. But I already got things covered, man. Got the letter, the pink envelope, and the golden crown already prepared. I’ll drop it on the 14th in her locker.”

Jimin hums, totally unsatisfied. But before Jungkook goes back to his homework, his friend’s words stuck word per word on the back of his mind that prevented him to have an ounce of sleep for the next few days:

“Don’t you want to do something more than just sending her love letters in the guise of the ‘Little Prince’?”

This is the reason why he fucking spent his two-hour break rummaging through his closet for an “eyecandy” get-up–the ever plain black bomber, black shirt, and ripped jeans–instead of napping and redeeming the dark circles under his eyes. This is also the very reason why he is currently dying on the bench of the campus grounds after you just replied to his “Hey, you free today?” with “Yeah, what’s up?” Why his hands are shaking and sweaty and his chest feels like about to combust? He just fucking sent you an adrenaline-induced-self-hatred-and-anxiety-propelled reply of “Valentines, hoe.” And all of this just happened FIVE MINUTES ago and he’s not yet doing anything in his listed plan and he’s already fucking things up!

Fuck Park Jimin, fuck this goddamn stupid plan, everything’s gonna fail and–

“What’s up, Kook?”

Jungkook nearly cries out a banshee scream but luckily, a heavy hand slapping on his shoulder is enough to wake him up.

“My God, what’s up with you? Are you okay?” you plopped down beside him.

“O-oh, umm yeah, Y/N, hi!” Jungkook stammers. You’re still dressed in the same clothes this morning–rose pink oversized sweater and faded blue jeans, probably forgoing your three-hour break to finish the storyboarding of the new play for the drama club with the other writers. But still, you look as dazzling as ever and Jungkook finds it necessary for his poor heart to add just an inch of space between you two before your hand could graze his burning skin.

If you’re unsettled by the blatant weirdness he’s displaying in public, you didn’t show it. “Soo,” you look at him, “what’s with Valentines?”

“Oh-Umm. We’re single?”

Your mouth hangs open. “Yeah, well no shit, Sherlock Jungkook. What’s that got to do with you asking me if I’m free–oh wait,” you frowned at him, “are you trying to prank me? ‘Cause if you are, I’d rather spend–”

“No, this is not a prank! I-I-” Jungkook closes his eyes and breathes. “I got some tickets to an open-ground concert tonight and obviously, I could have asked anyone to come with me–because you know? The Jeon Effect is irresistible–but since you’re single and you’re ready to mingle, why not hang out with me?”

“…So…your point is?”

Jungkook smiles, shoulders and hopes raised, “Go out with me?”

“You know, you could have just said that out loud without rambling some idiotic nonsense.”

“Where’s the idiotic nonsense in what I said?”

“You rhyming ‘single’ with ‘mingle’ and that goddamn Jeon Effect.”

“But it’s true! The Jeon Effect is irresistible!”

“Say that to my fist.”

“Hi Y/N’s fist! The Jeon Effect is really irresistible, no?”

“Oh, shut up!”

Thirty minutes later, you and a jumpy Jungkook are walking by the town plaza, heading to god knows what is stored in your bestfriend's mind. The concert is scheduled not any later than eight and the two of you are just wandering around to pass the free three hours.

Despite the straight face you're currently sporting, you don't actually mind spending the rest of your afternoon with him. Valentines is an overrated event, a marketing act to get couples to go out and spend and do extra cheesy public displays of affection. However, you can't deny the beauty lying beneath of it all. The town looked like spring in pastel pink swept over it: pink and red dozens of flowers filled every space and corner of the street in wrapped bouquets or wooden baskets, romantic designs in wall arts and frosted glass panes littered every store, and varying sizes of cut-out hearts hung above the streetlamps, stringed next to each other to form lines and lines of them that it seems like they’ve corded throughout the city. You might be biased because red is your favorite color but the beauty and art surrounding you cannot go unnoticed. It's there right around you, blatantly laid out just for you to see and look at–just like the stupid face your bestfriend is pulling right in front of you.

You don't know how the hell he is now stuck literally by your side when moments ago you're walking side by side, arms-length apart.

"So...where do you wanna go?" Jungkook asks.

"I don't know, wherever you wanna go to."

"Hmm," Jungkook looks around before stopping on something and then he's grinning back at you, "Let's go there, yeah?"

Before you can take a glimpse of what he saw, he's already running to the right side of the road, taking you in tow with your hand clasped in his grip, his warmth enveloping the entirety of your hand.

You don't even know why you're complaining mentally; you actually don't mind feeling his warmth against yours nor the fact that you're just following his lead to god knows where.

"You do know you have long ass legs, Kook, and I'm barely catching up."

Jungkook slows down a bit but not enough for you to pace back into walking, and oh, your hand still in his. He looks back at you, "Well, It's because you got cute little legs so you gotta catch up."

"Are we there yet?"

Moments of breathless huffs and people staring curiously at the both of you pass before Jungkook abruptly stops and breathes "We're here." A small shop is in front of you two with huge, clear glass windows that enable you to see the decorative displays of frosted pastries and fresh sandwiches. The pastel pink and white awning is tapered with gold lines and a cursive "Lovers' Lounge" is neatly drawn on the glass with a cute heart right beside it.

Jungkook hurriedly opens the door for you and you step inside to be hit with the enticing aroma of roasted beans and baked dough. Along with the sensation is a sickening view of countless couples sitting on heart-shaped couches fawning over each other that you can hardly see anyone touching the cakes and croissants served on their tables.

You immediately whipped your head to face your bestfriend. "Jungkook, I think this isn't the place we're supposed to go–”

"Good afternoon, Sir, what would you like to have with your girlfriend?"

Girlfriend?! Your mouth drops open and before you can voice out a "No, we're just friends," your bestfriend has already pulled you to his side with his arm wound around your waist, drawing you so close that you can smell the cedarwood he probably sprayed this morning.

"Umm, we would like two caramel macchiatos and a set of glazed doughnuts," Jungkook pauses and looks at you smiling. "What else do you like, my Y/N?"

What.the.absolute.fuck. Jeon Jungkook has finally lost his mind.

Taking in your scrunched forehead and ajar mouth, Jungkook cuts right in and finishes his order with "and a platter of carbonara, thank you." He then leads you to the right corner of the shop and before everything that just happened settle down in your consciousness, you're sitting face to face with your bestfriend wearing the dumbest grin he could ever pull.

"What the fuck, Jungkook?" you hissed, "What's with the arm thingy and-and-and the ‘my Y/N’ cringey shit? What–”

"Shh!" Jungkook clamps his hand over your mouth but you slap it away and scowled at him.

Jungkook chuckles, "My god, you look so cute right now."

"I ain't being cute! What the fuck just happened on the counter?"

"This is a couples' restaurant, Y/N. Jimin told me that they'll have all foods free for couples this Valentines Day starting from twelve noon until five, and look," Jungkook peeks at his watch, “it's 4:57. Just in time.”

"Oh...that's why you didn't pay anything on the counter."

"Exactly. Now we just gotta pretend we're a couple whenever the servers near us and we're good to go." Jungkook sits back and wiggles his eyebrows. "So what do you say?"

"Hmm'kay. I'm not saying no to free food after all, but," you faced him, your lips in a straight line, "next time you have some ridiculous shit up your sleeve, it would be nice if you inform me first, you know? I don't like surprises."

"You don't like surprises?" Jungkook gawks. "Then what about the impulsive camping I dragged you to last October? Or the surprise pillow fort I made on your room for your birthday last year? You were even getting cheesy with 'oh my god, Jungkook, thank you so much, I love you–”

"That's different! And-and I didn't even say 'I love you'–I just expressed my gratitude and appreciation with 'thanks, Kook, for being a great friend and all!'"

"Same context though," Jungkook shrugs, "I know you love me, just admit it."

When you don't answer, Jungkook laughs and it wasn’t long before the waitress comes with your order on the tray. As she places each dish on your table, you took a peek at your bestfriend who’s ogling the pasta platter and you think it wouldn’t hurt if you concede to his request. It wasn’t really a request, but with the way he’s been going nonstop about it whenever you hangout, it’s likely he won’t stop soon until he hears it. It’s not like you mind doing it anyway–probably close enough to liking it because your chest don’t feel so heavy when you mutter "Fine, I love you.”

The look on Jungkook's eyes is something else, something you've never seen before. It's warm and familiar that it's easy to draw out the loud and obnoxious six-year-old you've befriended with your large story book even after the years he has grown. But the way he's looking at you is different and you don't know what the hell it means or the sudden warmth that wraps around you when it should be only felt by your right hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

Under the soft tangerine glow of the light, he pulls a tender smile and for the first time, it doesn't look so dumb.

Silence was both your companion for the next hour that followed. Not like the awkward emptiness, or the sudden quietness that sweeps over after a hearty conversation, it was most definitely not the comfortable calm Jungkook was seeking. It felt like a silent film–soundless but so full of momentum, the kind where a slight of a movement is enough to break things aloud. Jungkook could attest to it. He doesn’t know what the hell transpired in the café, how he suddenly gained his friend, Seokjin’s, cringey confidence to attempt to woo you with cheesy lines, but if he’s going to be honest, the ballads ringing atop the lungs of the birds in his chest is not solely caused by his courting shenanigans. The hint of pinkness on the apples of your cheeks, the sweet, fond smile you sent his way, and that goddamn soft “I love you” were all it took to set everything in him ablaze. The night blooms further, the skyline turns obsidian, and he can’t still feel his heart.

The boy takes a peek at you and the same old doubts replay in his head–what are you thinking? Do you like him planning not-so-dates like this? Do you feel a little bit better when he do stuffs like this? It may have been Jimin’s idea to get him out of his comfort zone but it wasn’t the sole reason that moved him to man up and try his hand again in trying to make you feel what you make him feel.

Jungkook isn’t blind. The half-smile you flashed at him first thing in the morning was already a sign. You’ve been…acting different for the past few days. Your eyes don’t hold the same spark they usually do when you smile, your lips won’t easily curve upward like they instantly do when you see him, and you even skipped your three-hour break you usually use for nap times with him for working again on the storyboard he knows you’ve already prepared since last week. The worst of it, you felt so far from him when you’ve always been so near and just within his reach. You haven’t sent him anything–no “hey, Jungkook, what do you think of this prose?”, no “StarKook! I’ve been running out of ideas go send me oooneee,” not even the usual “Jungkook? I’m feeling sad. Come over?” you usually send him just to let him stay at your dorm and hear you rant out about another bitch in class or a declined manuscript. No text, no chat–just plain nothing. It’s not just because of the pain in your back; there’s obviously something more and Jungkook can’t think of any other way to make you feel better than going out of his way to make you feel loved. He didn’t just get two tickets to the local band you’ve been gushing over last month; he practically spent a night fighting for them on an online sold out. He didn’t come up of going to some random heart-decor-filled place to walk around; he remembered you telling him a year ago about this town plaza that goes the extra mile on whatever event or holiday. All of them are just small details but the thing is, you always communicate with him in these minute details that over the years of reading between the lines you text him and hearing the underlying shifts of tone of your voice, Jungkook already knows the truth behind the things you say before you can even utter them out. He has always known you and if this is what he has to do to re-discover you again, Jungkook would willingly do everything.

Jungkook looks at you again and this time your gaze connects to his.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. Just you and your sappy face.”

“As if you don’t have a dumb face,” you mumbled but Jungkook still hears them and he laughs. It didn’t take a second for you to follow, and by then the tinkling of your laughter has already surrounded the two of you in a calming haze as you head to the green field.

The concert ground looked like velvet gardens of green as the pastel-colored lights overhead drape the sea of people in soft hues of spring. Jungkook doesn’t remember much of the names of the people who sparked conversations with you as you both sat on the picnic blanket he laid out or the names the acoustic band list off to which they dedicate their songs to. But every bit of the song–the melody, the beat, and the lyrics stay embedded in his mind that he’s certainly write in his little black notebook as soon as he went back to the dorm. It was almost like a therapy; the soft strumming of guitars, the warm, soulful voices of the singers, the wonderful keys of the piano, and the unexpected upbeat interludes almost sent everyone into a different world as all sorts of feelings evaded everyone’s senses. People sang along, some moved their heads, a few couples slow danced on the grass and Jungkook can also see the effect on you. The straight face you wore when you first came in melted into a peaceful one and it was enough to tell everything; your contented smile and mirthful eyes that he’ll sure draw in the very same black notebook where he keeps all the poems and prose you have sent to him. You didn’t get to sing along with everyone but he knows you enjoyed every bit of the concert because even when the bands are gone and so is everyone else, it looks like you can’t find it in yourself to get up and leave just yet. So Jungkook just stays and waits, relishing every minute he could get with you by his side before tomorrow comes and Friday classes sets you apart from him again.

It was only a matter of minutes though before he finally gets his answers.

“Have you ever felt like…being stuck in one place and never moving at all?”

Jungkook looks at you and licks his lips before answering, “Hmm…I do but…It’s been a while though.”

“For me it is too. But it hit me full force just recently,” you pause and then you looked at him. “And it fucking sucks. It feels so terrible.”

“What is?”

“Not being able to write anything,” you put your hand before you and clenched it before spreading it out again. “My hand yearns to type again, something–a word, a phrase, whatever, and it just…can’t. I can’t. I thought having my manuscripts continuously declined again and again, again and again, is the worst I could get until this feeling of idleness starts to consume you. Fuck, it isn’t even a feeling at all–just a thought but it’s been killing other thoughts that it’s the only thing you could think of just like what feelings do. Jungkook,” you turn to him and it was only then that Jungkook sees the unshed tears brimming in your eyes, “I fe-feel like I’m not improving at all-just stuck and useless in this limbo and everyone has their eyes on me constantly supporting me and my stuff or lying in wait when I will finally fall and I just…feel so pressured too but what’s unsettling is that I, myself, is even disappointed at what I’ve become. What’s the purpose of being a writer if I can’t write?”

And everything hits Jungkook. A sliver of youth-filled days, blown dandelions, and naivety and immaturity running through his veins – the memory of the fourteen-year old you and the seventeen-year old him who were talking about much mature questions of your indefinite future, too heavy for your premature minds.

“What do you want to do in your life, Jungkook?”

“I don’t know...I’m not good in anything yet,” Jungkook murmured and he hunched his shoulders when you nudged him another dandelion for him to hold but he accepts it anyway. “What about you?”

“I’m going to be a writer! A very good one,” you beamed, giggling, your eyes resembling half moons.

Jungkook just stared at you. He’s never seen eyes so bright like yours before. When you looked at him with your forehead furrowed, he broke from his stupor and mumbled, “T-that’s great. I-I’m kinda embarrassed I still don’t know what I’m good at. I-I’m already seventeen and I have to repeat three years in school because I’m dumb and can’t get anything right–”

“Hey!” you cut him off and the frown that suddenly settled on your face made him nervous. “You’re not dumb!”

“B-but I am. I mean look, the kids of my age are already seniors and I’m still here in junior high and they probably have their lives planned ahead before them and here I am, still figuring things out and fucking things up. Even you have already your dreams! Whi-while I’m here…just unmoving and not growing.”

“You know, you can’t compare one’s growth with another.” You stood up and patted the fallen buds of the countless dandelions you’ve blown in your garden. Your mother would probably kill you but you couldn’t care less. You grabbed the pot of a marigold in the plant box on the right of your front door and bring it by your side as you sat beside your friend once again. “One’s growth is different to another, look," you point at the seemingly burning oranges and reds of the marigold. "A marigold only takes fourteen days for its sprout to grow from the seed and around two months before its flower starts to bloom, however," you point at the yellow dandelion planted before you, the only one standing tall with its flowers long before it becomes a seed head, "a dandelion takes two months just to grow the sprout yet in one month's time it can already start to flower." You look at him this time, "See? They grow at different times but look, they're both gonna reach their peak and they would all be beautiful!" You let your lips grow into a smile, "You know, you'll find your dream soon. Just do things at your own pace and try everything you might take interest in, you'll be able to find it in no time."

Laughing at his blank look, you just tapped him and said "Let's just blow the dandelions away and hope for the best, hmm?"

"Yeah." And you blew away the petals hoping it carries your dreams and hopes somewhere in the following years.

It happened to him before, and God knows how he has to die inside night by night wondering about some indefinite uncertainty in his life. You have helped him find his way before and now, Jungkook thinks it’s time to return the favor.

Jungkook inches his way closer to you and lays flat on the mat. You look at him questioning but he only chuckles and coaxes you to lie down too. Jungkook stretches his right arm open and that’s when you finally lay next to him with his arm cushioning your head. Up above you, countless of stars have already emerged on the indigo skyline. Jungkook raises his hand and points out a constellation. “Oh look, it’s Maui’s hook!”

“It’s Scorpio, Kook, and it’s not even up there, it’s fucking February. You’re actually pointing at Lepus.”

“Lepus, what’s that?” he turns to you.

You face him unfazed. “A rabbit.”

“How did you know that?”

“I studied constellations last year because of a celestial character I have to write.”

“Oh right, the star prince.”

“Yeah.”

“It still looks like Maui’s hook to me.”

“Kook, it doesn’t even look like a hook! Ugh! Did you actually just ask me to lay my head on the grass to point at some random constellation?”

“...but you’re actually laying on my arm.”

Reds start to color your cheeks again and Jungkook bites off a giggle. “S-same context though, Jeon.”

Jungkook chuckles and brushes your fringe away from your face. “You see, the constellations up there have different times they become visible to man. Gemini–I’m not gonna point it ‘cause i don’t know where it is–is up there. I know it is visible in Feb because Hobi hyung’s birthday is around the corner and he’s been into everyone’s Zodiac signs ever since I met him. Anyway, Leo comes later in five months, but it still reaches its peak up there.” Jungkook smiles, “See? They come at different times but they will still reach their peak!”

Jungkook could see recognition settle in as your eyes widen and your mouth parts. And it’s honestly so beautiful he can’t take his eyes away from you.

“Oh my god, Kook, I can’t believe you just quoted me.”

“See? Even the fourteen-year-old you already knew the answer.”

“We can’t compare growths.”

“Because everyone is growing at their own pace,” Jungkook finishes.

“Don’t you think that it’s kinda ironic that I’m the one who advised you that and here I am getting the same exact advice this time?”

“No. It really happens. It’s part of growing. Past events seem like they catch up at you but it’s just destined to make you remember something” Jungkook winks and you pretend to barf but your bestfriend immediately brings you back to his arms before you can even attempt to stand up. You fall back on his chest and when his laughter rings out in the open air, you can’t help but also let out the chuckles bubbling in your throat.

The last minutes of Valentines were then spent in counting off numerous comparisons–how Russia is ahead of one day than America yet it doesn’t mean that America is far behind the latter, how an entrepreneur becomes a CEO in his twenties while a retiree just gets to experience financial peak in his seventies, how characters in a book develop in their own pace–one not much more meaningful than the other–and so many more. But apart from it all, Jungkook only thinks of one:

You may not yet love yourself at the time everyone has already mastered every art of self-love, but you will eventually get there. And he will be with you in every step, pouring his love in many ways he could think of in hopes to help you love yourself more. It will take time, but you would surely get there.

When you look back up at the night sky, Jungkook lets his stare remain on your face. He doesn’t need to look up anymore when a bright one is already laying next to him.

In the open velvet grounds of green, Jungkook whispers “I love you too” and smiles.

When you open your locker the next day, there lay the familiar pink envelope with a golden crown that never fails to make your heart flutter. However, it’s not alone. A small plastic orange pot just the size of your palm sits next to it. One day late, and quite weird how this secret admirer of yours knows the combination of your lock to put something much larger than a letter inside but you couldn’t find it in you to be bothered when you’ve always known this Little Prince have always meant good. You know it is so because if you have to admit, his good-natured letters over the year are succeeding in earning your trust, and yeah, maybe your heart too.

“Dear princess,

Happy Valentines! I’m sorry I’m one day late. I hoped you spent yesterday feeling loved by the people around you. Also, don’t get creeped out. I happened to pass by you and see your combination but promise! I will not use it to take anything away from you. I just want to surprise you with a gift. I learned that flowers communicate meanings as well and I guessed that this plant, when it blooms, will tell you the entirety of my feelings.

Until then, I hope you take patience for this plant to bloom as I hope you would also take time to not give up on your own growth.

Lots of love from a faraway land,

The Little Prince.”

A/N: Hi hons! Happy Valentines! I’ve been inactive lately so here’s some 5k diabetes-inducing fluff for you! Sooo we got to know some new stuff for our characters here! 1) Jungkook is definitely older than the OC and 2) He repeated three years in HS. All of this is essential for the future parts until we get to The Confession™

Also, surprise, anon! I included your request in this :)

I appreciate all feedback so please don’t be shy! I would love talking with you guys! Take care and once more, Happy Valentines!

507 notes · View notes

ninaahelvar · 5 years ago

Text

The Stakeout (4/5)

Summary: In order to get all the information they can, the detective duo, Bakugou and Uraraka, must go on a stakeout. But close proximity may force some underlying feelings to come to the surface. Also known as “Bakugou had a really bad date and it gives him perspective”

AO3

A/N: please thank @doesitsaysassonmyuniform for all her hard work on this chapter. it wouldn’t be out without her. all the funny stuff was her. i will not take credit for her genius.

There was a heavy buzzing under his head, like a hive of angry bees had infested his pillow. He groaned, rolling over as his head throbbed. He’d drunk way too much last night.

Buzz buzz

Was it his alarm? What time was it anyway? It couldn’t have been that late in the day, not with how his room was barely lit when he’d managed to pry open his eyes. It was a small blessing - if he’d been late for work on top of everything else, he might just kill someone.

Buzz buzz

He didn’t hear his alarm, so it must be his phone. He had vague recollections of the night before, passing out on his bed before he could even get undressed. Had he put his phone on silent?

With another groan, he wrenched his head up out of the cradle of his arms, and fumbled for his phone. He squinted in the morning light - it was low, but not enough to avoid hurting his eyes - and finally flipped his blankets in frustration. It flew out onto the floor with a thud and he stretched out to get it, his stomach rising into his throat as he moved.

Extremely hungover - noted.

By the time he picked up his phone, it had finally stopped buzzing, leaving a faint ringing in his ears at the sudden silence. Bakugou frowned as he turned on the screen, the blur of notifications clearing as his eyes focused.

Shitty Hair (9 Missed Calls)

Shitty Hair: Holy shit I can’t believe u did it!

Shitty Hair: (10 Messages)

Did what? Why was that fucking bastard calling him at - he checked the top of his phone - six in the morning anyway? He unlocked his phone and opened his texting app, and was met with a wall of grey message bubbles.

Shitty Hair: Uraraka just txted me!!

(missed call)

Shitty Hair: Seriously dude pick up

(missed call)

Shitty Hair: if ur fkn asleep rn I stg

(missed call)

Shitty Hair: I can’t believe u did it!

(missed call)

Shitty Hair: It better not be a joke or ill kill u

(missed call)

Shitty Hair: ok I don’t care if ur asleep ill make u answer

(missed call)

Shitty Hair: Dude she’s super freaked rn cause u wont respond

(missed call)

Shitty Hair: look im porud u finally did it but u cant send that and then go silent

(missed call)

Shitty Hair: *proud

Shitty Hair: HOLY SHIT I CANT BELIEVE U DID IT!

Bakugou was starting to have a bad feeling, one entirely outside of his hangover. It felt like something was squeezing his chest, and it was getting tighter and tighter the more he read. He looked at the icon, and winced at the little number telling him he had more unread messages.

From Uraraka.

Shit.

He clicked on the thread, and scrolled all the way up to his last message.

@ 1:37am

You: heyyyy want som fuk??

You: shit no i mean

You: ur hot

You: it pisses me off

You: we should fuck tho

You: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

No. No no no no no no. No! Fuck! No! The universe was fucking playing with him, right? This couldn’t be real. Fuck! It was, it was staring him in the fucking face! FUCK! He was going to explode his entire apartment.

Round Face: ...what?

Round Face: Bakugou wtf?

Round Face: Do you mean that??

Round Face: How drunk are you rn??

Round Face (2 missed calls)

Round Face: I’m gonna murder you

In the midst of Bakugou’s midlife - soon to be end of life - crisis, his phone started to ring, Kirishima’s face beaming as his name appeared. Bakugou immediately answered, pressing his phone to his ear as he hung his head between his legs.

“What did you do?” he asked, and Bakugou did the only thing he could think of.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“You fucking idiot,” Kirishima laughed and Bakugou threw himself backwards on his bed, hand pressed to his forehead.

“I WAS DRUNK! I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER!”

“Well lucky for you phones don’t exist and neither does she - oh wait.” Bakugou could hear that smug voice of his radiating through the fucking phone and he wanted to burn it in his hand.

“NOOOOOOOOO!” Bakugou whined, feeling completely beside himself - unaware of how ridiculous he was sounding. He was just having the worst day of his life, and it was showing.

“Hey, at least it’s out there now, right? She didn’t say no.”

“I wanna die. I’m jumping out the window.”

“You are the biggest drama queen I know,” Kirishima laughed, and Bakugou put his head between his legs, a sickening feeling rising in his throat and the overwhelming urge to projectile vomit across his apartment was becoming an almost welcoming idea.

“I will kill you later,” Bakugou groaned, shaking his hand through his hair, over and over again until he felt like he was at ease. He didn’t stop for a while.

“Oh, so you’re actually coming into work?” Kirishima sounded surprised, and it dawned on Bakugou...this day was going to be his last - he was deciding it before it was even over, his last day alive would be that day.

“I don’t fucking know, give me an hour to die first,” Bakugou said, knowing this would be the first time that he was late - and having no other excuse than being a fucking drunken moron.

Bakugou stumbled into work, his clothes a mess, hair barely done, and collar sticking up to hide his face. With every step, it felt like eyes were on him, watching his every move, and it made every hair on his body stand on end - he needed to fight something soon otherwise he’d go stir crazy.

Before interacting with anyone else, a bounding bubble of joy crashed alongside him, knocking him off balance. Bakugou stared back at his partner who smiled like a child - and his heart was racing like an idiot.

Her expression fell, clicking her tongue as she took him in. Why the fuck was he feeling so hot? He felt like he was a rising thermometer, about to burst at the fuckng end. He was a walking infomercial, some fucked up idiot that can’t keep it down.

“Wow you look wrecked. Sleep well, Blasty?” she asked, a slight pout as she stepped closer to him.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“Not as wrecked as your face.” The two of them frowned at the words. Why did he speak at all? “Anyway, Case!”

FUCKKKKKKKK STOP TALKING!

If a villain could come in through the window and suplex him out of existence right now, he’d be grateful. So. Fucking. Grateful.

Now, Bakugou wasn’t a religious man. He didn’t believe in a higher power. That felt like a mistake - because God was punishing him for his abject atheism. This was a goddamn joke, and God was clearly laughing.

If he got down on his knees and started praying, would it stop?

Uraraka quirked an eyebrow at him, before answering. “Yeah, we had a new lead come in this morning and most teams are on it, you missed Aizawa’s speech.”

Fuck. Aizawa knew he was late.

Praying wouldn’t save him now.

Uraraka guided them both to their desks, rattling on about the case - something about a guy getting into some dark shit with trafficking young kids. In the end, Bakugou found concentrating hard. He would normally listen and make sure to take notes when it came to figuring out who the guy was - but he just couldn’t stop watching her. He watched and wondered why the hell she wasn’t saying anything. Uraraka replied to the messages, she even called - and now it was radio silence.

Normally, Bakugou would yell about it - but it felt wrong to bring it up, it could embarrass them both, and although he didn’t embarrass easy, this was completely new for him. Embarrassment came easier with all that romantic shit. It was stupid and frustrating and Bakugou hated the fact that he fell for it all, after years of denying himself.

Bakugou wasn’t built for this shit, and it definitely showed.

As Uraraka went to talk to eye witnesses - a task that Bakugou was strictly not allowed to do anymore - he went to the kitchen, making himself a coffee and praying it woke him up enough to stop the nagging sensation in his heart and the throbbing in his head.

A whisper then came into his ear.

“Hey, want some fuck with that coffee?”

Bakugou spat out his coffee and it sprayed across the kitchen bench. Kirishima laughed behind him, moving away to grab a donut - the fucking prick. Bakugou was meant to be safe here, away from her and this fucker had to come and ruin it.

Bakugou coughed, thumping his chest before turning to glare at the other man. “Could you keep your fucking voice down, Shitty Hair?”

“I don’t know - can you look Uraraka in the eye?” Kirishima quirked his eyebrow and Bakugou stepped towards the pointy haired bastard.

“Want me to rip yours out?”

“Tetchy tetchy. Don’t lash out at me cause you’re not getting any.” Kirishima stuffed the donut into his grinning teeth, and Bakugou tried to burn holes into the fucker’s skull.

“Murder. Expect murder.”

Kirishima only laughed, waving at Bakugou as he went back to his desk. In the back of his mind, Bakugou could only think the asshole was talking about him - gossiping about Bakugou’s idiotic love life and how ridiculous this all was.

Bakugou wanted to fucking die.

The window looked so inviting, calling to him like a siren’s song.

As he sat in the kitchen, looking over notes on the case he hadn’t paid attention to, a loud blaring noise came over the speakers of the precinct. It was unusual for an alarm to go off - on rare occasions when fire alarm detected smoke (which may have been Bakugou - no on proved it was) or emergencies. With the chaos that was soon surrounding him, Bakugou guessed the latter.

“What the fuck is going on?” Bakugou asked as Kirishima ran back towards the equipment room.

“Genzo’s been spotted. We’ve gotta go,” he panted as he ran. He didn’t even stop.

Aizawa burst from his office, his scarf that was rarely off was primed at the ready. “He’s on the move! Everyone get going!” he demanded, stopping short of the door to look back at Bakugou, glaring. “That includes you, Bakugou!” he snapped, and Bakugou sighed, throwing aside his paperwork to head into the equipment room.

Kirishima handed him all his guards and gauntlets, the two rushing out as Uraraka was fixing her earpieces in, rolling her shoulders to prep herself. Bakugou smirked, watching as she worked her magic as she got ready for a fight. Regardless of how much of an ass he made of himself, he still couldn’t get over Uraraka being a goddamn badass at her job.

They got to the site of Genzo’s attack. He had completely wrecked a transport vehicle, exploded it like an atomic bomb and was causing a fucking disaster zone by the sheer amount of electric power around him.

“Any casualties?” Bakugou asked, tightening his gauntlets and making sure they were ready to go when he needed them.

“Two police officers that we know of,” Aizawa said, going over the short notes he was given by officers on the scene.

“Any officers we know?” Uraraka asked, her voice a little strained as she asked. Bakugou looked over to her.

“None,” Aizawa replied. Bakugou watched as Uraraka sighed. Deku. He knew who she was thinking of, and it made a spot in between his shoulder blades ache. He bound his fists and kept his attention on the chaos. This guy was burning every fuse within his view, drawing all of it to him and sending it back at people.

“Our main priority is to protect civilians, and keep him away from the generators. He probably saw he was close to the power plant - we have to keep him away and out of reach of that power. We have no idea what he’ll do with it.”

And with that, the teams were divided - one person on civilians, the other on containment. Both Uraraka and Bakugou knew their place without even a glance. Bakugou set off an explosion as Uraraka moved a group of worried people out of the way. She was great, when another eruption came through, she’s catch them in time and float them to safety - barely even registering that she’d activated her quirk.

When Bakugou set off an explosion that ripped up the entire road - something he knew he’d get in deep shit over later - he watched as the other agents got into position, preparing for their next move and knowing the reach of Bakugou’s quirk. The ground ripped up and threw Genzo around, knocking him against a building and an audible yell of pain rumbled through the area. It gave them time to evacuate. It’s all they needed right now.

Uraraka went to Bakugou’s side, panting a little as she pointed. “Group, ten o’clock. You got this?” she asking, pointing to the group of huddled people just across from Genzo. Bakugou scoffed at Uraraka’s words.

“Tch, who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Yeah, yeah, just wait for my signal,” she laughed, moving off, touching pieces of rubble that were easy to float. Bakugou smirked, watching as they floated skyward and eventually just guiding her hands on all the rubble she passed with her quirk activated. It wasn’t long before Uraraka found the stuck bystanders and pointed them to a safe route out of the danger zone. But Genzo was quicker than either of them had anticipated, rising from his injured state, rolling his shoulders with a tight grimace on his face.

Genzo roared, sapping the power from a nearby building, the electricity crackling over his skin and bared for a quick release. He wanted to inflict damage and make it count - Bakugou could see it in his eyes. Genzo looked for anything that was moving. The civilians. Uraraka saw it too, and she did something stupid.

She knew it too.

“Get back!” Uraraka called to the civilians, and Bakugou watched in horror as Genzo reacted first - her voice drawing too much attention. Her warning, was an attraction. The fucker moved quick - faster than any of them could have expected, and Bakugou redirected his explosions, trying to counter as best he could to the new position. He set off an explosion behind him, sending him to their location as fast as he could.

He wasn’t gonna make it.

“Uraraka, move!”

She turned her head, eyes widening and arms coming out to block far too late as the energy surge hit her full force. Uraraka was knocked so far back, she’s skidding across pavement like it’s slick. When she stops, she’s flinching, over and over again - her body reacting to the electric current running over her body.

He saw her hands come together, letting the meteor shower rain down, catching Genzo off guard and trying to evade the oncoming onslaught. He wasn’t expecting Bakugou though.

He was only a split second behind.

“DIE YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

Bakugou came bounding in, hands directed at the target and firing off two of the most explosive blasts he had ever mustered. It knocked Genzo to the ground, and Bakugou landed over him, his fits binding tight as he repeatedly punched - throwing him about as the bastard laughed. Once Bakugou finally cracked one of Genzo’s teeth, his face a bloody mess of what it once was - Bakugou regained his sense and tossed Genzo off to the side.

In the aftermath, there was silence - waiting for the next thing to fall or the next blast to knock over a bunch of people. But it was just simply silence. In the ash and smoke, Bakugou waded through it, leaving Genzo to whatever fate he had left him in, finding his partner curled up and in pain.

Bakugou dropped to her side, hands fluttering around her useless as he took her in. This was bad. This was fucking bad. Her clothes were a disaster, the giant hole in her vest giving way to blistered and blackened skin. Some of it had fused to the fabric, and it made bile rise up in his throat just to see it. He didn’t even know if he could touch her but one look at her glassy eyes made it impossible not to move.

The ozone in the air made his skin stand on end - and that was the only reason - as he pulled her into his lap as gently as he could. “Hey Round face,” he lightly tapped her cheeks and she turned to look at him. Her brown eyes were so unfocused. “Stay with me, fucker.”

Her face was so pale and her mouth moved wordlessly for a moment before she was able to speak. “You called me Uraraka.”

His throat was tight. “Yeah well you’d kill me if I called you Round face in public, Round face.”

Her lips quirked ever so slightly, eyes looking somewhere over his shoulder. “You just did…ugly.”

“Yeah I guess I did.”

Kirishima landed heavily at their side, and his breath hitched when he saw her chest. “Dude..”

“Genzo?”

Kirishima shook himself. “Right. He’s out - you did a number on him. The police have got it covered. EMT’s should be here any second.”

Bakugou brushed some hair out of her face - it was just getting all tangled and sweaty anyway. She didn’t even notice. “You with me Round Face?”

“Yeah - but- but my chest feels -” She tried to get up and he had to force her back down.

“Fuck don’t move okay - you’re gonna be fine.” He scanned the street, and couldn’t push down the relief as the familiar jackets of the EMT’s came into view. “Hey! We need some help over here!”

People ran over, moving Bakugou against his will. But in the end, when he watched Uraraka flinch in pain, he knew he wasn’t needed anymore. Regardless of how desperately he wanted to stay. They were fragile with her, placing her gently into the stretcher, and finally into the ambulance. Driving away, Bakugou felt his heart lurch.

Nakamura Genzo was captured easily, given more restraints and heavier security around him. They treated him for his injuries - third degree burns, his entire right side was a mess of broken ribs and bruises, and the left was a little less severe. Bakugou needed to work on his left hook apparently. Genzo had a punctured lung from one of his ribs, and his front teeth were busted, but it didn’t matter to Bakugou. He was taken in - he was completely taken care of. Bakugou just cared about one thing.

~*~*~

Hospitals were always a place of pain - mostly for Bakugou on certain missions, yet now it was different. The fluorescent lights were straining his eyes as he walked through the halls - the constant wailing and crying was enough to keep him away too. Yet, she was there. His partner was laid up in a hospital bed in whatever fucking condition Genzo left her in. Bakugou was told the room number and he walked to it with bound fists at his side.

Flowers were already placed in her room, cards lining the benches with well wishes. Uraraka was already propped up - though there had been a day between her injuries and his visit. The rest of the team had already gone to see her. Bakugou was questioned a fuck tonne in order to explain Genzo’s injuries. He didn’t have much else to say other than “what would you rather me do? Beat him within an inch of his life, or let him kill everyone in the area?”

After that, he was allowed home, where he stared at his phone waiting for an update.

Kirishima texted late saying Uraraka was asking after him.

Bakugou knew he had to go see her after that.

He hung back by the door as Uraraka stopped playing with her phone, smiling down to whoever was contacting her. She looked up and her smile dropped, like seeing him was more of a shock than a surprise. Bakugou’s jaw set tight and his heart felt like it was trapped in between two ribs - unable to beat without causing him pain.

“Bakugou, hey, I was wondering when you’d -”

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, his chest a mess of emotions he would never allow himself to process.

Uraraka sighed, scratching lightly at her brow. “I know I was a little -”

“You were reckless and put yourself in danger for that shitty mission,” he snarled, moving to the foot of her bed. Her once soft expression turned to that of defiance, her brow crinkling in frustration.

“Hey! I’m not as fragile as you -”

“I don’t think you’re fragile, moron! You were putting your life in danger for nothing,” he said, hands gripped tight to the edge of her bed.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she spat back, folding her arms over her chest.

“What?” His brow knit, watching as she stared back at him, anger etched into her features.

“You’re being an asshole, saying you think I can take it, but then say I can’t because I’m weak. I can fucking take it!”

“I know you can fucking take it, but I can’t! Not like this!” The rage let slip the words that were held back - anger and frustration finally touching at the parts of himself he wanted to hide away. His hands bound together, tight fists by his side as his jaw set. If he couldn’t unbind his teeth, he wouldn’t need to answer her obvious question.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

There it was.

“Don’t do it again, idiot,” he replied, voice breaking and pushing himself off the bed, moving out of the hospital room and going home. He had the day off anyway.

It was just mistake after mistake.

Words said.

Actions not taken.

Secrets let slip.

Everything was a goddamn mistake.

With his head in his hands, Bakugou could feel regret gripping him, like a force that bound him to the feelings that made him scared of himself. She made him scared. No one could make him fear the unknown - pain, injuries, death - it was all he ever craved. But she went down, and everything came flooding over him, like a fucking tidalwave, saturating his being until he was as desperate as any other fucker on the planet.

It wasn’t Bakugou.

And it all made him scared. Of Uraraka. For Uraraka.

What did it all mean when everything else was a fucking mess? He hated that he couldn’t piece himself together, unravelling like a perfectly tied up coil coming apart by one tight pull.

Word went around that Uraraka was released from the hospital after two days, and given a week’s bed rest. She deserved more for all the work she did, but Bakugou knew she’d bounce back sooner or later.

Bakugou was midway through writing a report for Aizawa when a booming voice called out through the precinct. “Hey! Asshole!” The whole room turned, seeing Kirishima storming through. He wasn’t the type of dude that got pissed off easily, so it was a surprise. Then, he pointed directly at Bakugou. “Yeah you!”

“The fuck did you just call me?” Bakugou said, standing and standing face to face with the bastard.

“You haven’t gone to see Uraraka, I get to call you what I like!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, stepping back from Kirishima and going back to his desk. “I don’t have to do shit all,” he replied, only for Kirishima to haul him back, fists in each other’s clothes - the two like gasoline and fire, ready to erupt at any moment.

“She’s fucking expecting you, so go!” Kirishima replied, his features hardening, expecting the fight.

“Who are you to demand -”

“I’m your best friend, so listen to me and go see Uraraka. Tonight!” he yelled. The precinct was silent, and Bakugou suddenly felt seen - that there was something telling everyone about he and Uraraka other than being partners. He didn’t want to be seen. Bakugou shoved Kirishima back, straightening out his clothes as he looked back at the spikey haired bastard.

“Fine! Fuck,” he swore, murmuring curses under his breath as he went back to his work, holding back on his anger.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t care about Uraraka. She’d had injuries worse than this. Fuck, Bakugou had stayed at her house while she had a broken leg and a few broken ribs before - cooking, cleaning, doing her laundry. This was different. She didn’t seem to need him like before.

Maybe he was just…

Scared wasn’t the right word.

He wasn’t ready.

After everything that had happened, he wasn’t ready for her to see him and maybe understand what he said.

But he did have to see her. Check in.

It was only right.

~*~*~

It was weird, holding a bag of things for her as he stood outside her door. It was a crumbly old apartment building with like no space other than the essentials. With most of Uraraka’s money going to her parents, Bakugou understood why she stayed there, but for once he’d wish she’d think about herself.

Huffing, he knocked on the door. It was harder than he anticipated, but it didn’t matter. With barely a second to straighten out his shoulders when Uraraka opened the door. He felt a lump in the back of his throat when he saw her. It had been four days since she left the hospital, and four days since they’d seen each other. She had a few tiny cuts and bruises on her arms and on her cheek, but other than that - she was just Uraraka.

She was in grey tracksuit pants and an oversized hoodie she’s gotten at their time with the agency. It was far too big, slipping off her shoulder as she took Bakugou in.

“Bakugou,” she said, voice a little shaken. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He gave a vague shrug. “Kirishima.”

“Oh, okay.” Uraraka cleared her throat before she opened the door a little wider. “Come in,” she said, gesturing for him to enter. He followed and went inside, handing her the bag as she walked past him.

“Here,” he grumbled, focusing his attention to the floor. She peered inside the bag before gasping.

“Mochi donuts?! Thank you,” she smiled, tucking hair behind her ear.

“It’s better than the nothing I was going to get you,” he replied.

“But Kirishima talked you into it?” Bakugou returned a vague ‘tch’ sound before he stood back in her hallway and Uraraka was wandering into her kitchen.

“How’s the burn?” he asked, clearing his throat as his arms folded over his chest. He wasn’t sure what the fuck to do with himself. He felt cornered, that the walls might swallow him and he may never be allowed to leave - in a constant state of waiting for her to ask about the texts and what happened at the hospital.

“It’s fine. I barely feel it. Recovery girl really helped the process along so I’m ready to get back to work.” There was a voice she put on - a raise in her chin as she acted tough. A show for him to not think any less of her. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“Good. That’s good,” he said, clearing his throat again and pushing off from the wall. “I only came ‘cause shitty hair made me. I’m gonna leave,” he said, going towards the door, ready to open it.

“What did you mean in the hospital?” she asked, voice quiet compared to earlier. She was scared. His hand was at the handle, inches from turning the knob, but he turned, looking back at Uraraka as she fiddled with the ends of her hoodie.

“What?”

She raised her chin, fingers still at the ends of her sleeves, nervously pulling at them. “I’m not repeating myself.”

He huffed. “I didn’t mean -”

“I’m tired of your shit Bakugou!” She yelled, and he stared across at her in shock. When he didn’t reply, she continued. Uraraka almost charged him as she spoke, getting right into his space and not backing away for a second. “If you lie to me, I swear to god, I’m going to fling you out the window, now tell me!”

She stared at him, a rage that only Bakugou could bring out of her. And in the midst of it, the scared teenager that couldn’t get over a crush was hammering away and begging for his chance. In the end, the man won out, and acted in the only way he knew how to.

Bakugou wasn’t a guy of many words.

So he didn’t use them.

He surged forward.

He didn’t dare to touch her, only kissing her as swiftly as body could allow, towering over her and making her stagger backwards. She gripped into his shoulders, responding with the most beautiful lips he had ever tasted. Then, she pulled back, staring back - no anger, just confusion, written into her features.

“W-what? Does this -”

“Stop fucking talking, round face,” he growled back, forehead resting against hers. He tried to dive right back in, only managing to steal a small kiss before she pulled away. Bakugou froze, watching as a smile grew on her lips right before she stole another. He smirked, knowing the game she was playing.

She tempted and teased, pulling back the moment Bakugou was about to latch his lips to hers, to never part them for as long as his lust would hold out. Whatever she she was doing, she knew the exact way to have Bakugou fall for it - she was going to have Bakugou everyway she wanted him, and he fucking knew it. All the while, it wound him up, like he was a jack-in-the-box, and god, was he ready to spring out and surprise her.

In one swift guide of his arm, he pulled her in by her waist, snaring her lips with his own and kissing her as sharply as he needed. He wanted her, and he wanted her the moment he stepped foot into her apartment. Pressing her up against the wall, she let out a soft gasp against his mouth, but he wanted to surprise her - do everything that every ounce of lust within him wanted to do. Her sweats were still midway down her thigh but they weren’t off, which gave Bakugou every excuse. Turning Uraraka around, her hands pressed against the wall - he bent and took down the remaining parts of her pants, bending down and watching the way her body swayed with each move he made.

Bakugou couldn’t help himself, hand squeezing into her ass, the bounce and shake of it making everything in him rise - adrenaline and lust surging across him. He teeth scraped across one cheek before he bit into it a little harder. Uraraka mewled, hands clawing at the wall - hard enough for Bakugou to hear - and as Bakugou kissed at the spot he not-so-delicately bit into, her hands released, reaching behind her to gently stroke at his hair. She looked over her shoulder as Bakugou took her underwear down swiftly, he wasn’t going to waste any more fucking time.

Gripping in once more, he pushed his face in the crevasse of her cheeks, tongue stroking at her tender lips and immediately making Uraraka rise on her toes. She fell back down, pushing her hips into his face, and holy fuck did he enjoy it. Bakugou held onto her thighs, widening her stance as he lapped up all that she was feeling. Uraraka whined, panting as he kept his mouth on her entrance, delivering his tongue in just to hear her moaning gasps.

“Oh, Bak -” she whined, and his hand snaked from her thigh to taking his tongue’s place, fingers circling her folds before entering her slowly. He slowly rose to his feet, her hand slipping from his hair back to the wall, and he kissed up the back of her neck to have her shiver against him. “Baku -”

“Katsuki,” he whispered in her ear.

“Fuck, Katsuki!” she said, pushing her hips against his hand, forcing it directly into his hips. She may not have known she was doing so, but she rocked perfectly onto his crotch, his cock aching inside his jeans. “Right there, right there! Right there!” she cried, her voice soft and desperate. She spurred him on, fingers working overtime just to hear what it would sound like when she finally came.

Her hips pushed back hard against him, her panting becoming a little harder to control and Bakugou could feel her around his fingers - Uraraka was at the end of her tether. She reached behind herself once more, hand on his wrist as she breathed in heavy gasps. He didn’t know if she was trying to stop him, or was telling him to keep going - either way, she crashed against the wall, crying out a little moan and pushing her ass straight up against his hips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, feeling the strain in his pants. “I’m not going to last if you keep pushing your ass into me,” he said into her ear. Uraraka looked over her shoulder, brushing hair from her face.

“I didn’t say you had to,” she said. Tempt and tease.

“Fuck,” he groaned, tugging on her arm to turn around, “you asked for it,” he warned her before bending down and picking her up into his arms.

Uraraka held onto his face, kissing him as he staggered around her cramped apartment. He fell into walls, struggled past the doorway, and had them falling into the bed. Uraraka giggled, kissing Bakugou before he rolled his hips against her, making her moan a little more. He just needed one more thing before he parted from her. He stood up from the bed, stripping himself of his shirt and kicking off his shoes. Uraraka took the cue and shrugged out of her hoodie and shirt, leaving her only in her bra. As Bakugou snapped off his belt and pushed his pants down, Uraraka unclasped her bra and tossed it aside.

Remembering where he’d seen them the last time - an awkward conversation was had when Bakugou was putting away laundry - he went to Uraraka’s dresser drawer, finding the condoms and tearing at the edge of one. He started to place it on when he saw Uraraka adjust herself slightly. Sitting up, Uraraka moved over to him, her hand gracing over down from his chest to his stomach, fingers tempting to down his length. He caught her wrist loosely, pushing it aside to her confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning over her, forehead pressed to her own.

“I wanted to make you feel good,” she said with a flutter of her eyelashes. Bakugou smirked.

“Nah, this is all about you, lie back down.” She did as she was told, crawling her way up the bed and waiting for him to follow after.

Bakugou wasted no time - he could have savoured the beauty of her in all her glory, gaze at her wonder, but he wanted to touch her more than anything. He crawled up the bed, sucking at her skin, nipping underneath her breast and sucking at the edge of her collarbone. All the while she hummed her approval, nipping into his shoulder briefly as they came face to face once more.

Moving his hand down between them, grazing against her most sensitive bundle of nerves, her body arching into his touch. He smirked, the briefest of touches could have her responding, he wondered what more could do for her. When he guided his length inside her, Uraraka’s hands went to his shoulders, pulling their bodies together.

There was only the sound of Uraraka’s panting in the room, but it couldn’t last - Bakugou knew himself too well, he wouldn’t be able to stay still for much longer. He moved his hips slow at first, gaining speed and arching into every thrust to get the best noises out of Uraraka. She obviously hated that she was getting louder and louder. But his ego sure as fuck loved it.

“Katsuki,” she mewled, nails clamped down into his back, raking up as his thrusts came in quicker succession. “Yes! Yes!” she cried, her hand on the back of his neck.

She pulled him down, kissing him roughly, and he enjoyed every fucking second of it. She bit into his bottom lip when she got excited. Bakugou couldn’t help himself, he rocked in harder, taking up the back of her knee. Uraraka arched her back, panting a little harder than even before.

In her movements, he was finally able to look at her without the overwhelming urge to take her. There were scars that littered her skin, some old, some new, following the curves of her waist and hips. Her breasts were round, much like the rest of her, and tempting as everything else - Bakugou kissed down her neck to take one of her nipples between teeth, just to have her push into him again. It worked to perfection, her breast rising beautifully into his mouth, and her hips bucking into his own when he gave a harder thrust. She was perfect to understand, to love and hold in a single moment.

“Ah!” Uraraka said suddenly, her body recoiling in a single beat. Bakugou’s eyes snapped to hers, watching her face contort in discomfort. He pulled away slightly, letting her body fall to where she needed, but never leaving the warm depths between her thighs. Uraraka sighed, laying back into the sheets and looking up at Bakugou with pinker cheeks than usual. He wanted to smile, but he with the sudden halt on everything, he wasn’t sure if the passion had fallen to its wake.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asked, hand ghosting over her side. Uraraka’s hand went to the side of Bakugou’s face, palm to his cheek and guiding him to look back at her.

“I’m fine,” she nodded, “just take it a little slower right now,” she said, a little nervous with a soft laugh to ease her discomfort of their eyes meeting.

“You sure?” he asked once more.

“Yeah,” she replied, Bakugou once again moving his hips, a slow roll to gauge her reaction. Uraraka’s head fell back into the pillow, hand tight in his bicep. “Yes, like that,” she approved, and he smirked.

Bakugou bent onto his elbows, arms snaking behind her back and propping her up into his arms. Uraraka squeaked, the sighing as she sunk down onto his length.

“What are you doing?” she asked, all the while, rocking herself back and forth. Bakugou grit his teeth, breathing out a moan into her chest before looking up at her with a satisfied grin.

“I can’t do all the work, round face,” he said. She leaned down, hands either side of his face, kissing him in a slow, deliberate manner - making them both savour it.

Everything was slow, Uraraka’s pace, soft strides to ease her into it - or perhaps it was the way he hissed everytime she moved, liking the way he sounded, much like he had done to her. Then, she gained confidence and speed, hips jerking in a quicker pace, before she just tried to gain satisfaction by any means possible. She was glorious.

He could feel her unwinding, with every move, and every bounce back onto his cock, he could feel her walls clamping down around him. Whenever she moved down upon him, he’d trust him, making her jump a little in his lap. Before either of them knew it, Uraraka cried out, clutching Bakugou to her chest, hands winding into his hair as she panted out moan after moan.

She sounded like a symphony - gorgeous at her ecstasy. Bakugou watched her move on top of him, her hands stroking through his hair as her eyes looked into his own. He’d never had sex like it - something that made him feel understood, that every movement, all the pace, it was perfect to know who they were between them. Bakugou never wanted to watch anyone else on top of his cock ever again, not unless they looked as beautiful as she did.

In a moment, between his utter wonder and the growing need to come completely undone, Uraraka pulled hard into Bakugou’s hair. He hissed and Uraraka moaned, arching into his new position wonderfully well and he wanted to just take everything he had left in him and please her to every extent he could.

Two could play at that game. He may not have been able to move as fast as he could have liked, but he knew she’d not protest to it. With his hand moving up her back, he took a fistful of her hair and pulled, her neck exposed to him, and fuck he felt hungry for it. His mouth descended upon it, sucking and kissing at her throat, feeling the vibrations of every moam against his tongue. He loved it, and Uraraka knew he enjoyed it too much - especially with every thrust he added to make her close to her next orgasm.

“No fair,” she hissed. Bakugou thrust into her again, and she moaned, pulling at his hair once more, but it was much lighter than it once had been.

“All’s fucking fair game,” he smirked, feeling Uraraka’s hand on his thigh. He thought she may need to lay back down when her finger suddenly bound into his leg, making him jerk upwards into her. She moaned, biting her lip and smiling down at him. “Fuck!” Bakugou groaned, looking back at her.

“All’s fucking fair game,” she repeated his words. Bakugou bit his lip, thrusting into her again, watching as she circled her hips down onto him again.

“If you weren’t injured, I’d -”

“You’d what?” she replied with a smirk, and between his heart bounding like a drum, and his head screaming, he knew he couldn’t stop himself.

“Fuck it,” Bakugou muttered, pushing his weight onto Uraraka’s and onto her back once more, thrusting in one long and hard motion. It wasn’t until after that he thought of his mistake - his lust getting the best of him. Uraraka’s hand went to his ass, gripping in hard with her nails enough to make him hiss. He looked at her face, lip between teeth and chest heaving for more.

“I’ll tell you if it hurts, just keep going,” she begged, forcing his hips closer. When he moved inside her again, she guided him in with a hard pull on his ass. It was harder than he would have, but she enjoyed it all the same - eyes closed and body calling to his like they were magnets that hated to be separated.

His mind told him to go slow, to make sure it all lasted how he needed it to - but he’d be damned if he didn’t chase the sound of her desperate moans to get his own satisfaction. Her next orgasm came over her quickly, her teeth went into his shoulder to suppress the sound, but it did little to help, other than to spur Bakugou on. Her legs went over his hips, heels at the base of his thigh and urging his ass forward with every move he made.

Intimacy was lost on Bakugou, he never liked how he felt being within it, but Uraraka made it all different somehow. When her hand snaked down his arm from his shoulder blade, her caught her wrist, holding it down onto the bed. And he found himself wanting. Like he’d never wanted something so badly in his life. His pressure on her slim wrist went slack, and his fingers slid into her palm, binding into the gaps of her fingers. Uraraka held on tight, their joined hands going over her head as Bakugou continued to stride within her.

She made sure they kissed every few seconds, whining until she could kiss him again, becoming louder and louder to get him to silence her with one of his bruising kisses. Uraraka was using him like a puppet, but he didn’t care - she was heaven to be inside, her body a wonderful combination of sweat and silk and his body was to blame for half of it.

“Oh god,” Uraraka cried, her free hand back in his hair, body moving against his again. He could feel her hardened nipples against his chest with every movement, and he wanted to put his mouth all over her body again. Taste every inch of her. Uraraka whined, hand on his cheek, nails piercing skin behind his ear and on his jaw. “I’m gonna -”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence, her release rocking through her in waves that made her hips jerk over and over again until Bakugou was following her. He held tight to her hand, the other was gripping tight into her thigh - unable to bring himself to move as he could his release come and go.

“Fuck,” he panted into her chest, trying hard to let her go, but it was no use, he’d drown in her skin before he’d let her move an inch.

Eventually, he had to - lying beside her as she moved to be on his chest. She was practically asleep by the time he’d shifted into his spot next to her.

“You good?” he asked her.

“Hm?” she replied, “Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

Bakugou shifted, aiming to leave. “Do you need me to -”

“If you move, I’ll kill you,” she warned, hands tight on his body as she held him close.

“Fucking fine, round face,” he said, letting her rest back onto his chest. He smiled, his own exhaustion following hers.

~*~*~

When he woke up, there was hair in his mouth. He threw his head back, spitting it out with a scowl and wincing when it flopped wetly onto his neck. A heavy weight lay on his side, numbing his arm under the pressure. His eyes struggled to open fully, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hazlenut hair he was very much used to.

Uraraka.

Holy fucking shit.

Bakugou groaned and slowly pulled his arms back only to stop dead still when she shifted. He waited, tense and holding his breath until she settled back down, soft snores puffing out onto his arm.

He tried again, and after a very slow escape over the next several minutes, he was free. Slipping from the sheets he staggered into the bathroom, took one look in the mirror at his neck covered in hickies, his hair a fucking mess and cheeks flushed - and barely recognised himself. There was no way his eyes should look that bright, or lips that swollen.

He’d had sex with his partner.

He splashed cold water on himself, and contemplated drowning himself in the sink. He could do this - it was just a moment of passion right? Happened all the time - or so he’d seen in all his mums shitty romcoms.

He could still feel her breathe against his face, hear the way she’d whispered his name. Feel her nails down his chest and the soft whimpers of her release echoing in his ear.

How the fuck was he meant to work like this? They were going to have to… to talk about this.

Holy fucking shit was right.

~*~*~

Bakugou hated quiet, and even with the sound of his pacing footsteps, it was all too much. He had half a mind to wake Uraraka from her sleep, or possibly just sit in her room to hear the fucker snore. Instead, he waited until the pot of coffee had fully brewed and made himself a mug. The rest of it waited for Uraraka to crawl her ass out of bed. It had been nearly two hours since he left, and she was still sound asleep.

He always knew she was a heavy sleeper, but it was like trying to wake to goddamn dead. He had went through most of her things, trying to entertain himself before he had to leave for work, and no matter how much noise he unintentionally made - she stayed in bed. The light of morning was peeking through her curtains, drawing a veil over most of her apartment and casting a glow on Uraraka that was criminal. Gorgeous was not the right word to describe her.

On his way to the kitchen hours before, he picked up his trail of clothes, putting on some as he walked past Uraraka’s. He was unsure of what the fuck to do with hers - was he supposed to pick them up? They were partners and it had been a habit before, long nights and untidy people tend to amount of a clean up when nights were done. But this was different. A line was crossed. They were more than partners.

Regret was something that was new to Bakugou, but he knew this wasn’t it. He stood in her kitchen and came to the conclusion that this was not something he’d ever regret. As far as the sex went, it was fucking great. It might’ve been the best he’d ever had. Maybe it was because he knew her, understood what her reactions could be and learning all new things about someone that he cared for. He wanted her to feel as good as he did.

Yet, what else would come of this? Was there a relationship there? Was he even ready for something like that? It wasn’t like he had one before to gauge what the fuck this even meant. His personality and overall work ethic was a pretty hard thing to deal with for most people. Uraraka was one of the only people that knew him, and still stuck around after. There was a trust between them, a fit that neither of them expected.

What did she even want? Was this all just heat of the moment?

He was about two seconds from marching into her room and finally dragging her out of bed when his phone chimed.

Shitty Hair: U need to come into work. Boss wants to see u

Bakugou rolled his eyes, gripping tight to his phone as he contemplated his next step. He took the remnants of his coffee and poured it down the sink, washing the mug briefly before putting on the remainder of his clothes. When he fixed his jacket over his shoulders, he stopped and saw into Uraraka’s room. She was curled into her sheets peacefully, and Bakugou grit his teeth.

When Kirishima texted again, Bakugou didn’t have time.

He left her apartment and went straight into work.

They could talk later.

He just wasn’t ready yet.

#kacchako #kacchako fic #bakugou x uraraka #uraraka x bakugou #my fics #the stakeout

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

Notebooks and post-it’s - chapter 2 - (Branjie) - thankyoumissvanjie

A/N: come the angst filled rabbit hole with me.

“Oh. It’s you. What do you want?” Vanjie wanted to shiver with the iciness of her tone, as Brooke just kept on blending her purple smokey eyes.

“We got’s to talk.”

LINK TO AO3 HERE

The season 11 tour was an experience.

It was hard work, an insane amount of travelling and also a bit like being on summer camp.

There was no other way for Nina explain it. Being together with her season 11 sisters was amazing. The absence of cameras made them all relax more, which made the drama disappear.

It made it possible for her to really appreciate all her sisters.

She was in awe over Yvie’s drag, she loved A’keria and her tendency to stir the pot. Plastique, Soju and Ariel made her feel old while teaching her everything about filters and hashtags. Shuga was a delight and Silky was loud and fun. Vanjie was… different?

Nina couldn’t really put her finger on it. Vanjie was still loud and hilarious. But something seemed very off.

It was, however, difficult to investigate, as both Silky and A’keria had kind of closed ranks around Vanjie.

They probably thought that Vanjie needed protection from Brooke, even though the Canadian queen was isolating herself from everyone, even Nina.

The last time Brock had reached out to her was weeks ago, as he called her in the middle of the night, sobbing and completely out of it. From what Nina could gather, Brock had drunk dialled Vanjie, only to realise that she was with… someone.

Nina tried to console him, to tell him that maybe he needed to reach out to Vanjie after he had sobered up.

But she knew that he hadn’t done it. In fact, the day after all she got was a text that said

Sorry. Got a bit too drunk last night and was an idiot. Please don’t make a thing out of this.

So Nina didn’t.

She left Brock alone and saw him transform into Brooke Lynn Hytes, current reigning queen. Brooke was flawless and if you didn’t know her you would think that she was doing okay.

But Nina could see the protective layers of ice that she had covered herself in. She saw how Brooke only truly shined on the stage and during Meet & Greet’s.

Nina noticed how the smile would fall from her lips the moment Brooke walked backstage. How the queen would keep to herself and not really participate in any of the shenanigans.

But Nina didn’t know what to do. Brooke had put up an impenetrable wall that would’ve made Trump jealous.

Seeing the heartbreak that Brooke was going through made Nina want to yell at Vanjie.

Except, It was clear that she was hurting too.

It was obvious that her eyes sought out Brooke in every room she entered. Just for a moment. Every single time that Vanjie thought no one was looking, she would search for Brooke.

So what was a soft and cuddly Miss Congeniality, who most of all just wanted her friends to be okay to do? Brooke was out of the question, and getting close to Vanjie seemed almost impossible to-

“Hello, hello, hello Miss Nina. Whadya done being hiding here?” The loud trucker voice startled her out of stupor, making her jump a little in her heels.

She turned around, coming face to face with Vanjie in full drag. Her brunette hair, thigh high boots and sparkly t-shirt dress made her look street-fish.

What she also noted was that Vanjie was alone.

“Biiiitch. You can’t scare an old woman like that!” Vanjie’s laugh sounded like a cross between a dying seagull and an old man having an asthma attack. Which in turn made Nina laugh.

Fucking Vanjie.

They both stopped laughing at the same time, staring at each other. Nina opened her mouth ready to finally broach the subject of a certain moody Canadian, but it was Vanjie who spoke first.

“How is he?” It was said quietly, yet quickly. Vanjie looked slightly surprised, as if she herself was bamboozled over the fact that she had actually asked that question.

It was certainly not what Nina expected.

“He’s…” she didn’t want to out Brock, certainly not to his ex. But lying to Vanjie also seemed out of the question. “...good. Yeah. Good.”

That fooled no one, you idiot.

“Don’t be lying. I know him. He be drinking and smoking like he’s Bianca’s Motherfucking twin. He ain’t right and I think I gone done fucked up…”

“Vanj…”

“I know you his good Judy and I ain’t trying to be starting anything… just… I see him and get emotianat- emotio- I get up in my feelings okay. He doesn't look good, Nina.”

“I know. But I-“

“And then he called me - we ain’t talking for months and he just calls drunk on vodka. What was I ‘posed to do? He had on his sad big eyes, looking like I ate the last bit of that stupid Canadian food he fucking love-“

“Poutine ?”

“Yeah, that Putin shit… He done left me, and then he be calling, at night? That’s some wrong ass shit, Miss Nina. I am trying to move on instead of thinking ‘bout what could’ve been. Bitch left me, so why he moping like a toddler?”

“You guys left each other. You were both scared and not ready. You know this. Stop only blaming him, Vanj.”

“I ain’t blaming him! I am just sayin’... he left me.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable. It made Nina’s heart ache.

These two idiots.

“Maybe you guys should talk with each. You’re not okay, and he is… whatever he is. Maybe you need to clear the air, there’s obviously some unfinished business here.”

“Okay, Miss A’keria. Have you seen that tall glass of Canadian ball busting ballerina? He don’t wanna talk with me. I’ve tried.”

“It’s Brooke. You gotta give her no choice. And come on. You’re Vanessa Vanjie Mateo. Since when have you ever let a little Canadian bacon get in your way”

“Well shit, mama. You’re right.” And with that she turned on her heel, marching down the hall with determined steps towards Brooks room.

_________

Vanjie was a chicken.

Despite her determined steps and iron will, she found herself faltering as she stood outside Brooke’s room.

Could she really do this? Maybe Nina was wrong, maybe she should just forget about all of this.

But then she thought about Brooke’s face, the way that she didn’t really seem happy anymore, and made a quick decision.

She was Miss Motherfucking Vanjie, and she sure as shit didn’t hide away nobody.

Pushing open the door, Vanjie barged in, quickly closing the door after herself, ensuring that they would have no audience for this.

The sudden sound made Brooke look up startled, getting eye contact through the mirror with Vanjie.

Her face went through several emotions in a span of a few seconds - all too quick for Vanjie to identify any of them - before she settled on cold and blank disinterest.

“Oh. It’s you. What do you want?” Vanjie wanted to shiver with the iciness of her tone, as Brooke just kept on blending her purple smokey eyes.

“We got’s to talk.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you. Please leave”

“No.”

“Vanj. Leave.”

“Nu-uh Mama, we doing this.” Vanjie quickly turned around and locked the door, leaning with her back up against looking right at Brooke.

She knew that Brooke could lift her with a pinky, if she really wanted to move her, but shit, there weren’t a lot of options left.

“Oh. So now you want to talk?” Brooke turned around in her chair, looking Vanjie directly in the eye instead of through the mirror. Her eyes were thunderous and Vanjie wanted to cheer out loud, as it was the most emotion the queen had directed at her since it became official that they had broken up.

“Yeah. I’m done hidin’... So let’s talk.” Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Vanjie looked at Brooke expectantly.

“About what? What could I possibly have to say to you?” Brooke got up from her swivel chair and walked towards Vanjie. She was wearing her signature blonde hair and her purple stepford-wife-kaftan-realness dress was swishing behind her.

Vanjie’s mouth dried up, as she was once again reminded of the beauty that was Brock in full drag. The beauty and grace made Vanjie want to stare at her forever, while also making her tingle with the need to wreck the sheer perfection in front of her.

“No really? What? You want to talk about how everyone is blaming me? What about your little post-it quote? Should we discuss how A’keria and Silky keep giving me the side eye?” Brooke’s voice slowly increased in volume as she walked closer and closer to Vanjie. Towering over the smaller queen.

“No wait… I know. Let’s talk about how I fucking have to stare are your face every day and be reminded of what could’ve been!” Brooke poked Vanjie in the chest her eyes flashing.

“I am done with all of this.”

Vanjie’s heart skipped a beat as her mind processed what Brooke had just said “what could’ve been”, the air electric between them.

“We have a meet & greet in 10 minutes.” Brooke was gorgeous, her blue eyes like a storm, anger collected in the fine lines of her face. “So move.”

“No.” Vanjie stood her ground, the word almost getting caught in her throat, Brooke looking like a hunter.

“Move.”

Brooke stepped forward, and Vanjie was the first one to move, her hand slamming into Brooke’s chest pushing her back slightly

“Oh...” Brooke looked down at the hand, like she couldn’t believe what Vanjie had just done.

Brooke shoved back, Vanjie almost stumbling, and then they were kissing, teeth clicking, lips sliding, hands gripping, tearing, taking and Vanjie wanted to disappear into Brooke.

“You fucking bitch.”

The words were hissed through clenched teeth, as Vanjie grabbed Brooke’s hair, her fingers buried in the blonde wig and pulling, forcing Brooke closer, making her be the aggressor. Brooke was quick to catch on, slamming Vanjie against the door.

“No, you’re the bitch.” Brooke whispered it between kisses.

It was hot and hateful, tender and burning, everything crashing down with the words they could not bring themselves to say out loud. Their bodies telling stories of longing and love, of broken promises and heartbreaks that were still bleeding. Tender stories of what they both so desperately wished they could still have; their swollen lips, gripping fingers and tender jaws an exchange between two wounded people who had no language left, but the most primal of all.

It was Brooke who broke them apart.

Brooke who stood up and turned to the mirror, checking her makeup.

It was Brooke who avoided Vanjie’s eyes as she calmly walked out of the dressing room with the parting words:

“You better fix your makeup, meet & greet starts soon”

Vanjie was left all alone in the dressing room. With a heaving chest, wide eyes and a muddled mind that tried to understand what had just happened.

“Well… shit.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #angst #canon compliant #post break-up #hurt/comfort #notebooks and post its #thankyoumissvanjie #s11

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