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oreomonsterhunter · 4 years ago

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Life Sucks

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Word Count: 10K (I know.....this was a surprise for me, too)

Genre: fluff, romantic comedy

Warnings: language (our characters have a tendency to curse, apparently)

Summary: Sunshine reader is in love with love, but hasn’t had much luck with it herself. When she meets Minho, a self-proclaimed cynic and disbeliever of “true love”, she’s determined to change his life. If she can’t find the love of her life, she’s going to try to find his.

This fic was inspired by a tag game once upon a time. It was supposed to be a short drabble, but apparently I can’t hold back with Minho. Tag game featured this specific Lee Know and just kinda spiraled from there lol

Nearing the end of January, winter sometimes seemed endless. Yet when you stepped out into the morning chill, you were pleasantly surprised to find the snow banks melting a bit. Your boots splashed through small puddles as you strode down the street, and you smiled softly at the lavender sky. It was still early enough—for a Saturday—that the sidewalks weren’t too packed yet, so you indulged in a more leisurely walk than usual, dancing along to the music from your headphones. You caught a few odd looks, but you simply smiled and waved at everyone you passed. They could judge your happiness all they wanted, nothing could possibly spoil your day when it was off to such a good start—

“Shit,” you gasped, jumping back onto the curb as a car barrelled through a red light. Had you been a second slower, you would’ve been a vehicular manslaughter case. “Asshole,” you hollered after them, flipping two middle fingers in the air.

You exhaled a sharp breath through your nose, attempting to banish the exasperation and get back into your music again. More careful this time, you double checked both ways down the street before entering the crosswalk.

Unfortunately, your streak of bad luck continued. Just as you hopped off the street, a truck passed by behind you, tires bumping through a pothole. And with the recent snowmelt, this resulted in a spray of cold water hitting the backs of your legs.

You froze, mind stuttering as you tried to comprehend how the morning had taken such a turn, all within your first five minutes outside. Pursing your lips, you twisted around to inspect the damage. The dirty water might stain your jeans, but the most pressing matter was the cold and wet denim now plastered to your legs from your calves to the backs of your knees. You bit your lip, contemplating just turning back and spending the whole day in your apartment. Pajamas, a blanket, hot coffee and tea readily available. Maybe a movie, just because you could.

Then you shook your head, determined to make the best of the day. You wanted a cappuccino, dammit. And chocolate babka from the cafe. No homicidal drivers or puddles could stop you. It was a Saturday, just past sunrise, and you had a whole day ahead of you. No need to wallow a few minutes in. And besides, who knew what would happen.

You set off for the cafe, determination heavy in each step. You forced a smile back onto your lips, though it was thinner than before. You switched to a different playlist so that your boots could thump the concrete in time. And you breathed, spooling calmness back into yourself.

It was a Saturday. You might meet the love of your life today. And nothing could stop you from finding out.

The bell over the front door jingled merrily, and you softened a little further, relaxing into the familiar surroundings. You hardly even noticed the damp denim chafing your legs as you skipped up to the counter.

Ruth, currently manning the register, chuckled as she rang up another customer. “Well would you look at that, the sun came shining right in our front door,” she said.

“Good morning,” you giggled. You waved to Jonathan, Ruth’s husband, in the back. The couple had been running the little cafe and bakery for years, and you were a faithful customer, coming by at least once a week since you first moved to the neighborhood.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he called, hands busy kneading dough for what would doubtless become something delicious. You hummed thoughtfully, considering the baked goods in the glass case before you.

“Your usual?”

You tapped a finger on your chin, “You know, the poppy seed muffins look awfully tempting. I might just have to switch it up today.”

Ruth nodded, tapping on the register. You handed over the requisite bills and she shooed you off, sliding the muffin over the counter. “Go on now, a table opened up by the window, perfect spot. I’ll bring the coffee in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you said, but Ruth was already fussing over the espresso machine. Shaking your head, you weave through the maze of tables and chairs, dodging patrons on your way to the window seat.

You had your eyes on the prize, and you were only a few feet from the chair when you pulled up short. A stranger, their back to you, plopped down in your chair. You blinked, suddenly and painfully aware of your wet pants, the muffin growing cool in your hand, the fact that you could give up now and walk home but perhaps you’d just get hit by a car and never get a chance to enjoy your breakfast. You sighed deeply, breathing out through your nose as you closed your eyes, seeking inner peace or something.

“Can I help you?”

The voice knocked you out of your momentary meditation, and you looked at the table thief in surprise. He loosened the fluffy scarf around his neck before sliding his arms out of his winter coat. A beret, of all things, tilted dangerously to the side before he adjusted it on his head. He looked like some kind of absent-minded professor, but for the youthful features that peered up at you. A sharp nose, tinted red from the cold, and a soft mouth. Dark and depthless eyes, paired with high cheekbones and a cutting jawline.

You realized you were staring when he waved at you, eyes widened. “Hello?”

“Um, sorry, I just,” you stammered, lost for words.

“Do you want to sit or something?”

You stopped again, mouth dropping open. You checked the time—you had fifteen minutes or so, enough time for another table to open up. “Uh, sure, if that’s ok with you. I was hoping for a table, I’m meeting someone,” you said, beginning to ramble.

“No problem, I don’t need all this space, and I’ll head out soon,” he cut you off, raising one brow at you when you continued to stand there, rooted to the spot.

Ruth’s arrival with your cappuccino was what ultimately forced your hand. You sat down, gratefully accepting the drink, your smile less shaky with a taste of the familiar.

“I didn’t think they did table service,” the stranger mused.

“They don’t, I just know the owners,” you shook your head, cutting yourself off when you saw his disinterest. “Sorry, I should introduce myself,” you switched tacks, giving your name with a bright grin. So what if it was forced?

The stranger looked at you, and his lips twitched in a shadow of a smirk. “Minho,” he responded.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward, and you found yourself leaning forward desperately. “So how’s your day so far?”

Minho snorted, reaching for his own drink—an iced americano, you guessed, despite it being the middle of winter. “Probably better than yours.”

“What?” your brows furrowed in confusion.

He gestured to your legs with one hand. “Unfortunate accident this morning?”

Your lips tightened, holding back a frown, “Puddles, you know.”

Minho sighed, sounding sympathetic now, rather than snarky. “Yeah, life sucks, doesn’t it?” And there was the sarcasm again.

“One or two bad things doesn’t mean life sucks,” you countered, sipping your coffee. “I’m excited about the rest of the day, it’s not even eight in the morning! And it’s the weekend, and it’s sunny and warm, and I have hot coffee and a delicious muffin, and the world is out there and ready to be enjoyed,” you finished, lips curling up as you looked out the window at the sunrise, the horizon flaming golden.

“Sounds like you’ve never had a job,” a harsh voice cut into your admiration. Your smile faltered as you looked back at Minho. You gaped at him, brain processing the way this soft-looking boy sounded like the king of cynics. The last thing you expected from someone wearing a fuzzy beret and looking like a sly teddy bear was this blunt conversation. “No one’s that excited when they have to work fifty plus hour weeks to pay the bills. Trust fund baby?” he inquired, sipping calmly.

Yep, there was no fighting the frown now. “No, and I don’t appreciate the judgement. Why can’t I just be happy?”

Minho smirked, “Never said you can’t. I just wanted to see if you had a personality beyond being Positive Polly.”

Your eyes flamed, but your phone buzzed, distracting you before you could smite the snarky boy. You fumbled at your coat pocket, whipping out the device to check for a new message. You slumped—just a spam email.

“Waiting for something important?” Minho asked, tilting his head.

You huffed, shoving the device back in your pocket. “As a matter of fact, yes,” you sassed, tossing your hair over one shoulder. “I’m waiting for a date.”

He hummed at you, expression unreadable. “You’re too excited.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, eyeing the clock on the far wall of the cafe.

“You’re significantly early, watching the clock like a hawk, and they haven’t even texted you an update.” He took a long sip. “What time is your date anyway? Eight in the morning? They’re not coming.”

Your smile faltered again. Damn him, why was a total stranger dimming your joy? You shoved your chair back, even though no tables had opened up yet. You’d wait by the counter and chat with Ruth. Anything was better than this asshole.

Minho glanced over his shoulder, checking the clock himself. “Five past, and still nothing,” he commented.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

A spark appeared in his eyes, and he grinned. “Good to see you have some backbone,” he commented.

You could’ve sworn steam was coming out of your ears, but your phone vibrated again. You checked the lock screen, seeing a new text pop up from Jay: hey I can’t make it. You swiped on the message, but nothing followed it. Seriously? That was it? No explanation, and not even a half-assed apology?

“Told you so.”

You spun to face Minho, glare renewed. “And what makes you so sure of yourself and my date?” you demanded.

He snorted, “Life sucks; so does dating. The only thing you’re guaranteed is disappointment.”

Your anger faded slightly as you watched the boy sip his iced coffee, his silhouette stark against the snow outside. When you took a breath to get past your own mingled frustration—both at Jay and your new snarky companion—you saw the tense lines of his face. You wondered what disappointment had left Minho so defensive.

“Alright, enlighten me,” you said, throwing yourself back in the chair. This time, you settled in, sliding out of your coat and leaning forward with your coffee. “Who broke your heart?”

A look of disgust slid over those pretty features. “No one broke anything,” he scoffed, turning to the window and giving you another dose of his sharp profile. You rested your chin on your hand thoughtfully, just watching him and waiting. “Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered. “You’re not my therapist.”

“But I am a perfectly kind stranger. And strangers are the easiest people to talk to,” you said sunnily.

“And don’t sound so happy.”

“No can do, people call me Sunshine for a reason.”

Minho gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not calling you that.”

Now you were the one with a cocky smirk, “Why, does it hurt your delicate masculinity?”

A beat of silence, and then, “One of my best friends is called Sunshine.” Minho looked at you sharply. “I’m not calling you that,” he said again.

You waved him off, oddly touched in spite of his gruff tone. This human version of grumpy cat had a best friend named Sunshine? Incredible, and surprisingly soft of him. “Ok fine, no arguments from me. Tell me about her. Or him, whoever it is,” you stumbled over your words.

Minho didn’t seem to notice your blundering. He stared somewhere beyond your shoulder, “No one broke my heart.” Then his eyes focused on you again as he asserted, “I’ve just experienced enough to know better than to hope blindly. The world isn’t looking out for you.”

Humming, you folded your arms as you considered his statements. “Well, I believe in true love,” you started.

“Why am I not surprised?” Minho groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I also believe in the power of positive thinking,” you continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Ignoring his dramatic moaning, you steamrolled ahead. “Yeah, my morning turned out pretty shitty, but if I just go crawl back in bed, I’ll have wasted a whole day over something as silly as wet jeans.”

“Wet jeans and being stood up.”

“And being stood up,” you allowed, gritting your teeth to maintain a smile. “But if I let that stop me from living my life, then I’ve let the negative win. If I go check out a new dating app or two and keep trying, one day I’ll have something good.”

Minho put his coffee down, resting one hand on the table as he met your eyes, gaze hard. “Listen, nothing good comes out of a dating app. You’re wasting your time. And didn’t you say you hate doing that?”

You wanted to argue, but your friends had told you much of the same. Minho was just less polite in his delivery. But you hadn’t had any luck with real life men, either. Case in point: your irritating argument with the perfectly attractive guy in front of you. So that left apps, even if the pickings were regrettably slim. And only growing slimmer, if the ghost date was any indication. You didn’t have the guts to tell Minho that this wasn’t the first time you’d been stood up.

Then you had an idea. Your grin widened, and Minho’s irritated expression faded into apprehension. “Well if I’m doomed to never find love,” you started, batting your eyelashes teasingly. “Why don’t I look for the love of your life instead?”

Minho blanched, recoiling with enough force that his chair rocked back on two legs. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“I think it’s a terrific idea,” you beamed at him. “I’ve been a successful matchmaker for a bunch of my friends, too. I’ve just had trouble finding my own love interest.”

“What is this, a rom com?” he hissed.

You clapped your hands, overcome with excitement for the first time since the puddle. “Oh, a romance, I wish,” you nearly swooned at the thought. “I promise I’ll do my best. You’d get along great with one of my friends, they’re just as irritable as you.”

Minho exhaled sharply, massaging his forehead with one hand. He closed his eyes, muttering, “What am I doing here?”

“Wait, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. No matchmaking until I know you better,” you amended, whipping out a notebook and pen from your bag. You had just about everything in there—you never knew what emergency might pop up, like brainstorming a match for a stranger. “What are some of your hobbies? Favorite color? Ooh, what about first date activities you love? Oh my goodness, wait, are you looking for men or women?”

Part of you expected Minho to shove his chair back and leave. You wouldn’t be too upset, that just meant you’d have the table to yourself, even if you weren’t waiting on a date anymore. But you didn’t totally hate this guy. And another part of you kind of felt bad for him. He’d never experienced love! Not that you’d had a taste of true love, either, but you knew what was out there. And it was a shame that he didn’t see that too. It was like...someone hating your favorite holiday—unacceptable, if only because you wanted everyone to enjoy it as much as you did.

You begrudgingly admitted that another teeny tiny part of you thought he was too attractive to be so cynical of love. Some lucky girl out there was waiting for Minho, and you were gonna help her out, even if it meant dragging the man kicking and screaming towards her.

But Minho didn’t do what you expected. He didn’t storm off, coffee in hand, scarf flapping in the wind dramatically. He sighed and stood up, but made no move for his coat. “If we’re doing this, I need more coffee,” he said, then turned and made a beeline for the counter without any further explanation.

You blinked after him, more than a bit surprised. He was...going along with this? You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully, watching his shoulders flex beneath his turtleneck as he talked to Ruth. His head turned slightly, and you caught a glimpse of his smile—a real one—taking your breath away.

Now, if only you could get him to smile like that for any potential dates. You clicked your pen with renewed vigor, laughing when Minho approached with a new coffee, exasperation written into every line of his face.

* * * * *

It was a lovely Thursday night, and you were curled up on the couch in your comfiest pajamas. Your only companions were a blanket, a mug of tea, and your phone, which you checked every fifteen seconds. The first time all week that Minho hadn’t answered your messages, and it was the night of his first date. You were buzzing with anticipation, practically vibrating as you waited for news, not caring who it came from first.

Finally, you gave up waiting, throwing the blanket as you went to reheat your tea, since you’d let it grow cold while refreshing your messages. The second you reached the kitchen, however, you heard a buzz. You dashed to the couch, scrambling for your phone to find a text from Mari:

He had to dip early, lame date

You nearly screeched. He left? Your fingers pounded the screen:

What!?!?!! Did he say whyyy?

Mari’s response was short and to the point:

An “emergency”

You could read between the lines. Mari was irritated, to say the least, since the blind date had been your brilliant idea. But what on earth had happened with Minho? Your stomach dropped, considering that he might have an actual emergency. You quickly tapped out a message to him to check in, gnawing your lip in worry.

Hey, Mari said you had an emergency, is everything ok?

You waited what felt like ten thousand years before finally seeing the little bubbles appear. His message, however, was not worth the wait:

Didn’t get on with her

You fumed, pressing dial on his contact with enough force, you were amazed your screen didn’t crack. “You left because you didn’t like her?” you screeched as soon as he picked up.

“Yes.”

Gaping like a fish, you fumbled for words to explain how bad that was. “You can’t just—”

“But I did,” Minho cut you off.

“But you can’t,” you said, exasperated. “Jeez, I thought you knew what you were doing. Obviously not. You need a practice date or something so my friends don’t murder you.”

Now it was Minho’s turn to squawk indignantly. “I do not need practice,” he started.

“Yes, obviously you do. You might look like a player but you’ve obviously never talked to a girl for more than ten minutes,” you scolded him. “Who leaves in the middle of a date? With that bad of an excuse?”

“I hate wasting my time. Didn’t we discuss how we should avoid doing that with our love lives,” he snarked.

You groaned, “There’s a difference between not wasting your time and being rude as heck.”

“So what? She was abrasive, rude, cynical, and had a terrible sense of humor,” Minho said, as casually as if he was discussing the weather. “I can’t believe you’re friends.”

“That’s a pretty great description of you, too,” you sassed back, irritation taking over. “We might not be that close, but you can’t just insult everyone I set you up with.”

“Who said I wanted you to set me up with anyone?”

“I assumed you did, otherwise why are you going along with this?” you tried your best to calm down, lower your voice. But something about Minho just put your back up.

“Uh,” Minho actually seemed lost for words. Your ears perked up, eager to catch his answer. “My mom wants to set me up with her friends’ daughters,” he tossed out at last.

Seemed a bit too easy. “Sure,” you drawled, leaning back on the couch.

“Yes, really,” he sneered, and you giggled, picturing the exact expression on his face.

“Ok, whatever you say,” you allowed, laughing slightly. “But you’re still going on a practice date. Tomorrow night, six o’clock. Meet me at the cafe. If you’re not there, I’m gonna find your mom and help her out.”

You hung up on him before he could argue with you, grinning madly as you concocted your plan.

* * * * *

You half expected to wait for Minho to show up, much like your friend did, but much to your surprise, he was waiting for you under the awning when you arrived. “You’re late,” Minho accused, and you grinned sheepishly. You may or may not have lied about the time. Just in case.

“The queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early,” you quipped. Minho rolled his eyes—absolutely what you expected. You giggled, linking your arm through his and tugging him down the sidewalk with you.

“Woah,” Minho yanked at his arm, trying to free himself. “If you wanted to hold hands, you could have asked.”

“You’re too much of a grinch, you’d just say no.”

“Exactly. It’s called consent, sweetheart.”

He nearly fell at the sudden freedom when you released him, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets to escape the chill. “Alright, follow me then, you unromantic dork.” He muttered under his breath as you skipped away, having fun despite his attitude. Time to show him what a real date looked like.

Five seconds later, and not even two blocks from the cafe, Minho groaned, “Are we there yet?”

“No.”

A pause, then, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” you told him, not for the first time. He’d texted you all night, demanding to know, but your lips were sealed.

Except a certain someone seemed determined to annoy the answers out of you. “Are we there yet?”

You sighed, your skip feeling a little less peppy. “No.”

“Are we—”

“Minho,” you ground out. “If you ask me that one more time, I’m taking you to get your nails done.”

“Ok, sure. I could use a bit of pampering,” he said, the epitome of casual.

You stared at him. “This feels like a trick,” you said slowly.

A grin flashed, “That’s because it is. It’s after six, they’re all closed by now.” But then he frowned slightly. “Now you have me wanting a manicure though, I’ve never gotten one.”

Your brows were practically in your hairline but you just nodded. “Ok, another time, then,” you agreed. You caught sight of a familiar street sign and quickened your steps. “Almost there,” you were nearly vibrating in excitement. You felt Minho’s eyes on you, your skin prickling with awareness, but you ignored him in favor of racing around the street corner. And there it was—the zoo! All lit up...all lit…...not lit up at all. Your feet stumbled to a halt.

“So the zoo is open at night now?” Minho inquired at your shoulder.

You gaped at the dark expanse before you. “But where are the lights?” Because indeed, not a single light was on in the zoo. You’d just visited, not too long ago, and they had been open for night visits, so guests could walk around and see the trees all lit up, and wave hello to a few animals in the enclosures.

“Lights?”

“The Christmas lights,” you cried out, frantic. “They were up the last time I was here.”

“You mean a month ago? For Christmas? Back when it was still December?” Minho questioned you. You nearly snapped back before you realized. It was January. February next week. Of course the lights were down, what kind of idiot were you?

You groaned in defeat, slumping against the wall and sliding down to a crouch. You threw your arms over your head. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, then. I’m sorry I made you walk all this way,” you mumbled into your knees, wishing you could disappear into the sidewalk. Gosh, and you’d really dragged him along, hadn’t you? He obviously hadn’t been that excited, and all of your mysterious “it’s a surprise” nonsense only made this a bigger disappointment.

“It’s a Friday night, things are still open, you know,” Minho pointed out. “So what if you somehow forgot a whole month happened. I forget the year sometimes.”

“What are you, an old man?” you tried to perk up, but the tease fell flat.

“I’m only twenty-two. You must be ancient.” You picked up your head to look at him. A faint smile curled on his lips as he played along.

“Oh my gosh, I’m your noona. If you’re a grandpa, then I’m practically in the grave,” you forced out a chuckle.

Minho’s smile grew, and he extended a hand. “Come on, get up. Night’s still young.”

For a moment, you simply stared at his hand. Then you met his dark gaze, “You aren’t going to take advantage of this? I thought you hated the whole practice date idea.”

He sighed, wiggling his fingers at you. “I don’t hate spending time with you, alright? Now get up or I’m leaving you here.”

Your mouth twitched, a true smile threatening to form, and not just a cover-up. You slid your hand in his gratefully, and Minho pulled you to your feet with more strength than you thought he had. You blinked at him, realizing he hadn’t let your hand go yet. But the second his eyes followed your gaze, he dropped it, sliding his hands into his pants pockets instead.

“So where to?” Minho asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, remembering a pretty little outdoor skating rink, but the skies cracked open, interrupting you with a sudden deluge. You gasped as the first fat raindrops splattered on your forehead, eyes widening before you made a mad dash for the nearest storefront, Minho already a few steps ahead of you.

You’d barely been in the rain for a minute, but the icy water had your teeth chattering already. Had it been any colder, this would’ve been pretty snow. Instead, you got an arctic firehose.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you peered down the street. Beside you, Minho checked a weather app, hissing through his teeth. “Looks like rain all night,” he muttered.

You groaned again, wanting to cry. You’d completely messed up the evening, first with the lights, and now by not checking the weather. You’d planned an outdoor date, why hadn’t you checked?

A hand brushed your shoulder lightly, barely detectable through your coat. “Um, this might not be what you had planned, but my apartment is actually on this street. Wanna just order pizza?”

Your first instinct was a vehement “no”, but you stopped that answer on the tip of your tongue. Minho wasn’t one of the sleazy guys you’d gone out with in the past, the ones who’d thought an apartment invite was more than that. Plus, this wasn’t a real date or anything. It was a practice date, just pals, nothing crazy about that. So why couldn’t you grab pizza at his place? Especially with the monsoon and a long walk back to your own place. And no umbrella.

You found yourself nodding, shivers wracking your body. Minho’s teeth flashed in another fierce grin, “Alright, sweetheart, let’s make a run for it. In three, two, one—”

The two of you raced down the slick sidewalks, dodging lampposts and puddles alike. You skidded to a stop at one of the apartment buildings, nearly slamming into Minho’s back as he yanked the door open, and the two of you tumbled into the warm lobby. Once out of the wet, Minho shook his head like a dog, water droplets spraying everywhere, and you shrieked, hands coming up to protect yourself.

“Sorry,” Minho laughed, not sounding apologetic in the least. “I’m on the sixth floor, so we can take the elevator,” he said, pointing you in the right direction.

The ride up was awkward; the only sound was your jacket zipper rattling from the force of your shivers. Minho unlocked the door to his apartment, waving a hand dramatically. You stepped inside tentatively, toeing off your boots by the door. You watched Minho follow suit, then pad over to a closet along one wall. Your confusion abated when he emerged with towels, passing one to you with raised brows. The two of you were still soaking wet, and you didn’t want to track rainwater all over his apartment.

Minho was already drying his head off one-handed. When he stopped, letting the towel slip down to rest on his shoulders, you giggled at the sight of his hair. He made a face, only adding to the comic effect of his hair standing on end.

“I know you drink coffee, but what about hot tea?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen while you continued to dab at your clothes.

You nodded enthusiastically, eyeing the space from where you stood in the entryway. It was pretty minimal, not a ton of color or anything, but cozy. Black couch, gray curtains, some photos on the wall. Fairly tidy, but definitely nothing out of a magazine. A meow at your feet interrupted your train of thought, and you looked down to coo at the cats that were slowly approaching. “Well aren’t you gorgeous,” you complimented the bravest of the three, who nosed at your hand gingerly.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho said, pointing at each cat in turn. He leaned on the counter while waiting for the water to boil.

“They’re adorable,” you beamed at him. “And much more friendly.”

“Hey,” he narrowed his eyes. “I’m friendly.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed at him. Your mirth was interrupted by a fierce shiver, reminding you that you might not be dripping wet, but your clothes were still icy cold.

Minho eyed you as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I have sweats you can borrow.”

You started to protest, but the next shudder of cold made you change your mind. Besides, you didn’t want to get his furniture soaking wet. So you nodded and waited while Minho disappeared into the bedroom. You shuffled awkwardly to the kitchen, toes curling in your socks.

Minho reappeared. “Here,” he said, voice gruff. He pressed a pair of sweatpants into your hands, along with a fuzzy looking sweatshirt. Your turtleneck wasn’t too wet, just a little damp along the neckline, but you slid the extra layer over your head gratefully. Before you had to ask him, Minho pointed to a half-open door. “The bathroom. I’m going to get something dry on, too,” he added.

You smiled in relief, escaping to the small bathroom gratefully. As soon as the door was shut, you were scrabbling at the soaking wet denim, peeling it down your legs. You grimaced, not missing this experience at all after the last time. Minho’s sweatpants were soft and oh so warm by comparison. And fleece-lined, too. You slung your jeans over the shower rod to dry, rolled the ankles of your borrowed pants—just enough so you wouldn’t be drowning in excess material—and went in search of that promised hot tea.

You found Minho on the phone in the kitchen. When he noticed you, he waved you closer. “Do you like anything on your pizza?” he asked.

“Um,” you scrambled to collect your thoughts. “Cheese?”

Minho cracked a smile. “Cheese it is then. And peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, garlic, basil,” he rattled off what sounded like an entire grocery list. When he noticed you staring, Minho raised his brows in confusion. You shook your head with a small laugh, leaving him to it. On the counter behind him, you found two mugs, tea bags already steeping. You wrapped your cold fingers around one, humming in contentment. Finally, the shivers stopped.

“Wanna watch a movie while we wait for pizza?” Minho asked, but then he froze, grimacing. “Oh shit, sorry. I mean, you can go home if you want. I don’t mean to keep you if you don’t want to stay. I have an umbrella, and you can keep the sweats I guess—”

“Sure how about a romance?” you interrupted him, grabbing your tea and making your way to the couch. You plopped down, eyeing Minho, who was still stiff as a board by the counter. You giggled at him, “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from Mr. Darcy.”

That seemed to knock him out of his stupor. An indignant expression wiped away any trace of sheepishness, and he stomped over to find the remote. “Yeah right,” he scoffed. “I’m not watching a romance.”

“A romantic comedy then,” you decided, snatching the remote out of his hands.

He grabbed it back, lightning quick. “Action.”

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “Drama. Fight me and I’ll demand a Hallmark movie.”

Minho smirked, “Fight me and I’ll make it a horror movie.”

You groaned in disgust, glaring at him. “Ok, fine, let’s fight over it. Rock, paper, scissors?”

He rolled his eyes, but ended up on the couch beside you, holding one fist out to meet yours. “Best out of three,” he smirked. “Get ready for a zombie fest.”

After a crushing defeat, Minho slumped on the couch, moaning dramatically when you selected Pride and Prejudice. You giggled at the grumpy man beside you, and his similarity to Mr. Darcy. Most notably their matching pouts.

To your surprise, Minho didn’t interrupt the movie once. Sure, he grumbled at first, but when you snuck a peek at him after about half an hour, you caught him watching intently.

You’d seen the movie at least a dozen times by now, but you still couldn’t resist the pull, and your heart fluttered at the brush of hands the way it did every time. Your breath caught at every interaction, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away to save your life. Until the pizza arrived, at least. You were about to press play, two slices at the ready, when Minho looked over at you. “Why are you so in love with the idea of love?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a moment, taken aback. “What?”

“Not just the movie, but real life,” he said, twisting to face you fully. “Why are you so determined to find Mr. Right? Or to set me up on the perfect date?”

“Don’t you want to find someone?” you questioned him, backing away from the question. “You can’t possibly be putting up with me just to avoid your mom playing matchmaker. I’m literally no better than that.”

He scoffed, “You haven’t met my mother.”

“Maybe I should team up with her.”

“Oh please no.”

You grinned, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Oh please yes,” you teased. “Two matchmakers are better than one.”

Minho shot you an unimpressed look. “I told her I already have a girlfriend, but I felt bad lying to her, so I’m hanging out with you instead.”

You nearly choked on your pizza. So you were a pity friend, great. Or worse, you weren’t even real friends, you were just a convenient excuse to alleviate Minho’s guilt complex. You set the slice back down, no longer hungry.

“Hey, you know I’m joking, right? That was a joke. I’m sarcastic all the time, remember?” Minho nudged you.

“Yeah, sure.”

Minho sighed, leaning over to bump his shoulder into yours. “I might not love the matchmaking, or this dumb movie, but I guess I’m glad we bumped into each other so I could tell you to dump ghost boy from Tinder.” You snorted, biting back a small smile. Noticing this, Minho forged ahead, “And this better not be part of the act to get me to forget my first question, because you still haven’t answered.”

“Minho,” you whined. “Why does it matter?”

“Pretend it’s girls night. We’re practically having a sleepover, minus the nail polish and braids. This is the part where we talk about boys,” he smirked.

“I hate you.”

“Do we need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You next?”

Your brows rose. “I thought you didn’t like romance, how do you even know that movie?”

“.....No reason. Now answer the question already,” he huffed.

You sighed, curling up on your end of the couch. “I guess it’s just something I’m not good at, so I can’t help wanting it to fall in my lap,” you said. “I can’t pull all nighters to find love, that’s not how it works.”

“Well no, studying isn’t the answer,” Minho agreed.

“My parents have the kind of love I want. I’m not rosy-eyed or anything, I know it’s hard work and commitment. But the friendship—that’s what I love the most.”

The two of you sat in silence for a little while, Minho chewing on your words. And you mused on your recent attempts to find a partner. Perhaps dating apps weren’t the way to go, you admitted. Not to Minho, though. He’d never let you hear the end of it.

“Maybe,” Minho started. “You should look for new friends instead of new boyfriends.”

“What do you think this is?” you laughed. “I’ve been setting you up, not looking on Tinder or whatever for myself.”

“Good, you’ve wasted enough time on those trash apps already,” he groused.

You grinned at him, “So I guess you don’t want me to start looking for Bumble girls, huh?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

You giggled, but Minho pressed play on the movie before you could tease him any more. To your surprise, he looked as interested in the ending as you were. You doubted he was misty-eyed like you, though.

A yawn snuck up on you, and you glanced at the clock in surprise. How had it gotten so late? “I should probably be going,” you started.

“I’ll walk you home. It’s late.” Minho grabbed your dishes to bring to the sink, snatching them right out of your hands. You blinked after him, then shrugged, making your way to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, your jeans were still damp, but they’d be fine for the walk home. You squeezed yourself back into the denim, emerging with the borrowed sweatpants. “Laundry?” you asked, since Minho was busy with the dishes.

“Just inside the bedroom, next to the door,” he gestured with his chin, hands still sudsy.

You slid the sweatshirt off as well, placing both in the hamper by the door. Despite your curiosity, you didn’t linger, but you caught a glimpse of an equally tidy bedroom. And a large bed with dark sheets. Why was your heart pounding? Mr. Darcy hadn’t been that distracting. You shook your head, hurrying out of the room. Only then you came face-to-face with Minho, and you had to fight a blush. What on earth was wrong with you?

The awkwardness continued, and you felt strange and itchy the whole walk home with Minho. You were hyper aware of how close you were under the umbrella, of the way your elbows brushed every few steps. Minho was surprisingly quiet, as well. Ordinarily, he’d be making fun of you by now.

As you walked the last block together, you tilted your head to look at him. “So tonight was a fail,” you said.

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“The practice date?” you giggled at his expression. “Total failure.”

Minho’s frown deepened, “I thought it was fun. Even if you made me watch a period drama.”

“Oh no, it was wonderful, but the date part of it was a bust. We need to do another, since tonight doesn’t count,” you told him, slowing to a stop in front of your building’s entrance.

“Well what does count?” Minho asked, exasperation dripping from his tone.

“Hmm, something in public. No one ever does a private first date, and obviously that’s what you need the most help with,” you sassed. “Maybe I’ll kick your ass in laser tag or something.”

“Maybe I should beat you in bowling,” Minho retorted.

You hummed, tapping a finger off your chin. “You might be onto something, actually. How about you come up with our next practice date. That’s your homework.”

“Since when is this a class? With homework assignments?” Minho demanded.

“Oh shut it, or I’m making profiles for you on every dating app I know.”

* * * * *

You looked over at Minho, suspicion tugging at you. “So when you said you should beat me at bowling, did you mean it?”

“I’m going to try and win at whatever we do, I’m competitive like that,” Minho said, holding the door open for you.

“No, I mean, are you secretly a professional bowler or something?” you corrected, making your way towards the shoe rental.

Minho chuckled, “I doubt you’ll believe whatever I say.”

You opened your mouth to object, but decided he was right. “You better not be hustling me,” you threatened, slapping cash down on the counter.

“Pay per game or pay per hour?” the attendant asked.

Minho cheekily slid a few bills beside yours. “Best out of three?”

“Insufferable,” you muttered, watching as the attendant took his money instead of yours.

At least Minho looked just as goofy as you did. The brightly colored bowling shoes looked very out of place against his “cool guy” outfit. You’d already poked fun at him. Who showed up to a date wearing sweats? Not that he looked bad in them, but you had at least dressed up a bit. Then again, you might not have worn a dress if you had known that bowling was on the agenda. You tugged at the sleeves of your sweater dress, feeling a bit out of place as you looked at all of the other couples. Jeans, slacks, more jeans...why had you decided to dress up? You should’ve known Minho would pick something casual.

“Hey, you wanna go first, or should I?” Minho’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you shook the negativity away gratefully.

“You go ahead,” you called over to him, trying to find a smile. What were you so worked up about? It’s not like this was a real date. You could have shown up in a potato sack if you wanted, you weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all Minho. On that thought, maybe he had the better idea after all. You eyed his sweatpants enviously. You knew how comfy they were, and they’d doubtless be better than the tights you were terrified of ripping.

“Ok sweetheart, prepare for a thrashing,” Minho joked, selecting a bowling ball from the rack.

“You prepare for a thrashing,” you countered, despite knowing it was an empty threat. You probably needed the bumpers if you wanted anything but gutter balls. Then you caught sight of the names on the board. “Did you seriously make my nickname ‘Loser’? What are we, five?”

Minho smirked as he passed you. “We’ve been over this, I’m a grandpa, you’ve got one foot in the grave. Childish antics are beneath us,” he said with a laugh.

“So you’re ‘Lee Know’?” you inquired, curious about his chosen nickname.

Minho turned to face you, tilting his head. “Yeah, that’s what my friends call me.”

“...Am I supposed to call you that?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Call me whatever you want. Just not ‘asshole’,” he joked. Your heart warmed, and a true smile found its way to your lips. You watched as Minho wiggled a little, eyeing the pins at the end of the lane. Then, to your utmost surprise, he turned around and rolled the ball between his legs.

“What?” you choked on a laugh, nearly falling over at the sight. Minho backed up, and you both watched as the ball rolled down the lane, painfully slow. It ended up knocking down half of the pins, much to your surprise. Minho just looked proud as he picked up another ball. Miracle of miracles, he wound up with a spare.

You had no words, didn’t even bother trying to explain how his technique had any sort of success. Your own attempt was...pitiful by comparison. Your form looked good, but both balls wound up in the gutter in a matter of seconds.

Minho didn’t waste the opportunity to gloat. “Told you I’d beat you at bowling,” he said with a wink.

You grumbled, flopping down onto the bench next to him. “I didn’t expect you to be successful at the toddler technique.”

“Give it a go, maybe we’ll change your nickname if you win,” he laughed, getting up for his turn.

Halfway through the game, you even tried the ‘toddler technique’. This was also a fail, made worse with the mortifying realization that your underwear would be visible if you bent over too far. When your attempt ended up in the gutter, you resolved to get bumpers for the next game.

But Minho had other plans. You had just approached the lane when you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Keep your wrist straight, you keep twisting it at the last second,” he said.

You turned to face him, finding him close behind you. “Anything else, wise one?”

“Don’t overthink it,” he smiled at you. This close, you could swear his eyes were twinkling. “We can both go get bumpers next round, I need them almost as much as you. I’m amazed at my own streak of luck tonight.”

“I’m terrible at bowling,” you whined, looking away from him. Your cheeks felt warm. Gosh, it was embarrassing to be this bad.

“We can go do something else, we don’t even need to finish this game, let alone all three. As long as you’re having fun, I’m happy.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but looked away quickly. He was watching you so intently, the flush burned hotter, threatening to run down your neck. “I’m sorry you paid for so many games. We can definitely finish them, it’s fine—”

“I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do,” Minho murmured. You looked at him in surprise, surprised to hear him sounding sincere rather than snarky. “Otherwise, I’d be a shitty friend, wouldn’t I?”

“Right, yeah. An asshole friend,” you agreed, nearly stumbling over the words.

“Ok, I’ll let you focus on your first strike of the night. Don’t overthink it,” he reminded you, walking back to the bench.

You nodded, ignoring the tight feeling in your stomach that reminded you of disappointment. And you sank another one right into the gutter.

Minho’s solution to the bowling fiasco was consolation ice cream. Somewhat surprising, since a part of you had expected him to gloat. Instead, he talked about anything and everything but bowling, entertaining you while you both sat at the window of the local shop. You simply watched him, enraptured. He had hardly opened up at all to you at first. Visiting his apartment felt like the first peek into the real Minho. The happy memories captured in picture frames, the handmade mementos here and there on shelves, all hints as to the soft interior of your once-prickly friend. Now he was regaling you with stories of his best friends—brothers, by the sound of it. Loving rivalry, playful banter, sibling torment. And the look on his face...pride. He was proud of them, his family.

Then you paused, tilted your head to look at him anew. When had Minho stopped being prickly? Where was the cynical, negative, angsty boy you’d befriended, partly out of spite? When had he stopped trying to hold you back with barbed wire edges?

When Minho caught your gaze, he lifted one brow, mouth twitching into a crooked smile. “See something you like?” he sassed you. But his remark was devoid of bitterness. It wasn’t mocking, it was warm, inviting. It was asking you to join in on the joke.

“Yeah,” you said softly. Then you turned up the wattage on your smile, grinning widely at him. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Minho rolled his eyes at your antics, spinning his ice cream cone between his fingers. But hidden behind your grin was more than a little truth.

* * * * *

You knocked on the door, stepping back tentatively. You could hear raucous laughter on the other side, which would ordinarily have you curious, maybe a little excited to join in. Not tonight. Right now, standing in the hallway outside Minho’s apartment, you were nervous as hell. And on top of it all, you were nearly an hour late, having dragged your feet the whole way there.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, shifting from foot to foot. It felt like meeting the parents, which was dumb. Firstly, you and Minho were not dating. Secondly, these were his best friends, not his parents. And thirdly, you and Minho were good friends. You had nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing.

Which was why you were currently worrying all over the place about meeting Minho’s best friends. What if they hated you? Or worse, what if they pitied you? You thought you’d disappear into a crack in the earth if that happened.

Before you could spend too long contemplating your inevitable end, the door swung open, and a boy came rushing out at you. You gasped, jumping back before he could run into you.

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me!” he blurted, skidding to a stop, then immediately taking off running down the hallway.

You blinked in confusion, but your eyes only widened when a second boy came barrelling out of the apartment after the first. “Minho?”

Minho paused briefly, eyes alighting on your stiff figure. “Hi! Um, I need to take care of something, but I’ll be right back. Go on in,” he waved at you, breaking into a jog, and then a sprint.

Immensely confused, you peered into the apartment, now that the door was wide open. Now or never, you told yourself firmly. Easing through the doorway, you caught sight of six more boys in various states of chaos. Upon noticing your entrance, they all froze. “Uh, hello there,” came a voice on your right. You looked over to see two boys in the kitchen, appearing to be mid-struggle with a bag of popcorn. “You must be Minho’s friend, he said you’d be coming.”

You gave a tiny wave, pasting on a sunshine smile. “Hi guys, it’s nice to meet you, I think? Should I be concerned about the escapee?”

Popcorn boy number two laughed, arms bulging as he ripped open the bag. “Oh no, Hyunjin will be fine. Minho hasn’t made him eat toilet paper in years, he’s above that now.” You must have looked concerned, because the boy chuckled again, waving you off. “It’s all empty threats with that one. Mostly. I’m Changbin, by the way.”

Popcorn boy number one stepped forward, extending a hand to shake. “I’m Chan, and this is our menagerie of chaos. Let me introduce you to everyone,” he offered. You grinned at him, relieved.

By the time Minho returned, practically dragging Hyunjin with him, you were giggling on the couch with the rest of the boys, embroiled in a fierce MarioKart race. With Hyunjin still trapped in a headlock, Minho paused to watch. You just barely caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, too focused on staying on the track. Jeongin had chosen Rainbow Road for your first match, and you were determined to crush them in the dust. Even if it had been several years since you last played.

You watched as your character was knocked off the edge, a cry of dismay falling from your lips. “Dang it, I wasn’t even in first place, what gives?”

Han grinned victoriously, only to cry out when he accidentally drove over the edge as well. “Friends fall together?” he joked.

“You made me go ziplining. Alone,” Minho said, announcing his presence at last.

“Uhhhh,” Han fumbled for an excuse. “You love me anyway, though, right?”

Before Minho could retort, Seungmin stood up. “You can play next, if you want,” he offered.

The rest of you blinked at him in surprise, before looking at his screen and realizing he’d already won the race. Jeongin groaned dramatically, flailing on the couch as he came in second. You and Han just gave up entirely, letting your characters fall off the track once more. Meanwhile, Minho finally decided to release Hyunjin, and the blonde escaped to the other end of the couch, diving into a bowl of chips like nothing had happened.

Felix looked excited, so you tossed him your remote for the next round. “I believe I was promised food,” you said, arching an eyebrow in Minho’s direction.

“I believe I told you to arrive at six,” he fired back, stalking towards you. He finally stopped a foot away, looming over you.

You smirked at him, “What did I tell you on our first date?”

The room went silent, and you froze, realizing your mistake. “You guys are dating and you didn’t tell us?” Han exclaimed, eyes wide.

Your mouth opened and closed, but you couldn’t seem to find any words.

“Oh yeah, real fancy dates, too. We had dinner at the Eiffel tower last week,” Minho drawled. “Isn’t that right, sugar plum?” The cherry on top was when he reached out, lightly pinching your cheek.

A stranger might have mistaken his dry tone for sincerity, but everyone in the room knew Minho’s humor well. Half of the group dissolved into giggles. Changbin rolled his eyes and threw a pillow, but Minho caught it before it could smack into you. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend,” Changbin joked.

“All those promises and no follow through,” Han clucked his tongue in mock-disapproval, then ducked when Minho tossed the pillow at him next.

Your cheeks threatened to catch on fire again. The situation only worsened when you met Minho’s dark gaze, his eyes ensnaring you. “So,” you threw out desperately, clapping your hands together. “The food? Or am I going to starve? Not very boyfriend-like,” you tried to laugh. The joke must have been convincing, because the boys merely chuckled, going back to their game.

Minho still hadn’t moved from where he stood over you. Instead of moving back so you could get up, he extended a hand. You bit your lip, teeth digging in, but you placed your hand in his rather than make a scene. The last thing you wanted was more attention, especially with your cheeks warming up past their usual temperature.

Fortunately, he released you as soon as you regained your footing. Your fingers flexed lightly, hand falling back to your side. You kept your chin high as you followed Minho to the kitchen, ignoring the prickling feeling that the boys were still watching you.

“Pizza?” you blurted out, incredulous. “Don’t you eat anything else?”

Minho snorted, leaning against the counter. “For the record, I do know how to cook.”

You snooped in the fridge, disbelieving. “Of course, all evidence points to you being a five star chef,” you said, casting a pointed look at the empty shelves within.

He chuckled, folding his arms while he watched you investigate. “Sweetheart, if you wanted me to cook for you, all you had to do was ask.”

You hummed, closing the refrigerator once more. “I’m kinda afraid you’ll burn something, to be honest,” you teased, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and selecting a slice of now-cold pizza. You popped the pizza in the microwave, then relaxed against the counter opposite Minho. He was still watching you intently, and you frowned. “What? Do I have something on my face?” you asked him.

Minho shook his head wordlessly. Self-consciousness took hold, and you looked down awkwardly, brushing your hair behind one ear. “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said. I totally didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“I know,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half smile.

You tipped your chin again, unable to look at him for long. Even if Minho seemed to forgive your blunder, you still couldn’t believe you’d blurted that out. Your hair fell in front of your face again, and you let it, happy to hide behind the locks.

Then another pair of feet appeared a few inches from yours. Plain black socks next to your patterned ones, covered in cartoon rainbows. Then a butterfly touch along the side of your face, soft enough that you almost doubted the sensation. You lifted your gaze, but this time, Minho’s eyes weren’t on yours. Instead, his laser focus was directed on the hair he was gently situating behind your ear again.

You realized you had forgotten to breathe when he finally took a step back, and your lungs remembered to inflate.

“For the record, you’re right,” Minho said softly. “The queen is never late.”

* * * * *

It was nearing midnight by the time Minho’s friends started leaving. You eyed the clock, then went to grab your shoes as well. “I better get going, I want to get home sometime before dawn,” you joked.

“How close do you live? Are you taking the bus?” Chan asked, worry evident in his tone.

You waved him off, “I’m just a few blocks away, not too long of a walk. Bus doesn’t run after ten or so, anyway.”

Chan frowned, but Minho cut him off before he could say anything. “I was going to walk her home, it’s pretty late.”

That was a surprise to you, but seemed to alleviate Chan’s concern. The others waved goodbye on their way out, Chan following them. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shooting you a quick grin before closing the door behind him.

“You really don’t have to,” you started.

“I want to. It’s late,” Minho reminded you.

“I didn’t argue last time, but I didn’t want to steal your umbrella.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not some little girl in need of protection. It’s a perfectly safe neighborhood.”

Minho didn’t look up, busy tying his shoes. “I like walking.”

“At midnight?”

“Any time of day, really.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you walk Jeongin home, too?”

“Sure did. He moved in with Han, though, so I don’t anymore,” he said simply. “You don’t have a roommate. If no one’s there to make sure you get home safe, I want to walk with you.”

You gaped at him, unable to fault his logic. And not really wanting to. “Thanks,” you murmured, scuffing one shoe into the floor.

Minho stood up again, a crooked smile on his lips. “Don’t mention it,” he said, snagging his keys. “After you.”

Walking home with Minho, you were reminded of the first time. Then, you’d been so awkward, quiet. Unsure of yourself. You’d been worried that you were some kind of pity friend at first, but after getting to know Minho, you knew that wasn’t the case. And now that you’d grown comfortable around each other, you could hardly get him to shut up. Even now, he was talking about his dance team’s newest choreo, his words running together from excitement.

You smiled, just listening. This was all you really wanted, if you let yourself admit it. The Tinder dates were just a shit attempt at finding someone to sit and listen to for hours. You wanted movie nights and quiet mornings with someone who cared about you. You wanted a cute little house and kids and a dog. Maybe a cat. Maybe three.

Shit.

You were so wrapped up in your realization that you didn’t realize you’d reached your apartment building until Minho snagged your elbow to pull you to a stop. “This isn’t a midnight hike, where do you think you’re going?” he asked incredulously.

You laughed nervously, “Oh, sorry, I was pretty lost in thought.”

“Apparently. Were you listening to a word I said? Some friend you are,” he snorted.

Friend. Right. Your realization didn’t mean much. Why were you surprised? You hadn’t had luck in the romantic department in years, why would that change now? Minho was your friend, and it was obvious that his opinion of you wasn’t going to change. Why would it? He was way out of your league.

Gosh, now you felt like a fool. You’d really just daydreamed about a happily ever after with him. Why did you ever bother getting your hopes up? You were always bound for disappointment. Hadn’t your crappy dates taught you anything?

Minho called your name, bringing you back down to reality. “Sorry,” you muttered, fumbling in your bag to find your keys.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Shoot, now he sounded concerned.

You pasted a sunny smile on your face, “Totally fine. Thank you for walking me back. I won’t keep you any longer.”

You turned away to walk up the steps, but the smile fell as soon as he was out of sight. How were you only just coming to the realization that you were halfway—or perhaps all the way—in love with him? His face was burned into your mind’s eye. Brows furrowed in confusion, slight pout, and those damned eyes. You’d probably been in love with his eyes from the beginning.

“I only agreed to let you play matchmaker so I could see you again.”

You stopped at the top of the steps, not quite believing your ears. Turning slightly, you looked at Minho over your shoulder.

Once he had your attention, he continued, “I bailed on the date with your friend because I knew you’d yell at me.”

Lips parting in surprise, you turned to face him fully. Minho put a foot on the first step, gaze locked on yours. You weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but his mouth softened into a slight smile.

“I was going to do the classic move of teaching you to bowl, but I chickened out,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t.”

“What are you...why are you telling me this?” you asked, fingers curling nervously.

He ascended another step, “You only smile like that when you’re sad. When you start getting in your own head about what you deserve.” Another step, “And I’m tired of hiding.”

Now he was only two steps away. Close enough to touch, if you dared to reach out. You didn’t. “We’re friends,” you said, voice small.

“Yeah, we are,” he agreed. Then he bit his lip, drawing your attention like bees to honey. You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes firmly. When you opened them, Minho was on the step just below you. “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low. You didn’t.

Your breath stuttered to a stop, your whole body stilling at the electric shock of his lips on yours. For a moment, you were frozen, utterly focused on the whisper of a touch. Then Minho pulled away, and you could breathe again, gasping for air. But you didn’t want it to be over. Your eyes fluttered open, finding his dark gaze melting into you.

This time, you let yourself fall into him, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that said this was a fantasy. He caught you, one arm wrapping around your waist, his other hand coming to your jawline. He ascended that final step, pulling your body into his. His lips were plush, a little dry. Real. Minho was here, warm under your fingertips.

His hand slid up into your hair, slowly enough to make you shiver. You sighed into the kiss, goosebumps appearing on your arms as his fingers gently tugged the strands. And then his mouth opened beneath you, and you let yourself tumble into sensation, drowning in him.

You don’t know how long you kissed, but your heart was racing when you finally came up for air. Minho panted, little breaths puffing against your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, the weight somehow grounding you.

“Do you understand now?” Minho’s voice was hoarse, deeper than before. You shivered, just a bit, and the corner of his lips twitched up.

You couldn’t find words, unable to string any coherent thoughts together. And you didn’t really want to, happy to have your mind all to yourself, no doubts in sight. You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on the tip of Minho’s nose. He scrunched his face up, making you giggle. But you needed to know one thing. “Are we—are things different now?”

“We’re dating. Unless you don’t want that,” he backtracked, eyes wide.

You grinned at him. “I do.”

He heaved out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I thought I really fucked up there.”

Now you really laughed, head falling forward to rest on his chest. Minho’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer than you thought was possible. You could hear his heartbeat, thudding just as fast as yours.

“You said the friendship was your favorite part of love,” Minho mused. You hummed in agreement, nodding against him. “Well I hope you don’t get sick of me. I hear I’m pretty annoying.”

“Minho,” you rolled your eyes.

“I know you just rolled your eyes at me,” he teased.

“Well, you are annoying. But I suppose it’s a part of your charm.”

He chuckled, “So that means you like my jokes?”

You smiled fondly, “Don’t push it.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

#skz fanfic #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #lee know #skz minho #skz lee know #skz imagines #skz scenarios #lee know scenarios #skz minho x reader #minho x reader #lee know fic #skz fic #skz one shot

268 notes · View notes

joontier · 3 years ago

Text

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiv

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: none to note

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

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Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

“Do you really have to leave me?” you drag the words out as you chew your dinner, one you insisted on having inside Ayoung’s apartment on her last day. You even add a cute little pout afterwards, hoping that Ayoung might reconsider her moving last minute.

“_________, that was literally the third time you asked me tonight. One more and I think I might change my mind.”

You sit up straighter, an expectant look on your face. “Really?”

“I’m afraid not, __________. I’m even surprised you kept asking when you literally helped me pack the last of my stuff. Shouldn’t you have been doing the opposite if you wanted me to stay?”

You let out a rather unattractive burp and a pretty loud one at that, then you sigh again for the nth time tonight, knowing it’s going to be a while before you find another neighbor that is as unbothered by your poor table etiquette as Ayoung.

Speaking of neighbors, a coworker’s face pops into your mind and you’re suddenly reminded of your embarrassing encounter with Jungkook just the other day in the very corridor just a door away from where you were seated. “By the way...that guy you brought over the other day…”

“Oh him?”

You brace yourself for the bad news, tilting your head towards Ayoung while you wait for her response. “Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be moving in anytime soon.”

“Oh,” comes your reply, shockingly nonchalant enough to mask the joy of not having Jungkook as your neighbor. Giddy, you prod her on, wanting to hear the rest of the story. “Shame though, he was such a hottie.”

“How did you even meet him in the first place?”

“Just last week I went to a cafe to study and partly cure a hangover from the previous night, I checked the post I uploaded for new possible tenants and Jungkook...that’s his name by the way...he was one of the first who sent a message about wanting to see the apartment in person, so we agreed to meet up on a later date.” Ayoung pauses for a moment, stacking a box on top of another.

“But just a few moments later while I was reading, this boy came up to me and asked if I was...well me and he told me he was Jungkook. Eventually, he asked if I was free because he mentioned that he had nothing else to do that day and he would’ve appreciated it if he got to see the place and have a drink at the same time.”

There’s a funny look on her face and you raise a brow questioningly. “Have you ever seen a man more attractive in just sweats?” Oh Christ.

“I mean, most guys would look like a hobo in those, plus he’s probably dumb for just walking around in sweats with only 25 degrees outside but damn.... You know only truly hot men can pull off looks like that. And he surely was packing.” Shocked to the core, you stare at her with your mouth hanging open, not wanting to believe all of these were coming from your sweet sweet Ayoung. Especially not when they’re about Jungkook.

“So I thought, why not right? I guess the hot chocolate I made wasn’t the only thing that was warm that night…” A suggestive smirk graces her lips and you scoot farther away from her, absolutely scandalized.

Much to your chagrin, your mind betrays you with rather raunchy images. Goosebumps line the skin on your arms as the embarrassment comes back to you in waves. “Gosh Jungkook, that little fucker.”

Ayoung creases her brows. “You know Jungkook?”

Crap. Ayoung wasn’t supposed to end up knowing this.

“Yeah I know him. Sort of.”

“Oh, too bad. It would have been great if he moved in so you won’t have to deal with a total stranger for a neighbor. Where do you know Jungkook from?”

You contemplate for a moment, wanting to weigh if it would be of any benefit having to tell the story of how you met Jungkook. Ultimately, you ended up sharing a brief background, missing out on a few vital points aka Jungkook being a total prick.

You help Ayoung bring down the rest of her stuff to the lobby, wanting to see her off. “I wanted to bring you to your new apartment but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, and being late won’t be a good record this early in my job.”

“It’s alright, silly.” Ayoung leans in for a hug. “We’ll see each other again soon, yeah?”

“You’re making it sound like I’m moving overseas, stop it!”

You wait until she gets inside the cab she booked, waving at the car’s rear until it fully disappears from your sight.

The next day you wake up freezing your ass off, even with you wrapped in a duvet burrito. You take a peek outside your window, grunting as a blanket of snow envelops everything in sight. Everything is white, and the gray trails on the road are the only thing that distinguishes the street from the sidewalk.

You do your morning routine fairly quickly, spending the rest of your spare time watching people outside your window while you finish your coffee. As a motorbike moves along the length of the street in front of your building, you silently wish the driver a safe trip, hoping he or she didn’t have to use such a vehicle in this weather.

You take another sip and Jimin instantly enters your scrambled thoughts, remembering how he mentioned he uses a scooter to and from work. There’s a side of you that is assured the Jimin is responsible enough to know how risky it is to use a scooter during the winter.

The other half of your brain, though, isn’t convinced. Quickly, you set your mug aside, replacing it with your phone and dialing Jimin’s number. He answers after three rings. “_________?”

“Hey Jimin, I know it’s too early for me to be calling you but I was wondering if you were going to use your scooter on your way to work today?”

“I was--”

“Because if you were planning to, don’t. It’s snowing really hard outside and I’m worried you’ll be taking your friend’s scooter on the slippery road….Would you mind if I’ll offer you a ride?”

You know you were risking a lot, with your own car - your very own Camry which you don’t even trust. It has aged gracefully, and was clearly nearing its end but you knew four wheels was better than two in this snow.

“I don’t...but I also wouldn’t want you to come all the way here to pick me up when I can just take the subway? Or the bus maybe…”

“Would you rather pick one that asks for a fare or a free ride?”

“You’re not exactly giving me a choice here, _________.”

“Great! ‘Cause I’m already on my way to pick you up.”

“Thank you for the ride, sunbaenim.” Jungkook pulls on the handbrake before setting his hands on the Porsche’s steering wheel for the last time.

‘Someday’, he says to himself, someday he’ll get a car of his own. Someday.

“Thank you for also letting me drive your car…”

“She’s a beaut isn’t she?” the younger doctor nods, wanting to rub his palms over the dashboard in fascination, but then he wouldn’t have wanted the senior resident to think he was some sort of lunatic.

Jungkook decides to keep his hands on his lap instead.

“You live around the area?”

“Yeah, just a few blocks from the garage…”

“Really? Which apartment do you live in? I’m quite familiar with the area.”

Jungkook is hesitant to mention the name of the building knowing that the apartment complex he stays at most likely has a reputation because it’s the cheapest he could find around the area.

Before the intern opens his mouth to reply, Seokjin’s phone rings just on time, the sound startling the latter. He opens the car door and alights from the vehicle to get more reception. Jungkook grabs his bag from the back and follows after shortly. Seokjin points to his phone, mouthing that Jungkook doesn’t need to wait for him, so the intern bows to his senior in gratitude, before heading off to the main building.

As he passes a vending machine, he remembers he wasn’t able to bring his jug with him today so he approaches the machine, scanning other options he could take with his water. He comes across a small carton of banana milk and a thought crosses his mind, a smirk playing on his lips as he adds the beverage to his purchase.

Jungkook hurries to the on-call room, hoping his tiny plan will fall into place.

“Thanks for the ride, ________. I owe you so much already. You’re too kind.”

You wave Jimin off, expressing your worry and how you thought you wouldn’t be able to handle your conscience if you didn’t ask about his mode of transportation to work today. Jimin gives you a warm smile in return.

“You’re a good friend, _________.” Jimin leans over the center console and gives you an awkward side hug, catching you completely off guard.

“Woops! Sorry! I didn’t… wasn’t…” Jimin has his hands waving around in the air as he tries to apologize for hugging you out of the blue. “It’s fine, Jimin,” you laugh as you put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Tilting your head outside, you tell him that you both should get going and that you’ll be heading to the toilet first to get changed. While Jimin heads to the surgery department, you make your way to the parking lot’s toilets, bumping into the one and only banana-milk-thief Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi _________, good morning!” He chirps, the uncharacteristically wide smile on his face throwing you off for a moment.

At least somebody woke up on the right side of the bed today. Jungkook chuckles, and you realize you weren’t supposed to say that out loud, but you’re somewhat proud that you did, making your sentiments towards the guy as clear as day.

“Bit rich coming from you miss grumpypants.”

Your mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, darling. See ya later....grumpy.” Before Jungkook leaves, he manages to give you a quick noogie, definitely messing up what’s left of the quick messy bun you made before leaving your apartment.

Taking in a deep, long breath, you calm your nerves down, deciding today wasn’t going to be the day Jungkook was gonna get to you.

After your brief encounter at the parking lot, Jungkook heads quickly to the on-call room and looks for a place inconspicuous but visible enough for you to see. He plucks a sticky note from a stack from the shelf just above the table and grabs his pen from his chest pocket.

Jungkook folds the yellow square into half and writes your name on it, just in case nobody would dare take a carton of milk for someone named after a dwarf from Snow White. He then sticks the note on the moist packaging, hopeful that the slight sheen of water will help stick the paper onto the carton.

Recognizing Jimin’s voice from the door, Jungkook quickly hides his peace offering behind the files on the table, and pretends he’s reading the patient’s charts before Jimin nears where he’s standing. You and Soomin enter the room shortly afterwards.

“Just in time!” Namjoon says, adjusting the large frame of his glasses. “Right, as you may already know from the orientation, I’m Kim Namjoon, resident, and specializing in neuro. I’ll be guiding you all throughout admissions and reports this morning while I am waiting for my Chiari decompression scheduled in a few hours.”

Namjoon gathers the rest of the surgical interns before proceeding to the wards to do rounds with the group. He partners with the head nurse and another doctor from the night shift, updating the patient’s condition before moving on to the others.

As soon as his rounds are done, he leads the group back to the on-call room to brief the interns on using the EMR system to keep a patient’s chart updated at all times. To speed up the charting, he asks everyone to come up in pairs and update the patient records.

True to the plan he’d come up with at the spur of the moment, Namjoon and the interns manage to get the job done quicker than expected. With the night shift’s updates already uploaded, the group disperses to carry out the orders and responsibilities.

Jimin, with his throat parched after having come up and down multiple flights of stairs, decides to return to the on-call room to get something to drink. He breathlessly pages Jungkook about it, telling him he’ll get back to his partner after drinking.

He no longer waits for Jungkook’s okay, too thirsty to even think straight. As Jimin goes through his stuff, he realizes he must have forgotten his jug inside your car but having to call you about it would have been too bothersome for you and him both.

There’s a water dispenser in the room but there are no cups or mugs free for him to use - and too unsanitary as well. Jimin searches the room in desperation and spots a carton of banana milk just behind some of the patient’s charts.

He makes a grab for the small carton, checking if it’s got any owner. There’s none written on the carton and no note stuck to it to indicate that it belongs to someone. He spots Yoongi on his phone just by the other corner of the room and approaches the senior resident.

“Excuse me, sunbaenim. Is this yours?” He points to the carton in his hands. Yoongi shakes his head no. “Any name written on it? Some note perhaps?”

“I couldn't find any.”

“Well, it’s yours then. All food on the table is communal unless it’s otherwise labeled.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders as he explains, giving Jimin a thumbs up afterwards.

“Alright. Thanks sunbaenim.”

Throat as dry as the Sahara, Jimin grabs the drink and punches the straw in as quickly as he could before finishing the drink in a few gulps. ‘Thank god for free banana milk.’ He thinks to himself before throwing the packaging away, now more energized than ever.

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #doctors au

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years ago

Text

The Criminal

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Word Count: 1,528

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A follow-up drabble to my Brooklyn 99 drabble entitled The Suspenders. AKA we finally find out who Taehyung is in this BTS/B99 themed fic-verse.

[ PART OF MY JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY DRABBLE GAME ]

Slamming open the door to the observation room, Jungkook quickly ran in and came to a stop. Chest heaving, he scanned the walls before locating the glass panel which separated them from the next room.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “Taehyung,” he seethed.

On the other side of glass, dingily lit by fluorescent lighting and crammed into a chair much too small for his body, was Jungkook’s arch nemesis – the wily, cunning and morally ambivalent Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung wore a black hoodie and jeans, his hair artfully styled and pushed behind ears slightly too big for his frame. He didn’t look like a prodigious car thief per se, except for the continual tapping of fingers on jeans. Kim Taehyung wasn’t the type of guy who often sat still.

Leaning forward, Jungkook pressed the talk button.

“Kim Taehyung,” he growled.

Suddenly beaming, Taehyung’s head jerked up from his chest. “Jungkook – is that you?” Affable as ever, he shook his head. “What am I saying? Of course it’s you. I’d know that sweet, falsetto voice anywhere. Come on in, JK and give me a hug!”

When Taehyung tried to move, he was jerked back by his cuffs until his head hit the seatrest. Wincing a little, his smile remained large.

“You’re in handcuffs for a reason, Taehyung,” Jungkook said sternly. “Maybe I fell for that line once before–”

You gave him a pointed look.

“Alright, twice,” Jungkook admitted, a flush rising to his cheeks. “So, there’s not going to be a third time!”

Leaning forward as far as he could, Taehyung gave the two-way glass his best puppy-dog eyed look. You arched a brow beside Jungkook because, frankly, the look was a good one.

Ignoring Taehyung, Jungkook turned to face you instead. “Alright.” He removed his hand from the button. “What’s he in for this time?”

“The usual,” you said, handing over a binder. “Cops caught him running from a crime scene on 11th. Taehyung keeps saying he didn’t do it, but his fingerprints are all over the scene.”

“I didn’t do it, JK!” Taehyung yelled from the next room. “If that delicious detective you’re dating just handed you a binder and said I’m a criminal, don’t believe her!”

Your jaw immediately dropped. “How does he know we’re dating?” you demanded, glaring at Jungkook.

“I… um…” Jungkook reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. The action inadvertently flexed his bicep, which you tried – and failed – to ignore. “I maybe posted about it on Facebook and Taehyung maybe sent us congratulations?”

“Jungkook!”

“What?” Jungkook said, somewhat defensive. “It’s not like I can just control who I’m friends with on Facebook.”

“That’s literally all you can do on Facebook.”

“Oh, yeah – I guess you’re right.” Jungkook flashed you a hopeful smile. “Alright, so this one’s my bad.”

Heaving a small sigh, you bent forward and pressed the talk button.

“I do have a name, Kim,” you said.

“Damn straight you do, Y/N.” Taehyung’s grin widened. “And a damn good one at that. Did your parents name you after Y/N Korakova, the famous botanist? Pioneered the modern greenhouse, but that’s not the point. I was just trying to figure out who I’m talking to. Is Jimin here yet?”

As though on cue, Jimin burst into the room holding two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. He frowned when he saw Jungkook empty-handed, rushing over to give him one of his steaming mugs.

“Jungkook.” Jimin shook of his head. “You ran off so fast when Y/N called, you completely missed your chance to try my new concoction – hot chocolate with ox’s milk!”

Jungkook, who’d been eagerly reaching at the sound of hot chocolate, immediately recoiled.

“I – what milk?”

“Uh, yeah.” This was from Taehyung, who’d heard everything through the mic. Wincing, you removed your hand from the talk button. “I’m supportive of anyone who loves my best friend, JK, but that sounds nasty.”

Scowling, Jimin turned towards the window. “Number one – I’m Jungkook’s best friend. Number two, this doesn’t concern you, Kim!”

Taehyung cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t hear any of that, man – Y/N must’ve taken her hand off the talk button – but if you’re saying you believe in my total innocence – thanks, Jimin! I always knew you’d be on my side.”

Still beaming, he settled back in his seat.

“He’s not innocent, though,” you said as Jungkook opened the binder. “There’s so much evidence pointing to Kim as the culprit. His fingerprints are all over the interior of the car, he was caught fleeing the scene and there are two witnesses who swear they saw him hotwire the vehicle.”

Jungkook frowned, flipping through pages. The more he read, the deeper his frown got – you were right. There was a lot of evidence pointing towards Kim Taehyung. This, frankly, didn’t make any sense.

Taehyung wasn’t a sloppy criminal. He was the damn Pontiac bandit, a criminal who’d escaped Jungkook’s clutches many times and whom Jungkook had been unable to identify for years. It wasn’t like him to leave so much evidence.

Leaning forward, Jungkook slowly pushed the talk button. “Kim,” he said, looking troubled. “Two people swear they saw you hotwire the car.”

“They’re lying! Someone must have them on their payroll.”

“Right.” Jungkook paused. “And the explanation for your prints being all over the car?”

“Okay, so I was in the car, but I didn’t hotwire it!” Taehyung gave the two-way mirror a pleading expression. “An old buddy called and said he needed help, so I got in his car to talk. That’s when I noticed one of Banson’s henchmen in his side mirror.”

“Wait – Rico Banson?” you said, eyes wide. “As in, the drug lord Rico Banson?”

“That’s the one.” For the first time today, Taehyung’s smile faltered. “As it turns out I, uh... may have slept with his ex-girlfriend.”

Slowly, Jungkook lowered his head. “Shit, Kim.”

Guys like Rico Banson didn’t mess around when you went after their women. They tended to shoot first and ask questions later. Taehyung probably knew this already, but he was in some deep shit. Jungkook couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy.

“I didn’t know she dated him!” Taehyung protested. “We only hooked up once, but I guess he’s had it in for me ever since. I swear on the soul of my mom, I’m being set up.”

Jungkook’s head jerked upwards. “He’s telling the truth,” he said immediately. “Taehyung would never swear on the soul of his mom as a lie. Mrs. Kim is a very nice lady.”

Removing your hand from the talk button, you glanced dubiously at your boyfriend. “I don’t know,” you said slowly. “Can we really trust the word Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes,” Jungkook said immediately.

Rolling your eyes, you looked at Jimin. “What do you think?”

“I’m torn.” Jimin chewed his lower lip. “On the one hand, I support Jungkook in everything he does and on the other hand, Kim Taehyung is a low-life criminal who continually undermines my best friendship with Jungkook.”

“Neither of those things are relevant,” you said.

“Taehyung isn’t a criminal anymore – he turned his life around!” protested Jungkook.

“I have!” agreed Taehyung, from behind the glass.

Everyone glanced at him in surprise.

His grin widened. “The fact that I’m getting no response must mean my random exclamation was timely.”

After another moment of silence, you cleared your throat. “Anyways,” you said, returning to the rest. “Everything points to Kim as the culprit, Jeon. Do you seriously think he’s telling the truth? I know you’re weirdly friendly with him, but…”

“Not that friendly,” Jimin interjected with a pout.

“Listen.” Jungkook set down the binder. “Have you ever known Kim Taehyung to be sloppy?”

“No,” you admitted. “Usually, he’s one step ahead of us.”

“And if he is telling the truth. How great would it be to finally have new intel on Rico Banson? He’s been off the grid for nearly a year now.”

“Really great,” Jimin said.

“Exactly.” Jungkook looked thoughtfully at Kim Taehyung. “I might regret saying this, but–”

“You want to drink the ox milk?”

“No, Jimin.” Jungkook narrowed his gaze. “I think... we should trust Kim Taehyung.”

Silence fell between them, with each person weighing the options and coming to the same conclusion. Banson’s name sealed the deal. The precinct hadn’t gotten new information on Banson in months and many regarded him as the lynchpin in his crime organization.

Shifting in his seat, Taehyung crossed a leg. “Damn straight you should listen to Yoongi,” he said with a nod.

Leaning forward, Jungkook pressed the talk button again. “No luck, bud,” he said. “Yoongi isn’t in the room.”

“Damn.” Taehyung frowned. “Oh, well. Good thing we’ve got the entire length of the case to work on our banter. Dream team!”

“Dream team!” Jungkook cheered before you reached out and removed his hand from the button.

“So.” Jimin glanced between you. “Does this mean no one wants this hot ox-late?”

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook drabble

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flyingkiki · 3 years ago

Text

A Very Merry Christmas (3/4)

A little bit more excitement and a whole lot of steamy escapades for our favorite bbs. As promised, 2021 is a year of smut and steam for our favorite birbs.

Check out chapter 2 of A Very Merry Christmas to refresh your steam tank. We know Tim a little dirty boi behind closed doors -- or in abandoned tree houses.

In today's episode, that bathtub looks perfect for some luxurious steamy action.

~~~

Titus, much to Raven’s surprise had taken a great liking in her. Over the course of her stay, the Great Dane was practically glued to her side, following her everywhere. While endearing, it proved to be quite a challenge during movie nights once Raven quickly realized that despite his size, Titus believed he was a lap dog.

“Titus!” Tim whined when the dog’s tail smacked him across the cheek one evening while the whole family settled down to watch The Nightmare before Christmas. As Raven settled down next to Tim on the couch, Titus climbed up on Tim’s other side and clumsily clambered over his lap to get to Raven, who stifled a giggle.

“Oh,” Raven breathed as the huge dog settled on her lap, knocking the wind out of her. She felt Titus snout settle into the crook of her neck and his paw dig painfully into her thigh. The dog practically leaned against her and she shot Tim a quick look over Titus’ hulking form. The dog wiggled in her lap, trying to get comfortable. “You’re a big boy,” she breathed.

Tim frowned and tried to nudge the dog off his girlfriend. “You’re suffocating her, Titus.”

Unfazed, Titus yawned and clumsily knocked his face against Raven’s cheek. With a little huff, he licked her left cheek and dropped his chin onto her shoulder.

Raven squeaked softly at the lick and wiggled under Titus, trying to get comfortable. Titus paw dug painfully into her thigh. She leaned into Tim’s shoulder and grabbed his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze signaling her discomfort. “Tim,” she whispered. He had to do something or her illustrious career as a superhero might just end due to suffocating under a 160-pound dog.

Tim sighed and reached around the massive dog to gently nudge Titus off his girlfriend. When the dog whined and sneezed into Raven’s shoulder, Tim rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Dami,” he called the younger boy sitting on the floor next to Dick’s loveseat. “Call Titus, he’s suffocating Raven,”

Damian looked over his shoulder, frowning at the sight of his dog taking more interest in Tim’s girlfriend. “Titus,” he called over the noise of Jack Skellington discovering Christmas. The dog di not even budge and Tim shot him an annoyed glance.

“Looks like Titus has a new favorite human,” Jason commented slily, enjoying getting rise out of his younger brother.

Damian huffed and glared at Jason for even insinuating Titus had a new favorite. Shaking his popcorn bowl, Damian called Titus again. The sound of popcorn in a bowl seemed to have caught his attention. “Titus, come here.” Damian called again just as Dick ‘shhed’ him.

Titus seemed to finally get the message and with a huff into Raven’s neck, he jumped off Raven’s lap (and successfully kneeing her in the process) and trotted towards Damian. With a low whine, he curled up right next to the boy and deposited his head into Damian’s lap.

Titus continued to follow Raven that evening. Tim flat-out refused to have the dog in their bedroom because sex with a dog watching was a terrible idea. Titus was following them the entire morning as they helped Alfred with a new batch of Christmas cookies.

“Titus, time for your walk,” Damian appeared at the entrance of the massive kitchen, already wrapped up in his winter jacket. He jiggled the leash to catch Titus’ attention, which was solely focused on Raven as she bent over the kitchen island pipping lopsided smiles on gingerbread men with Tim and Bruce.

The dog whined and gave Damian a brief glance before turning back to Raven.

“That much sugar cannot be good for you,” commented Tim in amusement after Bruce ate half of a gingerbread man. Their small group remained oblivious to Damian and Titus. It was Bruce’s second cookie that morning and Alfred was not pleased at the depleting cookie count.

“It was missing an arm,” Bruce brushed off the accusation of being a cookie thief. He broke off one of the legs of the cookie. “Here, have the leg.”

Tim looked scandalized. “And be an accessory to your crime, Batman?” he said with wide eyes but still accepted the amputated sugar treat. It was a delicious leg.

“Who knew Bruce Wayne was such a sugar junkie?” Raven commented after drawing yet another lopsided smile (frown?) on a gingerbread man. She stuck a bright purple candy onto her gingerbread man’s neck. That kind of looked better.

“His sugar panel is terrible, Miss Raven,” Alfred appeared next to them sounding totally unimpressed at Bruce’s sugar habit. He glanced at the pile of cookies they had been working on, noting a few that had gone missing. He sighed softly. “Perhaps I may suggest refraining from eating any more cookies, Sir? We’d like to keep the rest for Christmas tomorrow and some for everyone to take home as well,”

“Might not fit into the Batsuit after Christmas, Old Man,” Jason commented from where he was mixing chocolate chip cookies. Cass giggled next to him.

Bruce looked a bit sheepish has he polished off the last of the gingerbread man he stole from the pile. “Right, Alfred.” Raven watched as the man looked amused and she shared a small smile with Tim, who looked happy to spend a little downtime with his adoptive father. Moments like these were rare for Tim. “I shall have a little bit more self-restraint,”

“I’d appreciate that, Sir,” Of course, Alfred did not sound very convinced. Leaving the fresh batch of cookies, he went back to working with Jason on the cookie batter. Raven and Tim chuckled softly in amusement.

“Titus!” Damian called again, this time gaining the attention of everyone in the kitchen. The dog in question raised his head in acknowledgement before lying down again and staring up at Raven.

Bruce looked over the counter and watched the dog in surprise. He looked up at Raven with a hint of amusement. “Looks like Titus has taken a liking in you,” he commented.

“More like a huge dog crush,” Jason added, smirking over this shoulder.

Damian huffed and crossed his arms, frowning at the group. “It’s likely that he senses her demon heritage and keeps watch to protect us,” he said, annoyance laced in his voice.

“Damian!”

“Hey!”

“Rude, you brat!”

Bruce was clearly disappointed and angry while Tim looked furious. Bruce frowned at his son and placed his piping bag on the counter. He crossed his arms in disapproval, an action Damian immediately mimicked. Reindeer apron or not, an angry Bruce Wayne is a scary Bruce Wayne. “Apologize, Damian,”

“Why? She is half-demon,” Damian sniffed and frowned, frustration bubbling low underneath his skin. “I’m sure Titus senses this. And I honestly do not understand how you can allow Drake to –”

“Finish that sentence and I swear I will smack you into next week,” Tim scowled, fist tightening on top of the marbled kitchen island. Raven could feel old emotions surface as the boys glared at each other and she frowned.

“I could help take Titus on a walk with you?” Raven said suddenly, knowing well that Damian was not going to apologize anytime soon. His frustration and resentment were coming off him in waves. She placed her hand on top of Tim’s arm, trying to calm him down.

“I don’t need your help,” Damian bristled.

Raven rolled her eyes at the haughty attitude. Ignoring Damian, she handed Tim her pipping bag and shot him an assuring smile. She removed her apron and placed it on the table, before turning to Damian. She tilted her head and raised her eyebrow in challenge. “Really? Not unless you want to clean up Titus’ pee later, I think you’re stuck with my offer,” she said.

“Raven,” there was a hint of worry and confusion in Tim’s voice. Raven shrugged and leaned up to kiss him on his cheek. “It’s alright,” she whispered and squeezed his forearm reassuringly. She waved off Bruce as he glanced at her.

Turning on her heel, she looked at a fuming Damian, displeased at the idea of being bossed around. “Wait for me at the door, I’ll go get changed,” she said. Ignoring Damian’s protest, she walked out of the kitchen with an eager Titus hot at her heels. Damian stopped out soon thereafter.

Jason blinked; astonishment written all over his face. “Well shit, that took a weird turn,”

Raven met up with Damian at the large front door. The boy was still frowning into his dark blue fluffy scarf when she approached and made no acknowledgement when she stood by him. Titus appeared by her feet, oblivious to the jealousy he had caused. “Ready?” she asked.

Damian sniffed again and silently hooked Titus to his leash and the trio stepped out into the cold. The leash wasn’t really necessary and as they would step further out into the forest, Damian would release Titus from the leash. The dog was trained enough to follow commands.

They were walking silently towards the large frozen lake, keeping close to the edge of the woods for Titus to sniff along and do his business. The silence between them was palpable, Raven could feel Damian’s storm of emotions. She watched as Damian released Titus from his leash and they followed him through the snow as he happily sniffed at snowy bushes and tree trunks.

“There is no need for you to accompany us,” Damian said, voice laced with a frown as he walked ahead of Raven.

Raven stuffed her hands deeper into her winter jacket as a cold breeze passed them. She hurried to keep up with Damian and walked next to him. She shrugged her shoulder dismissively and offered him a small smile. “It’s alright, I don’t mind the company,” she said.

“I do,” Damian frowned. Of course, ever the brusque one.

They stopped as Titus stopped by a bush a little up ahead. They were close to the completely frozen lake, they could see old dock and the outline of a few people walking by the lake from the distance. A few snowflakes started to fall as winter continued with is below zero temperatures. They watched Titus do his business in the snow.

“I’m sorry about this whole ordeal with Titus,” Raven said, glancing at the scowling boy.

Damian spared her glance; eyebrows draw into a perpetual scowl. “He senses the demon in you,” he said.

The corner of her lips quirked just a little bit and there was a bemused look on her face. “Well, I think you’re right about that,” she said. Damian continued to stare at her with a mixture of mild surprise and anger. They heard Titus make snuffling sounds as he buried his nose into the snow. “Some animals are quick to catch on meta-physical psyche,”

“To sense a threat,” Damian supplied.

“Sometimes,” said Raven. She glanced at Damian, sensing a mix of emotions. “They also get attached or curious. I’m pretty sure Titus is just curious after sensing a new presence in the house. He seems to be very loyal to you,”

She could see Damian move and some of the tension leave his face. She offered a small smile at the frowning boy. “I’m hardly a threat,” she added finally, her voice soft in the cold wind.

Damian swallowed and briefly glanced at Titus, who scampered towards him for pets. Looking up at Raven, his frown softened ever so lightly. “I apologize if it sounded like I was implying that,” he mumbled, his voice sounding just a little strained as if apologizing was not something he commonly did.

Raven hummed. “It’s alright. We always try to be protective over the ones we care for,” she said.

Damian cleared his throat. Looking away, he turned his attention back to Titus. It seemed like that conversation was now over. Raven would settle with whatever she could get from the boy.

They continued to watch as Titus enjoyed the snow, sniffing at the bushes and barking at stones. The silence was soon pierced with the sound of a loud crash and something heavy hitting ice and water. Louds screams filled the air.

Raven and Damian straightened, alert. They watched as the wooden docks gave way and parts of it disappeared into the lake. A name rang through the air, and they watched the outlines of two people wave frantically by the shore. Someone had fallen in.

Raven shoved her phone into Damian’s hands as they started with a run towards the lake. “Call Tim and the others. We need to help now,”

Damian scowled. “You’re not going in there. I can –”

Raven stopped and glared at Damian, halting the boy. Her Titan authority suddenly taking over, and she frowned. “They need help. That water is below zero, do as I say, now.”

She barely heard Damian make the call as she sprinted towards the couple, adding a little bit more force into her run. She couldn’t teleport, that would have been a risk to her identity and the rest of the family. She could do this rescue manually.

“My name is Rachel. What happened?” Raven breathed, reaching the couple by the docks. It was a middle-aged man and woman, both looking frantically at the remains of the docks. There were shrill cries coming from the middle of the lake, just past the remaining wooden beams of the docks.

“Maggie!” breathed woman, frantic. “The whole docks gave way and she fell in!”

The man, who looked like he was in a middle of a phone call with the fire department shot her a frantic look. “She’s five!”

Raven pulled off her bonnet, gloves, and scarf and thrust them to the frantic woman. “Here, she’ll need these when we get back,” she said. Not sparing another glance at the frantic couple, Raven took a running start towards the remaining wooden beams and jumped, easily landing on the standing wooden beam. It creaked under her weight, and she ignored the sounds of water and ice hitting the beams. The beam lurched as she shifted her weight to jump to the next support beam, nearly slipping on its frozen mossy surface.

She heard water splashing and weak cries for help up head. Raven knew she had to pull out the girl soon before hypothermia would set in. Jumping onto the last few support beams that stood out at odd angles in the freezing water, Raven stopped at the last one that leaned heavily to the right, barely above water. There was still about three meters of a distance between Raven and the little girl with some wood floating in between them. There was no way to pull her in from where she stood. She had to swim towards the girl. Well, fuck.

“Help!”

“Maggie!” Raven called, heart pounding in her chest in anticipation of the freezing water. She hated cold showers. This was going to be terrible. “I’m coming for you. Don’t worry!”

“Help,” Raven heard the little girl whimper. With a sharp intake of breath, Raven carefully slid down the upturned support beam and plunged into the icy water. She gasped as her muscles initially froze at the icy sensation. Her chest seized at the freezing temperatures and the wind momentarily knocked out of her. Holy fucking shit. Raven screwed her eyes shut and willed her muscles to move as cold water slapped her face. Hearing the soft whimpers up ahead, Raven pushed forward and quickly swam towards the girl.

“Maggie, hold on,” Raven called, she swore she felt her teeth clatter in the cold. Using a bit of her powers, she swam faster through the water, knocking away the large planks in her way. Raven panicked as the whimpers seemed the grow softer as she approached and Maggie seemed to slowly sag against the large wooden plank she had been holding on to.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Raven surged forward and watched as the little girl seemed to have fallen asleep and slip into the water. Gasping, Raven lurched forward and dove straight into the water. Spotting the small pink body in the murky lake water, Raven quickly grabbed the little girl and broke through the surface gasping for air.

“Maggie, hey, Maggie,” Ignoring the biting cold and how her winter clothes weighed her down, Raven wrapped the little girl closer to her body and patted the girl’s bright rosy cheeks as she spluttered and gasped against her shoulder. Raven allowed the little girl to gasp and recollect herself against her shoulder and she listened to Maggie whimper and wheeze loudly.

“I got you,” Raven whispered and wrapped her arms tightly around the little girl. Craning her neck, she faced Maggie and pushed wild red curls away from the girl’s face. “Hey, I’m Rachel. Let’s go back to shore, okay?”

“It’s so cold,” the little girl whimpered, and Maggie’s arms tightened around Raven. She began to sniffle and cry softly. “I want mommy,”

Raven continued to thread in the freezing water, keeping herself and the little girl afloat. Rubbing her hand soothingly across the girl’s back, she nodded. “Your mommy’s back on shore, we’ll get you there in no time,” she assured. Looking over the girl’s shoulder, she caught sight of the frantic parents back on shore. Damian was with them talking on the phone with an alert Titus at his feet. She waved her hand in the air. “Got her!”

It was a bit of distance from where they were to the shore with a thin sheet of ice covering the lake water. She would have to break through the ice as she’d swim towards the shore. It should be easy enough, Raven thought. The little girl shivered into her neck as Raven started to swim to shore, pressing the little girl into her.

“It shouldn’t take us too long,” assured Raven, as she used her right hand to push them through the water. The little girl pressed into her chest, whimpering in response. Using her fist and forearm, Raven punched into the thin layer of ice as she pressed through the ice. “You’ll get lots of hot chocolate after this,” Raven assured. “That sounds good, right?” her voice strained slightly at the cold. Her body groaned in protest as the icy water continued to stab her muscles. The little girl nodded into her neck and whimpered. Good, at least she was still pretty responsive.

“Rachel!”

Raven looked up from pressing through ice to watch Tim, Dick, Bruce, Cass, and Jason rush towards where Damian and the parents were. Cass and Tim were carrying heavy blankets while Jason was carrying a rescue buoy.

“Hold on!” Jason called from shore. Raven stopped swimming and watched as he twisted his body and forcefully threw the rescue buoy across the lake. The red ring was attached to a rope and Raven watched as it flew through the air before dropping onto the ice and skidding towards her. Using her powers discreetly underwater, she helped the buoy slide towards them. “Got it!” she called as her cold fingers wrapped around the red ring.

“Here, Maggie,” she shifted the little girl and slipped the ring securely around Maggie’s shivering form. “I need you to wrap your arms the ring, okay?” Raven watched as the little girl whimpered and she swam closer to the buoy and wrapped her arm around the girl’s shivering form. “You got this. I’m right here, I’ll push us through. My friends are going to pull us back to shore, okay? I’ll break through the ice so it’ll be easier for us, okay?” Raven pushed some red curls from the girl’s face. “Ready?”

“Okay,” Maggie whimpered. Not really wanting to waste any more time, Raven nodded and turned back to Jason and the rest. She tugged the rope. “Go!”

Raven felt Jason tug the rope and they lurched forward easily. Keeping her hand firmly pressed into Maggie’s back, Raven swam next to her and used her arm to press through the thin layer of ice to avoid any hard ice hitting the little girl. Her muscles groaned in protest and the felt the ice bite her skin.

“Maggie, baby!”

Raven groaned and pushed the buoy with a little bit more force as they closed in on shore and her feet started to feel the ground. Maggie started crying again at the sight of her parents and with a low grunt, Raven pushed the ring forward to shore. She heard Bruce bark out orders to grab the girl and Raven’s legs slipped under her as she pushed the girl towards the shore and within reach to a waiting Jason and Dick.

“Oh my god, my baby. Thank you so much, thank you. Oh Maggie!” Arms were flying around as everyone made a grab for the little girl and the mother continued to sob in the rush. Raven slipped in the water as she lost her footing and her knees hit the ground. Weighed down by her clothes and her frozen limbs, Raven clambered back to her feet and gasping for breath as the cold seemed to finally register.

“Rae,”

She felt gloved hands wrap around her wrist and pull her out of the water. She gasped as the cold air seemed to bite into her body. She tumbled into a warm solid body and her arms instinctively wrapped around Tim, immediately recognizing his warm press of emotions and his scent. She shivered as arms wrapped around her and a heavy blanket was pressed around her. She felt hands rub up and down her back as she continued to shiver into Tim. “Maggie,” she whispered, trying to look over Tim’s shoulder to where Bruce was assisting the parents. She heard muffled crying and the distant sound of an approaching ambulance.

“Maggie okay,” said Cass, hands pressed into Raven’s back to keep the blanket from sliding off her shoulders as she and Tim tried to rub some warmth into Raven.

Tim’s fingers dug into her body and he pressed her closer. “They’ll be okay, you did great, Rae.” He whispered and pressed a kiss into her cold temple. “Let’s get you back home for a hot bath,”

The trek back to the house was a blur to Raven as Tim and Cass practically pushed her back to the house with Damian and Titus on their heels while Dick, Jason, and Bruce remained by the docks to help the family and talk to the lake management regarding the docks. Cocooned in the warmth of the thick heavy blankets, Tim gently steered her into their large bathroom, warm already from the hot bath that Alfred may have already drawn for her.

“Strip,” Tim said after closing the door behind him and gently peeling off the blanket from her body and unzipping her drenched jacket. Raven hummed in protest at the cold, but lethargically complied as her healing powers slowly worked on healing her from the cold that seemed to have seeped into her bones. She shivered when warm hands pressed into her bare shoulders and hip, directing her into the excessively large bathtub.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled but allowed herself to be gently pushed into the tub. Tim snorted, sounding very unimpressed and helped her climb into the tub. Raven sighed loudly as the comfortably hot water wrapped around her freezing body and she instinctively closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink lower into lavender scented bubbles. Her tense muscles eased, and she slowly felt the cold leave her as she leaned comfortably against the tub and allowed bubbles to tickle her nose and chin.

“I’ll go get you some tea,” Tim said, and Raven heard him stand up from where he sat momentarily on the tub ledge, just watching her. She cracked open her eyes lazily, muscles more relaxed and significantly less cold as she watched him stand and make his way to the door.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” she asked, her gaze drifting over the bubbles and watching Tim curiously.

Tim blinked as his hand settled at the doorknob. He raised an eyebrow at her, lips curling up lightly, and the worry that settled around his shoulders lifted a fraction of an inch. “My entire family is downstairs, Raven,” he said, tone light. “I’ll get you some tea,”

Raven rolled her eyes and raised her right hand out of the water, lazily draping it over the ceramic tub and beckoning him to come closer. Lavender scented bubbles slid down her hand and onto the floor as she waved her hand in a beckoning motion. “I’m not asking you to have sex, Tim,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Though, it’d be a nice reward,” her eyes danced in amusement as Tim snorted.

“Come sit with me,” her hand slipped back into the warm water, and she slid a little deeper into the tub as her muscles groaned in protest. “Please?”

Caving at her request, Tim smiled and made quick work to lock the bathroom door. Raven lazily watched him take off his clothes, silently appreciating the way his muscles moved at every movement. Tim caught her triumphant smile behind the bubbles and he playfully rolled his eyes as he approached the tub. “Shut up, you,” he murmured playfully and gently nudged her forward to slip into the tub behind her. Water sloshed around in the tub dangerously as they settled in together and Tim leaned against the tub wall, gathering Raven in his arms. They both released content sighs.

“What a morning,” Tim breathed into her hair while gently running his fingers along her arm.

Raven hummed in agreement. She shifted in his arms, her fingers curling into his biceps. “I hope the little girl will be alright,” she whispered.

“I’m sure she’s fine. B was there to take care of everything.” Tim said. He leaned forward and kissed her temple, pleased to find that she had significantly warmed up. “You did great,”

She hummed again, silently glad that she decided to go on that walk with Damian and Titus. Who knew what might have happened to Maggie? Allowing the warmth of the bathwater and Tim’s presence to wrap around her, Raven felt herself slowly relax and settle comfortably against Tim’s chest as the last of her adrenaline left her body.

“I think I deserve a reward,” Raven hummed, fingers curling into Tim’s biceps as she leaned into him. Her emotions purred lowly, still coming off the adrenalin and looking for a little release. Arching into him just the right way, she felt his body respond immediately and his thighs pressed into her hips.

“Raven,” Tim said warningly, knowing full well where this was going. He felt her shift against him, soft curves brushing against his thighs and chest. A soft warmth immediately pressed low in his abdomen, and he sighed softly into her hair and squeezed her shoulders.

“What?” Tim could hear her smile in her voice. Digging his fingers into her shoulders as he kept her wrapped close to him, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “My family is downstairs,”

Raven hummed and titled her head up, a languid smile stretched across her lips as she knew she already won. She felt his erection press into her lower back, and she eagerly pushed her ass into him. “The silencing spell is still up,” she whispered and pressed a soft kiss underneath his chin.

“Raven,” Tim sighed as his resolve broke when he felt her move against him and press another tantalizing kiss into his neck. He groaned as Raven stretched across his chest, placing her head onto his left shoulder, and her breasts teasingly peaking out of the water. Releasing his hold around her shoulders, his hands slid down her chest and gently cupped her breast, fingers sliding over hard buds. He heard Raven sigh in pleasure, head tipping back in delight.

“I’m not sure if sex in a bathtub is safe,” mumbled Tim and watched Raven close her eyes, relishing the soft ministration across her breasts. Nimble fingers slid over her nipples, stroking and tweaking the hard buds. He listened to her sigh in pleasure and he eagerly watched the emotions on her face – he always enjoyed watching her openly show her emotions, it was a thrill to watch knowing only he could milk these ripples of emotions from her.

Raven released a soft sigh and looked up at Tim with hooded eyes. Shifting in his arms, she spread her legs underwater and draped them over his toned legs. The tub was wide enough for enough movement for both of them. Arching into him and relishing the tantalizing feeling of being spread out in front of him to do as he pleased, she felt heat pool low in her abdomen. “I’m sure we can do enough,” she mumbled. She sighed as one of his hands slid down her stomach and teasingly trekked towards her center. She released a soft keen as his hand cupped her fully, fingers pressing into her and she jerked into his hand. As fingers began to softly stroke her, she gave him a languid smile. “And if we’re not yet done, you can bend me over the sink and fuck my brains out,” she said teasingly.

Tim groaned, his last strands of restraint breaking at her teasing. Feeling his blood roar, Tim slid his hand up her neck and tilted her head for a greedy kiss. It was sloppy and hot as tongues slid against each other at the strained angle and Tim eagerly drank every whimper and groan that he milked from her. His fingers underwater worked their magic, slipping into her hot center and stoking a hot fire within her.

Raven bucked into his hand, eagerly chasing the pleasure and release and teasingly brushing against his own hard erection. Raven released a soft keen, as she felt Tim’s fingers dance all over her body, stroking her heat and pushing her gently towards the edge. Being so openly splayed in front of him – legs spread wide over his strong legs and her back pressed into his chest – and allowing him to stroke, probe, nip and twist as he pleased simply burned her heightened emotions. It was a sin how well he knew how to draw out every last bit of desire from her.

“Ah, Tim,” she whispered, as teeth scraped hungrily against her pulse point and two fingers eagerly stoked a burning fire within her. His nimble fingers were magic.

She tittered so closely to the edge, her adrenaline and emotions sizzling under her skin, as Tim expertly drove her towards oblivion. “Please,” she whispered and screwed her eyes shut as her sensations went into overdrive – warm water lapping against her heated skin, fingers pushing her over the edge, and teeth scraping over her skin.

Tim released a soft groan, unable to hold back as his own desires seemed to sizzle dangerously underneath his skin. With low growl and curse, he pulled out his fingers from her and ignored the whimper of protest. Sitting up, he pulled her up with him and wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her up his chest and with a few quick movements – water sloshing over the tub – he took his throbbing member and slipped into her, reverse cowgirl style.

“Fuck,” Tim growled into her hair and listened to Raven’s soft keen of pleasure as his grip around her waist tightened and he pumped into her, stroking her hungrily and catching her own erratic thrusts. Their thrusts were hurried, each roll of their hips hungrier than the last, as they tittered so dangerously close to the edge of no return.

Raven released a strangled cry as fingers danced over her clit and her movements melted into erratic thrusts. She felt her whole body erupt into an inferno as her adrenaline stoked her desires and continued to feed of Tim’s own pleasure. She felt her whole world disappear as she tumbled over the cliff and her whole body seemed to erupt in inexplicable pleasure as Tim expertly steered her through the inferno.

Tim came quickly with her as his world exploded and he released loud moan into her neck, Raven’s name a soft mantra against her skin as he continued to pump into her and extended their high. Their movements were frantic and sloppy, as they milked every last inch of pleasure.

The world seemed to slowly come back to her as Raven slumped against Tim in exhaustion, her emotions purring and the heat in her abdomen so pleasantly warm and sated. She gasped, catching her breath and listened to Tim’s own labored breathing.

Tim wrapped his arms around her and carefully slipped out of her, shuddering at the sensation of loss. He carefully wrapped her in his arms, they settled comfortably against the tub, both trying to catch their breath and allowing their heartbeat to come to normal.

“Told you we could do enough,” Raven whispered teasingly, fingers wrapping around his forearms that settled across her chest and she gave him soft squeeze.

Tim chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “My knees are on fire,” he commented breathlessly. He kissed her cheek at her amused chuckle. “Totally worth it though,”

“Let’s see if we can try the bathroom sink tonight,” he added playfully as an afterthought.

#Tim Drake #Raven #Teen Titans #TimRae #TimRae 2021 Year of Smut and Steam #TimRae Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Teen Titans Fanfiction #Young Justice #Batman

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the-bed-gremlins-reading-list · 3 years ago

Note

Obligatory RO-question: how would they react if there was only one bed?👀

Ooo, I love one-bed tropes!

Tucking this under the cut since it got a little lengthy.

Diana

Does not look at the bed. If she doesn’t acknowledge the situation it’s not there. (At least not until she figures out the logistics of how to deal with this. Lots of internal monologue going on there. There has to be another bed somewhere, right? Maybe another room. Or she could go share with Jem like they used to when they were kids. Or – she’s your Captain, this is definitely not a line that she should cross! Are you okay with this - she needs to say something, to make it not-wierd, but what even can she?) When she finally admits there’s no solution she is the one who builds a pillow wall.

If you’re past the point where feelings have been admitted, though, she goes “You better not snore” and is happiest as the big spoon.

Jem

Offers to sleep on the floor or in a chair. It honestly doesn’t occur to him that the simplest solution is to share the bed because he’d never want to impose. He can definitely be convinced to share, though. And he swears he’ll stick to his side of the bed. But he’s a sleep-octopus. You definitely are waking up tangled up together. The moment he’s conscious he manages to trip himself trying to jump out of the bed while he apologizes, profusely. And can’t quite look you in the eye without blushing the rest of the morning.

If you’ve already admitted feelings for each other he double checks that you’re okay with this, and asks that you tell him if you’re uncomfortable. He still turns into a cuddle-octopus when he’s asleep. Just instead of falling out of bed he just refuses to wake up enough from being comfy to let you go. If you have any weakness to puppy-dog eyes you may need a rescue to escape in the morning. Jem can and will deploy them to get "just five more minutes".

Eydis

Inappropriate and uncomfortable jokes galore. Also a casual reminder that she has a massive battle axe and grew up in the Order that produces the best legal defenses around. Oh and lots of deflection if you try to ask if she’s okay with it but also an adamant refusal to let you sleep somewhere less comfortable. Once you’ve settled in she whispers that she’s sorry if she wakes you up screaming or thrashing.

If she knows you have real feelings for her she goes quiet. She’s afraid of what you’ll think if one of the nightmares comes, after all, being a Death Seer is bad luck – she’s already a bit surprised you let her near. And while you of all people know that dying is traumatizing, they weren’t her deaths, but she felt them, and most the time the ones she’s had to feel aren’t gentle ones. Once convinced to get in the bed, she can’t quite get her worries to quiet but she likes being able to curl into you if you’re the big spoon and use them to block the rest of the world out, or just hold you to anchor herself to what it feels like to be alive. But, all in all, she actually finds that she really enjoys cuddling. Its 10/10, will repeat.

If she can, she’s definitely cooking you breakfast.

Rowan

It takes them a moment to remember that humans don’t just jump straight to having a cuddle puddle when there’s limited space. They’ve been around humans a long time but it still confounds them how much space they usually keep with each other. They’re very tactile when permitted to be so even as just friends they assume that sharing the bed is just going to happen. They’re probably already getting comfy when they recall that. Then it depends on the MC. If they can tell you’re uncomfortable they’re already getting up and reminding you of the fact that they don’t needto sleep the way a mortal does and that you doneed to sleep. If you’re okay with it they’re thrilled and asking how you want to do this – to make sure they don’t cross any line you don’t want to.

If feelings have been admitted and acknowledged? It goes similarly. Just with a lot more teasing and flirting. (And reassurances for the uncomfortable MCs, trying to figure out what can be done to help because they never want you to feel that way around them, not if it’s something they can fix.)

Felix

Ah, my favorite cactus. (In 98% of scenarios this can have happened he’s placing the blame on Rowan or Bors – his half-brother, who you’ll be able to meet in Ch2 - for playing matchmakers and is definitely plotting revenge for it.)

He’s grouchy and muttering curses about the whole situation while he sets up some basic protection runes around the room. But he also goes “I’ll take the floor” or “All-nighter, yaaaaay” and just refuses to budge on the option without a lot of convincing by the MC. Unless the refusal to share makes you feel sad or hurt and it shows in which case he groans and informs you that the scarf will be staying on and he will stab you – lightly - if you accidentally strangle him while you both are sleeping. Unfortunately for you he’s a blanket thief, and totally unapologetic about it.

When you wake up the next morning he’s already gone but there’s coffee/tea/hot chocolate/etc waiting for you.

Where feelings have been admitted he manages to be extra awkward for the first couple minutes – still grumbling under his breath about the whole situation while he places the runes. If he trusts you not to place expectations on him he’ll probably relax and just ask which side you prefer. Otherwise you might have to reassure him that you’re going to respect his boundaries. Felix can take or leave cuddling itself, but he likes being able to steal your body heat so cuddling inclined MC’s are in luck.

Felix wakes up first – unless your MC is the type to wake hideously early – so you don’t wake up cuddling. But there’s coffee/tea/hot chocolate, whatever your preference waiting for you when you do wake up while he fusses with one of his contraptions nearby.

Rowan & Felix

Sticking both of them in the room with an MC they both are starting to have feelings for (and is willing to go along with Rowan’s nonsense) results in something like this:

Felix: We won’t all fit.

Rowan: You give up too easily, gentle knight. MC and I can clearly see that you’re wrong.

Felix: I’m not.

Rowan: Hmm…we’ll have to try it. To be sure. Otherwise how will we know for sure?

-Ten Minutes Later-

Felix: *impersonating a grumpy blanket caterpillar* Fine. I was wrong. This is nice.

Honestly though, Rowan is probably going to be teasing and joking with both the MC and Felix until you both have relaxed about it. (Felix, the anxiety cactus that he is, has a soft spot for people that make him laugh. Clever MCs may have a slightly unfair advantage with winning him over.) And comfy cuddle pile. Rowan insists the MC takes the middle so that you have at least a chance at keeping some of the blanket.

If y’all have admitted feelings. Lots of laughter and joking is going to happen. Felix trying, and failing, to pretend to be annoyed with Rowan – and nothing will ever convince Felix that Rowan didn’t somehow arrange the whole scenario on purpose somehow. MC or Felix has to get stuck in the middle to deal with the blanket thief.

Felix is the first one actually awake, so he makes the run for coffee/tea/hot chocolate/etc and breakfast while Rowan gets to enjoy some extra cuddles.

BONUS SIBLING ROUND - Riley

Riley used to crawl into your bed all the time when they had nightmares or felt lonely before you left to go train and join the army. They could have definitely found a way to scam another room out of someone else, but they like the idea of getting to hang out with you again. So here you are.

(Besides, if their big sibling is there then they don't have to be so careful about watching their own back. They might be able to sleep with both eyes closed for once, and that'd be sort of nice.)

One thing that definitely hasn't changed with them growing up? Riley still kicks and flops around in their sleep.

#phoenix knight if #one-bed trope #aly answers asks #Diana Young #Jem Tipton #Eydis Andradottir #Rowan Silverwood #Felix Davalon #Riley Kumar #Me: Oh this is definitely just gonna be really cute and fun!#Also Me: *gave almost all the characters anxiety and trauma*

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amayawolfe · 3 years ago

Text

100 Followers Event Request #3

Ok, so, since I haven't requested anything anywhere in quite a while...how about Chrollo (of course 😂) with 14. "Quick! Catch that cat, it stole my wallet!"? I hope I remembered that well.

I just saw Chrollo and stealing and I love the idea of someone/something stealing from a thief 😂

Thank you and congratulations on 100 followers again and here's to more 🥰🥳

Take your time and take care of yourself! 🤗💕

Requested by: @to-move-on-means-to-grow

Prompt Sentence: (will appear in bold)

14. "Quick! Catch that cat, it stole my wallet!"

Character(s): Chrollo (also including Shalnark and Pakunoda)

And here.. we.. go! Lol, last request of the event. Yeah, only three requests in total. But you know what? It was fun!! I think I will hold another at 250 followers. And I bet I won’t be so nervous next time!

I hope you like it, Bomi! This one was a lot of fun and made me smile and giggle as I wrote it. ^_^ Hope you’re doing well!

~ ~ ~

In a lively city to the east of Yorknew, the late morning sun shined down brightly upon the occupants below. People of all shapes and sizes bustled about, seemingly always in a rush to reach their next destination. So much commotion made the world appear to pass time in a blur. All except for three individuals casually sitting at a table just outside a little café.

However, these individuals were no ordinary people. They were, infact, members of the ever feared and notorious Phantom Troupe. Considered to be A rank bounties for those that dared to seek them out. A fact hard to believe for those that happened to glance their way. For at that moment, they appeared to be just as normal and average as everyone else.

Shalnark was smiling and busily tapped away at his phone, occasionally taking bites out of his chocolate chip bagel with raspberry cream cheese. Having already finished her egg and bacon croissant sandwich, Pakunoda sat with her eyes closed and hands lightly wrapped around her coffee cup. The liquid inside was solid black; unlike Shalnark’s, which had turned a faded tan thanks to all the cream and sugar.

Lastly, Chrollo Lucilfer, head of the spiders, was relaxed back in his chair with legs comfortably crossed one over the other. The latest book to catch his interest in one hand, a cup of earl grey tea in the other.

To any passerby, the three merely looked like a trio of friends enjoying one another’s company for a late breakfast. In all fairness, anyone assuming as such would not have been too far off the mark.

Shalnark popped the last bite of his bagel into his mouth and chewed contentedly. He then glanced down at the table and realized Chrollo had only taken a few bites out of his everything bagel with plain cream cheese, smoked salmon and capers.

“You really should eat the rest of your breakfast, boss,” he remarked kindly, “Never know when we’re going to be able to have another relaxing meal like this. Not with the days we have planned ahead.”

“And you really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full, Shal,” Pakunoda scolded, only opening her eyes part way to look in her compatriot’s direction.

Shalnark smiled awkwardly and swallowed what was left in his mouth.

“Oh, sorry about that,” he laughed lightly.

Having heard the conversation, Chrollo took a deep breath as surfaced from the depths of the novel in hand. He looked down at his unfinished meal with an unreadable expression.

“Mmm,” he hummed, “I suppose I just don’t have much of an appetite this morning.”

A sudden loud “meow” from below the table level caught Chrollo’s attention. He looked down and saw a large, orange tabby cat looking back at him.

“Hello there,” his voice was kind. He smiled down at the feline. It then rubbed it’s body against his leg, looked up at him and meowed again. Chrollo chuckled.

“Are you hungry? Perhaps you have more of an appetite than I do.”

He brushed the capers off his smoked salmon and picked it up off the bagel with his fingers. He then handed it down to the tabby who took it hungrily.

“That was kind of you,” came a familiar voice. Chrollo looked up to see the lady that had been waiting on them.

“Would any of you like anything else? Or any refills?” the waitress offered.

“No, we should be heading out soon, thank you. Could I have the bill, please?”

“Of course.” The waitress ripped their ticket from the pad of paper and placed it face down on the table. “Take your time, no rush.”

As Chrollo pulled out his wallet, the tabby cat, who had finished it’s small meal, meowed at the man who had fed it; it wanted more.

He looked at the feline once more and only offered a small smile, “Sorry my little friend, but I have nothing more for you.”

Now, one may think it’s strange that this man, who was the head of a band of thieves, would actually pay for his and his friends’ meal. Truth was, Chrollo had a soft spot for little mom and pop shops like this cafe. They often struggled to make ends meet while big hot shot corporations had it easy; often stealing customers from businesses like these.

The spider boss left the money for the bill, plus a generous sum for the kind and attractive waitress.

And then, one of the craziest things Chrollo had ever experienced happened to him. The orange tabby that had still been begging for more food jumped up onto Chrollo’s lap, snagged his wallet out of his hands, then took off at a dead run.

Stunned, Chrollo jumped to his feet and spun around, frantically searching for the cat burglar.

“Boss?” Pakunoda questioned, she and Shalnark had not seen what happened. Just then, Chrollo spotted a furry flash of orange off in the distance down the busy street. “Quick! Catch that cat, it stole my wallet!” he shouted as he took off after the feline.

“W-wait, what?” Shalnark questioned, confused. He looked over at Pakunoda who now stood, looking after their boss in confusion. She exchanged looks with her comrade and the two of them booked it after Chrollo.

“Why would a cat steal a wallet?” Shalnark pondered aloud, “Do you think it’s being controlled by another manipulator?”

“Possibly,” Pakunoda answered, “That or it’s because the boss’s wallet smelled like salmon sincehe touched his wallet with the same hand he touched the fish.”

Shalnark thought this over, and laughed.

~ ~ ~

Thank you all so much once again for participating. I now plan to either return to writing my fanfic story for Hunter x Hunter (Bubblegum Blood) or maybe I will write some lemons for Chrollo and Illumi. Especially since I already wrote one for Hisoka, lol. Take care everyone!

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 35

💖first time reader click here💖

Reader and Eddie going on their mission. They're all morons, okay? Some canon-typical violence, bad guys being bad guys. You guys can see that I treat the fighting plot points as total crack, right?

Eddie Brock was pissed, at the Avengers mostly - for not telling him of my accident - but also at me, for the fact that I didn't call him sooner. Venom had taken over at some point, eager to participate in my plan - and it I was being honest, my uncle's space boo was the one I had relied on to participate in the mayhem that was to be caused to finally let my family breathe in peace.

The Avengers wore various expressions of guilt when an angry Eddie stormed the tower, berating them for not getting into contact with him when I was in danger. Venom growled at them, too, just the right amount of teeth and drool for Tony to quickly usher me out to 'take a walk, have some fun, build a snowman' with uncle Eddie and Venom. It was almost too easy, too predictable. The guilt that reared it's ugly head was stomped down by me and two glasses of whiskey in Eddie's rented Airbnb as I went into the fine details of my plan.

Both I and Eddie were equally surprised when Venom dropped their sarcastic, angsty teenager attitude and approached the topic with maturity, giving valuable input. The goth space goo was much, much smarter than their first impressions showed. I belatedly remembered their remark about being an apex predator species... Scary.

The plan was pretty simple.

Eddie was a professional investigative reporter and an unregistered mutant, his files being hidden so deeply due to the alien nature of the symbiote that it was unlikely that underground gangs would have any idea as to who he truly was. His involvement with SHIELD was buried under so much red tape, even Coulson himself had very little idea about Eddie's body-mate.

My uncle would sniff around the mutant underworld, just enough to catch a whiff of the mercenary's whereabouts. It should be enough if he was as famous as Natasha claimed him to be. And if it wasn't enough... I'd be bait. I doubt that the merc knew the box has been retrieved and secured; every now and then, I still caught chatter about the SHIELD agents trailing me catching a person sent to monitor me. They weren't even trying to hide that hard.

I had my suspicions SHIELD was indirectly using me as bait, too, and both Eddie and Venom were inclined to agree with the notion. Over beers and ridiculous amount of chocolate cake, a third side of the operation Baby Thief had been formed. SHIELD played their own game, the Avengers and SI threw a ridiculous amount of resources on their own and then there was me and Eddie, two halves of a whole idiot.

For once, the plan didn't go south immediately off the bat. Eddie and Venom got the information - there was a lot of uproar in the mutant community, rumours about an artifact that would let them assume their rightful place in the world, pushing the pesky humans off their pedestal. I definitely supported mutant rights - but the common notion that violence was necessary to achieve the recognition of said rights didn't sit well with me at all. Eddie agreed with me, his own curiousity pushing him to dig deeper into the situation.

My uncle could be a brilliant investigative reporter with the proper motivation and his significant other at the side. I could never tire of Venom's stories: each and every time they saved Eddie from making a clown out of himself was remembered, documented and brought up at the quickest available opportunity. I haven't laughed so hard in months.

The positives of our plan? We got a hot trail and enough information to know about the mercenary's whereabouts. We possessed the manpower needed to off him in record time, Venom eagerly offering his digestive system for our convenience.

The negatives? We'd need to bring me. Apparently there was a hefty bounty on my pretty little head and the merc himself had given up trying to chase me, hiring a bunch of muscle to do the legwork for him instead. The mercenary, a man who went by the nickname Cadre, was an ex-shield agent, who knew enough to successfully avoid the organisation following hot on his heels.

And neither SHIELD, nor Tony nor Eddie knew who had ordered the retrieval of the artifact. The mysterious person had deep pockets: all of the men were supplied with high grade weaponry and the mutants participating in the missions had equipment specifically tailored to their powers.

Perhaps, I wasn't as clever as I wanted myself to be. There was something big and ugly brewing and the bounty on my head was just the tip of the iceberg. But what was done, was done, and Venom was looking forward to a hefty meal and we set the date of Eddie "kidnapping" me in a few days time.

I hoped I'd make it home for Christmas.

The biggest surprise was that nobody suspected anything. Not even Natasha's watchful eye and inherent knowledge of shit about to be stirred - somehow, Nat always just knew those things - had revealed itself and that's how I knew it was absolutely necessary for me to be successful. There was no room for failure. In the day before my planned trip to Cadre's lair, I forced the team into a movie night and took extra time with everybody, seeing as even the most cheerful people - Thor and Wanda - walked around with sullen faces for most of the time. Perhaps, deep down, I knew that chances of my plan going awry were pretty damn high.

It felt like I was leaving for war. And perhaps, I was. The nervous, anxious energy increased as the hour X drew closer and I couldn't hide it anymore. My insomnia wore Tony's face: I could see his disappointment as clear as day, but I figured he'd forgive me for the betrayal eventually. Every single thing I hid from my newfound family made me feel a traitor. Unfortunately, there was simply no other option.

That afternoon, Eddie picked me up from the tower and drove me to one of the hideouts that belonged to Cabre. He'd tied my hands together and blindfolded me, all for show of course, whilst Venom briefly connected with my body to induce a drowsy state of mind. I didn't actually mind to be drugged and was way more wary of the symbiote's effects on my body but the space pudding extended his tentacles so quickly, I barely had the time to even swear at them.

To my (and their) surprise, it wasn't as bad as we thought it would be. In my hazy state, I briefly head Venom growl that I could be a decent short-term host if something would to happen with Eddie; I did not know how that information made me feel but did not disregard it completely. I was out of my depth on this one yet marched on towards the danger with grim determination.

"Here's the girl," Eddie's voice penetrated through the curtain of chemicals that Venom had dosed me with; I was tossed none too gently on what felt like a mattress, the landing haphazard but not painful. Venom must've dulled my pain receptors, too. "Where's our money?"

I was unceremoniously groped, my face examined by a man with ice-cold hands. Whatever he found, he deemed it satisfactory. "I'm impressed," He whistled. "We've been trying to get her for months. Care to share how you achieved this?" The strange man sounded suspicious.

"WE HAVE OUR OWN TRICKS," Venom's deep voice filled out the room like thick smoke and I just knew that the man who had been groping me was twitching in discomfort. "SO?"

"Alright, alright," The man mumbled, voice unsteady. My drowsiness slowly began to recede and I finally could focus my eyes somewhat; Eddie was partially obscured by the writhing, onyx mass of his symbiote and the man was dialing up the phone, speaking in a rapid-fire dialect I did not know. "Cabre will be here in an hour. Care for a beer?" Just like that, the man was obviously attempting to placate Eddie.

"HOT CHOCOLATE," Venom announced flatly and I had to struggle to hold back my laughter at the image of a seven feet tall tentacle monster sipping hot cocoa from a tiny porcelain cup. My nerves had me feeling ten types of way, as usual, and props to Ven making me unable to speak. I would have already killed myself by running my mouth ten times over.

The hour passed by with me floating in my mindsphere, Eddie loudly playing Candy Crush on his phone and Venom consuming ridiculous amounts of hot chocolate. It was absurd and the eerie calm was beginning to make me suspicious; I had expected... More. Threatening thugs with guns, experiments, blood tests and physical violence. Instead, the man who met with Eddie was sitting with a vacant, bored expression as he practiced card tricks in the corner furthest away from Venom.

Finally, a knock on the door forced all of us to pay attention to the newcomer. It was a tall, massively built man in his early forties. His face was covered in scars, narrow red lines that looked like small cuts; one of his eyes was completely black while the other was blue. He looked like the man at the coffee shop but at the same time, nothing like him at all.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," His voice was low and quiet. If not for the heavyweight weapon hanging over his shoulder, I would have considered him to be one of those men who only look threatening but actually are gentle giants. With steps too quiet for a man his size, he approached me, crouching down to look me in the face. "Hello, child. I've been looking for you for a long time. It's a shame we had to meet this way," He removed the strands of hair sticking to my face. For all purposes, his touch could have been considered fatherly. "Richard, bring the money." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the man who was babysitting me and Eddie and he promptly disappeared behind the steel door.

"Hello," Eddie briefly shook his hands with Cabre after the merc left me alone. I noted Venom had disappeared into the reporter's body completely. "We are Venom," Eddie introduced himself (they introduced themselves?).

"Cabre," The Merc watched my honorary uncle with a sharp eye, taking note of Eddie's lack of weapons, his worn clothes and the shaggy hair, the bags under his eyes. "Tell me, Venom, what do you know of this child?"

"Not much," Eddie shrugged, convincingly. "Just that the Avengers picked her up for some reason and locked her up in Stark's tower. We're guessing she didn't like it much 'cuz she kept sneaking out and trying to shake off the tail. Had to go through quite a few SHIELD agents to get to her," Just like we agreed, Eddie spoke with slight disdain towards Tony and SHIELD, making sure to let Cabre believe he was on the mutants' side. "We just need the money, man. Not many people will hire us," To top it up, Eddie spread his arms, showing his skin ripple and move on it's own prominently under his ratty t-shirt. Atta boy!

Cabre appeared to have bought the lie, chuffing sympathetically, before pulling out a tablet and typing on it. "Well, not for long. My superiors have found an artifact that, if unlocked properly, will render most of the technology suppressing mutant powers useless. They won't be able to get rid of us that easily anymore."

Eddie nodded eagerly, for all purposes appearing to be ecstatic about the news. "Yeah, heard some rumors here and there. Well, you and your superiors know where to find me. I could always go with some extra cash," He scratched his head, carefully watching Cabre's fingers dance on the keyboard. "What's the kid got to do with it anyway? Seems like an ordinary spoiled brat to me," Eddie threw me a look, blinking twice. The fatigue and wariness, courtesy of Venom, had begun to recede quite some time ago; with Eddie's signal, I knew the shitshow was about to start very soon.

Eddie was smart, however, finding out the bits of information SHIELD hadn't bothered to disclose to me. The residue that the cursed box had left in me was removed, so I could not understand why SHIELD was still guarding me. There had to have been another reason, a reason that neither of us knew for sure.

Cabre paused his typing. "We've been watching her for years. She's a genius. We were hoping she could help us solve a few problems..." The merc paused to rub the bridge of his nose. "We tried to get her to come willingly but her parents forbade her from it. My superiors suggested to use the artifact but something malfunctioned." For all purposes, Cabre was looking apologetic. "I am not overly fond of kidnapping children but some things just need to be done." With that, the man turned around, landing his eyes on me. "Glad to see you're up and about." Something about his smile was unnatural, forced, malicious.

"Charmed to meet you," I sat up, dazed and confused about the turn of events. The things he was saying, they didn't add up. I hadn't received any requests for my participation in ANY kind of project, illlegal or not. No scholarships, no internship offers. Something was very, very wrong.

As soon as Cabre's back was turned, Venom enveloped Eddie, turning themselves into the seven feet tall outer space monstrosity I had seen on the first day. Their combined form was terrifying - but Cabre's fingers merely twitched at the rapid change of the situation as he took slow steps towards me. "Hmm," His voice still quiet, he once again crouched in front of me. "You fought us off once but we are many. There is nowhere to run, child," Cabre's eyes began to darken, his speech turning flat.

I recognized the speech pattern, recalled the expressionless, vacant face that stared at me. Cabre was infected with the Legion from the cursed box; I hadn't prepared for that, hadn't even regarded that, thinking the little epic speech the demon had given me was a mere intimidation tactic. Fear bloomed within me, opening it's jaws like a hungry Venus flytrap but I refused to succumb to it, clenching my fists against the waves of paralyzing terror.

Venom made a confused growling noise behind me, extending a tentacle to push Cabre away; with a sickeningly wet splat, their whole form collided with the opposite wall, sliding down it like a puddle of misshapen goop. "MORSEL, GET OUT." The symbiote growled, reforming itself back.

"Silence, beast!" Cabre shrieked, unstrapping his weapon and aiming it at Venom. No bullets came out as he pressed the trigger but my ear started ringing, eyes watering as the whole form of the symbiote began to morph and ripple. Pained groans and whines came from them. A sonic gun?

"Screw you, man," I attempted to draw Cabre's attention to myself by kicking out a leg towards the gun, disrupting his arm briefly. Things were going to shit faster than a party full of teenagers and alcohol. "Fuck you, listen, FUCK YOU!" I knew antagonizing people was my best skill and that's what I did, figuring the time needed for Venom to reassemble themself could be acquired if Cabre was pissed off enough at me.

The backhand hurt, not going to lie. I saw stars from that one sloppy hit the possessed merc delivered to my face. The adrenaline rush allowed me to stay somewhat coherent and just like that time when I was trapped in my nightmares, I dove for Cabre, winding myself around him as both of us landed on the floor in a heap of limbs.

Despite my best hopes, Venom remained a puddle of black on the floor. I saw something shiny attach itself to Eddie's chest; apparently that something prevented them from combining into one again. My smaller size proved to be a great advantage; I remembered Venom's words about being a suitable short-term host and with a shriek, I placed my palm into the nearest piece of symbiote I could reach, my vision being obscured by blackness a second later.

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bittercoldbrew · 4 years ago

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Okay, so technically To Build Something New is complete and finished and I’m totally not even supposed to be working on it anymore, but this has been a shitty week and I decided to write a little something sweet and then I sort of got....carried away........ So yeah anyway, here’s a little over 4k of Ezra x f!OC, a sorta kinda epilogue to Build Something but I tried to leave things vague so it could also just be read as a standalone. No warnings, just an embarrassing amount of fluff. Enjoy! (pssst, also, I ended up writing a follow-up to this, which you can find here)

Sleep has never come easily to him. Even as a child, Ezra remembers being plagued with nightmares so often and for so long that he wouldn’t even bother waking his worn and weary parents, would simply fetch himself a cup of water from the kitchen and flip through his favorite books, gazing at the pictures and tracing fingers over words he couldn’t yet read, until sleep finally returned to him.

The woman in bed beside him is no stranger to such restlessness, and certainly is no distant, frightful parent best left unbothered. If he were to reach out a hand to her shoulder, if he were to call her name, he knows that she would wake willingly, eager to help him talk his way out of whatever trouble his overactive mind has conjured, or to simply sit with him in silence until the tension passed; she would give him whatever he needs, even if he himself doesn't know what that is just yet. It is no lack of love, given or received, that stills his hand and shuts his mouth, but rather an abundance.

Her thoughts are scarcely any kinder to her sleep schedule than his, and these past few months since her parents came and tried to upend the life she's built have not been easy ones. She certainly owes as profound a debt to the god of sleep as he does, and he simply cannot bring himself to disturb her now that she's begun to repay it.

With a sigh, he eases himself out from under her arm and up from the bed, moving slow and careful, as quiet as he can manage, trying not to feel too guilty at the sad, soft noise she makes and the way she curls her arm back into herself with the loss. Some nights, he’s more than content to lay awake beside her even if sleep never decides to make another appearance, grateful for her presence, trying and failing, always, to twist and turn his thoughts into a shape that will allow him to believe this luck that has brought him to her side. But tonight he just needs...to stretch his legs, to move his body, to remind himself that it is, still, somehow, his body, despite all that it has lost. Despite all that it has found.

He moves to the bathroom, passes through it out into the hall, hoping the added distance will prevent the sound of the door from waking the woman asleep in the bed they share. In the darkness, in the quiet, he runs a hand over his face, grounding himself with the familiar sensation of the planes and slopes of his own features. Still his face. Still his hand, even if he only has the one of them, now.

It seems instinctual, the way his feet carry him to the door across the hall, the way his ear finds itself pressed to the cool wood. He won’t bother her, won’t risk disturbing the sleep of the teenager inside, but the low whisper of the white noise machine that he can hear is enough of a comfort. Cee adjusted to planet life far faster and more completely than he has yet to manage; but even though the members of this little family all came from such disparate backgrounds, they are bound together by the act of having chosen one another, as well as by their shared insomnolent tendencies. The teenager needs this facsimile of the rumble of a ship’s engines to be able to achieve anything like sleep. Ezra himself has attempted the same, but found the noise only gave his brain something to latch onto, a reason to stay wakeful and wary, a stark contrast to its intended purpose.

Hearing hers, though, is reassurance enough that the girl is having a better night’s rest than he is, and he is grateful for that small blessing as he leans away from the door and sidles down the hallway on quiet, bare feet, mindful of all the places that creak, mapped out in his muscle memory over the course of many such nights. He crosses the front room, passes through the kitchen, until finally he steps out onto the back porch and into the cold, clear night.

The sky out here, so far from the city center, is resplendent in its beauty, a breathtaking array of stars and galaxies. Despite his many far-flung travels, there are still so many worlds to visit, still so much to see, and he will never grow weary of the sight.

It's a little too cold for stargazing, especially dressed as he is in nothing more than a patched and faded pair of boxers; but the way the air prickles against his skin and in his lungs feels almost refreshing, for now at least. It makes his racing thoughts feel sluggish, and that is certainly worth a little chill.

Sighing, he steps forward and leans against the railing, letting his eyes trace out distant constellations and star systems, scrolling through his mental catalogue of those he's visited and those he has yet to. He's picking out the faint whorl of the Ephrate when he hears the door slide open, and a sweet and sleepy voice asks, "Ezra..?"

He should have known his absence would be enough to wake her. The woman he loves is the galaxy’s most notorious blanket thief, after all; even now, the evidence of her crimes is wrapped around her like a cloak, the excess fabric bunched in her hands and clutched against her collar. Often, it’s only the warmth of his body in the bed beside her that keeps her from descending into wanton lawlessness—or, at the very least, a sleeplessness of her own. It is a rare night indeed that he can leave her side for much longer than it takes to visit the bathroom and return, before the chill is enough to wake her.

She steps forward, head down, eyes scarcely open and only to keep herself from tripping over the blanket as she draws near and leans her body heavily against his. He wraps his arm around her back and does his best to hug her close with only the one, trying not to feel so profoundly guilty at the thought of how difficult it must be for her to sleep when he’s gone so long for work.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into her hair—an apology for tonight, and also for all those nights she spends without him.

But she only shakes her head, resting her cheek against his bare chest, just below his collarbone. She stands so tall and imperious in his mind’s eye that he forgets, sometimes, how little she is, and he is grateful for moments like these to remind him.

Her voice is thick with sleep, her breath warm against his skin, as she asks, simply, “Chocolate?”

He sighs and holds her closer, wondering if he knows a single word that might be able to encapsulate how it feels to be loved by her. Beloved feels too pedestrian, too obvious. Cherished, maybe. Harbored.

He needs to consider the possibilities more carefully, but later. For now, he merely shakes his head, begrudgingly declining her generous offer. “No, I’m alright. Just needed a minute, clear my head.”

She hums softly, and the gentle vibration of it against his chest feels planet-shaking in this quiet night. “Already put it on,” she admits slowly, sounding only marginally more awake than a moment ago. “Drink some anyway?”

Sustained? Is that the word? “With you? Of course.”

The wordless noise she makes in response is pleased, contented, and for several long, precious moments she merely rests against him and lets him hold her in the dark, unhurried and unafraid in his presence.

She’s so still for so long that he notices the slight movement of her cheek, the twitch that means she’s had to blink away a notification from her optical implant, the timer she must have set for the milk warming on the stove.

“I’ll get it—” he starts to offer, eager for some way to repay her kindness, but she moves quicker than he imagined she’d be capable of right now, pulling away and whirling the blanket off her shoulders and around his with a flourish.

“No,” she declares, in that tone of voice that always makes his brain go silent and his body stand to attention, willing to do whatever she requires of him without question. But the only order she gives is, “Keep this warm for me,” passing the corners of the fabric into his grasp, and he is certain to obey as she turns and heads back inside to the kitchen.

With a sigh, Ezra takes a step back and rests against the wall of the house, hiking the blanket up a little higher as he waits for her return. He finds himself wishing Aphelia had a moon, something to make the nights a little brighter than this; the lack gives them such a clear, glorious view of all the stars and a few of the other planets in this system, so he supposes he shouldn’t complain. But it would be nice to be able to see the garden from here, to make out what birds those are calling such sweet songs among the trees at the edge of the property, to better decipher the nuance of his partner’s expression when she steps back outside a few minutes later with two mugs of cocoa in her hands.

It requires a good deal of shuffling and muttered apologies, but eventually they find themselves sitting together on the floor of the porch, propped against the wall, the blanket drawn across them both, sheltering them from the chill of metal sheeting at their backs. She is nestled at his side beneath what remains of his right arm, and she rests her head on his shoulder as they both lift mugs to their lips.

He makes an indisputably better cup of coffee—mainly because she is too impatient in the morning, content to throw a packet of bland, dehydrated nonsense into hot water if it means she can be caffeinated quicker, only willing to wait for something better if it’s Ezra who does the brewing. But her hot chocolate is a wonder, a marvel, worthy of all possible veneration, and even though he’s watched her make it time and time again, he has never managed to determine what it is she does to make it so spectacular. The beverage in his hand tonight is perfectly warm, nutty and aromatic, decadent and sweet without being cloying, with just a hint of spice. One sip, and he can feel whatever this restlessness is that’s been holding him in its vice begin to ebb away into a gentle sleepiness.

“Thank you, starlight,” he sighs, and he hopes she knows that he means all of it—not just for the chocolate, but for the blanket and the company and the understanding, for her willingness to love him with this love that encompasses all of his very many faults rather than existing in spite of them.

She doesn’t say anything in response, simply turns her head and presses a feather-light kiss to the side of his neck, and he feels certain that she does know. Especially when she turns back, and gestures with her mug in the direction of the sky. “It’s a hell of a view. Thanks for not letting me miss it.”

His breath leaves him in a rush, and he rests his cheek against the top of her head, feeling bowled over by his affection for her. That hadn’t remotely been his intention, and even if he had merely wanted her to see the stars, she could get just as lovely a view from bed, through the skylight, without having to shiver out here on the cold floor with him. But he loves that she would offer this pretense, that she would look at something he’d done to stave off his idiotic insomnia and turn it into an experience for the two of them to share.

Transformed, perhaps, is what her love makes him. Because he isn’t entirely sure who this man is that he’s become, or where all this sappiness came from. He certainly had no need for it on the Green, nor in any part of his life before he first answered the siren song of aurelac.

If he’s honest with himself, though, he’d begun to see the first signs of it before he even met her, before he endured the loss of his dominant arm and thus found himself needing to rely, from time to time, upon the kindness of others. He’d noticed it in his unwillingness to leave Number Two behind after the rest of the crew split and ran; and then again when he’d first met Cee, when she’d used up the single capacitor of that old Boscelot rifle and he, who had killed so very many times before, had been wholly unable to throw a shot her way.

His lover had seen right through him from the first, had detected those loose threads in his psyche, those barest hints of a gentleness he’d long stifled. She had tugged and pulled them loose, had unraveled the cold and unfeeling shell that he constructed around himself, until all that was left was just...him. Minus an arm, and a good portion of his dignity, and any belief he’d once had in his ability to command his own fate.

And she had looked at whatever was leftover after all that loss, and had chosen to love him anyway.

“Oh, look,” she gasps, and he straightens up and follows her gaze, finding the trail of light streaking up from the horizon, a distant ship clearing the atmosphere.

“Leaving from the 12th Sector docks, I reckon,” he tells her absently, his brain automatically calculating the distance and direction for him while he simply takes a long draught of his quickly-cooling cocoa. “Where d’you think they’re headed?”

She hums thoughtfully, brow creasing in thought, her eyes tracing the arc of their ascent and extending upward. He’s been trying to teach her and the kid—trying to not be a pedantic asshole about it—how to find landmarks in the night sky, how to navigate by constellations and planets and stations. Mostly, he’s just trying to teach them how to keep themselves safe if, Kevva forbid, he ever isn’t around to do the job. Not that he thinks them lacking in competence—each of his girls is cleverer than him by half, he knows that, and together they leave him in the dust. But this, at least, is a skill of his that they do not share, and he hopes to impart a little something of it, just in case they ever need it.

“From 12, at that angle, this late in the year...” she says slowly, thinking aloud. “I bet they’re headed for the Pug.”

“I bet you’re right,” he agrees, grinning. “Do you see it?”

She narrows her eyes, an adorable little pout to her lips as she looks for it; her natural eye’s a little farsighted, but her implant is designed for close work and magnification, and he knows that discrepancy means this sort of thing doesn’t come easy for her. But that just makes it all the sweeter, when she gasps and smiles and points and says, “There it is.”

He just sits there, staring at her and the way the starlight dances in her eyes and highlights the lines of her face, for so long that she turns to him with a curious—and then bashful—look on her face.

“Hey,” she scolds, nudging him with her elbow. “Tell me I’m right.”

“You’re right,” he says automatically, and she scoffs and elbows him again. With a laugh, he tears his gaze from her and turns to look. “Sorry, sorry. Show me again?”

She does so, and he leans in close, following the line of her arm and her outstretched finger to the familiar, pulsing glow of Puggart’s Bench. “There?”

He dips his head, presses a kiss to the skin of her arm, just past the end of the short sleeve of her sleep shirt (one of his shirts, initially, though at this point she doesn’t sleep in anything else and he’d be offended if she did). “Perfect,” he tells her—because she’s correct, yes, but also because she is perfect, in his estimation.

She smiles in a way that makes him think she understands his double meaning, and says, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says, and kisses her, and her mouth tastes like chocolate, and he doesn’t imagine there’s anything better in all the universe.

But then she lifts a hand to curl along his jaw and the tips of her fingers are like ice, and he pulls back in surprise and sets his mug carefully aside so he can grab her hand and hold it in front of his mouth and breathe a little heat against her fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were freezing, baby?”

"I'm not," she argues, even as she curls closer into the warmth of his body and tugs the blanket tighter around her shoulders, because she is, at her core, a woman of unmitigated stubbornness. "My hands are just always cold."

"Not this cold," he huffs, clenching the offending fingers in his own. "We should get you inside."

She shakes her head sternly. "I can stay out here as long as you want me to."

She has told him this before, way back when they scarcely even knew each other. Then, as now, she had been struggling to keep her eyes open. Then, as now, he had known she meant every word.

"What I want," he tells her, turning to kiss her temple, speaking the words into her skin, "is to hold you in bed for a while."

If he's honest, that's all he ever seems to want these days.

She smiles, and nods toward his mug, reaching for her own. "Finish your cocoa, first," she says, as though that is the entire reason they're out here.

And he does—because it's delicious and he doesn't want to waste it; because it's what she told him to do.

He would give her his left arm, the only one he has remaining, if she told him to.

They sit there, quiet and close, while he finishes his drink and waits patiently as she finishes hers. Then, leaning on each other for support, they make their way to their feet and back inside the house. He keeps the blanket around his body as she rinses their empty mugs and leaves them in the sink, then trails along behind her as she leads him back to their room.

Together they spread the blanket back overtop of the bed, tucking it in at the foot even though they both know she’ll have managed to drag it to her side by morning. Smiling at the thought, Ezra pulls up the covers and gets in, instinctively turning over on his right to reach for her—but she isn’t there yet, still standing next to the bed, watching him. It’s too dark to really make out her expression, but he can feel her eyes on him. “Baby?”

She doesn’t speak, just goes and walks around the bed. He turns, twisting at the waist to watch her as she lifts up the covers and...slips in behind him. She puts her arm around his chest, twines her legs with his, moves her free hand up to bury her fingers in his hair and scritch lightly against his scalp, and he groans out her name and all but melts back into her soft body.

“Is this okay?” she asks after a moment, her breath fanning against the back of his neck. He wants to answer, to tell her this is so, so much better than merely okay, but his chest has gone so tight that all the air in his lungs seems to have lodged in his throat instead. He settles for a nod, the drag of her short fingernails on the back of his head just delicious with the movement, and he knows she must be tired and will need to be asleep soon but he wishes she never had to stop.

“I know you said you wanted to hold me,” she murmurs, her voice so soft and sweet, “but I thought this might be...nice.”

“I...” he starts—or tries to, but his voice falters, and all the words he typically can rely on appear to have fled him. “Yes,” he sighs simply. “It’s very nice.”

“Good.” Her lips press a delicate kiss to his shoulder, and his breath leaves him with more of a shudder than he’d intended. “You gonna be able to sleep?”

He covers her hand with his and draws it up higher along his chest, where her fingers gently trace the line of scar tissue just below his sternum. “I hope so,” is the best answer he can offer, because even though he feels so fucking good being held by her like this and even though he can feel the exhaustion tugging him even deeper into the mattress, he knows better than to count on his mind to be cooperative.

She hums softly, and he can feel the bridge of her nose and the curve of her forehead against the skin of his back as she presses her face against him, settling in. “Okay,” she breathes, and he can tell she’s nearly asleep again already, can merely hope he’ll join her shortly. “Wake me if you get up again, okay?”

“You have work in the morning,” he reminds her, squeezing her hand, already feeling guilty for disrupting her rest as much as he has. His schedule isn’t nearly so demanding—he could stay in bed all day if he needs to, could make up the hours some other time—but she has people who rely on her, people who aren’t him.

But she just clicks her tongue against her teeth dismissively, shakes her head. Her fingers leave his hair for a dreadful moment, but only so she can reach down and tug the covers up higher (already beginning her nightly larceny, though she’s pressed so close to him that Ezra, too, may get to benefit from it tonight). “I’d rather be tired at work than not know where you are.”

It’s a simple thing to say, but he knows how much she means by it. He’s well aware of the anxieties that plague her, of the way she worries when he’s gone, of how his job and its need to drag him far away from her for long stretches of time wears at her until he’s with her again. As much as he wishes he could make all of that go away, wishes he could offer her a gentler life than this one, he knows such a thing isn’t really possible out here in the Fringe, knows they’ve come much closer than most. Still, at least he can offer her this.

He picks up her hand and lifts it to his lips, presses kisses to her smooth, soft skin. “Go to sleep, starlight. I’m not going anywhere.”

“‘Kay,” she murmurs sleepily, and he can feel her smile against his back as she shifts around, tightening her arm around him, hugging him close. “Love you, Ez.”

“Love you too, sweet girl.”

In the morning, when she wakes, he is going to make her the best goddamn cup of coffee she’s ever tasted. He will swaddle her in blankets, will weight her down with so many of them she can’t ever leave their bed, she’ll have to just stay in it with him forever. He wonders how inappropriate it would be for him to ask Cee if she would spend the night at a friend’s tomorrow, because when this woman gets home from work he’s going to need to lavish every inch of her body with affection, to prove to her again and again and again how desperately he loves her, how thoroughly he needs her, and he doesn’t imagine he’ll be able to be quiet about it even with the kid home.

It’s in these last lucid moments before sleep finally pulls him under that he realizes this night, this moment, this blissful press of her body along the length of his own with her arm curled possessively around his torso is exactly the word he's been looking for. Maybe it really is as simple as that: she makes him feel held.

#listen you will have to pry little spoon ezra from my cold dead hands #someone please give this man a hug #ezra prospect x oc #ezra prospect x reader #oc tess stone #ezra why are you so fucking difficult to write bby #to build something new #my writing

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