#i give him a heart attack every morning by telling him that I'm quitting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ryverbind · 5 months ago

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Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Bacon King [26]

TW: very slight smut & marijuana use. ALSO 100K ON WATTPAD I LOVE U GUYS SM WTF!!! seriously would not be here without all of you :,) <333

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"Good morning sleepy little princesses!"

I scrunch my closed eyes, wincing at the bright light that pushes past my eyelids.

"Fuck, Ash," I hear Larry groan frustratedly. I open an eye and peek over, noting Emo Buff Daddy himself throwing an arm over his eyes. "It's too damn early!"

The Faces and I camped out in me and Ash's partially empty living room last night-- well, some of The Faces. Todd and Neil ditched us for their own apartment, which is fair. But the other two men decided to hang out.

I'll say that sharing an air mattress with Ash has been quite an experience. I've slept in the same bed with her before, but this kind of bed just causes her to naturally gravitate toward me. Every night lately, I wake up at some point with her legs wrapped around mine in some kind of sailor's knot that I never imagined was possible.

As for Larry and Sal, I have no idea. Sal goes to bed late and he wakes up early. He's a fucking freak of nature.

"Oh, come on, you whiny little bitch," Ash teases her male twin playfully, ripping the blankets off him. "It's nine in the morning! We're going to y/n's to start packing up her stuff at ten. It's wake up time!"

That's true. I glance at the stacks of boxes around the wide expanse of our living room. We don't have furniture yet-- we still need to buy some and wait for the last moving truck to bring the bigger things Ash is taking from Nockfell. But for the most part, we've got everything here, which means my stuff is next.

With a little more grumbled complaints from Larry, the four of us finally leave our new apartment and meet up with Todd and Neil to start heading to my apartment on the other end of town.

An Uber the size of a soccer mom's mini van drops us off in front of my apartment complex and the group of us file out. Todd is busy telling Neil about the diner I worked at literally about two weeks ago-- not that he knows that.

At the mention though, I look over at the diner, feeling a little nostalgic. That is, up until Ophelia walks bounds up to the front door. I blink at my friend, furrowing my brows. What are the chances?

I yell her name, let Ash know where I'm going, then jog over to my friend who looks so pleasantly excited to see me.

"Y/n, holy shit!" She exclaims when I'm close enough, careful not to say my name too loud since Mike undoubtedly told her that The Faces didn't know about me at the time. "Girl, where have you been?"

"Um, back in my hometown, actually," I tell her with a little grin, enveloping her slightly taller figure in a tight hug.

"I heard you got fired," she cringes upon stepping back, looking down at me worriedly. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yea!" I answer, retaining my easygoing smile. "I'm streaming with The Faces. It's proven to be good income. We haven't done any videos lately because we're busy moving into a new apartment, but things have been fine otherwise." I stop my ranting and focus in on the apology I've been meaning to give her. "Also, I am so sorry about what led to me getting fired. Please relay that to Mike, too. I thought he was going to have a heart attack in front of The Faces."

"I know," Ophelia cracks up, covering her mouth with a hand. "I was watching from the bar. Poor, Mike. He could not keep it together! The sperm bank thing was hilarious." She sobers up to tell me, "But congratulations on everything else. I'm happy for you!"

I laugh with her, giving her another hug. "Thank you. But seriously, once I'm settled in my new apartment, I'll invite you guys over to hang out. I miss you," I say honestly, holding her close.

"We'd love to!" She gasps excitedly, squeezing me tight before backing away. "Just send me a text and we'll be there."

"Sounds good," I tell her. "It was nice seeing you! Have a good shift."

"You too!" She says, waving. But she pauses thinking about her words, furrowing her brows. "You don't have a shift. Forgot," she giggles to herself as she backs toward the diner, giving me little finger guns. "Love you!"

"Love you, Lia," I call back with a bright smile. She's such a character.

I walk back to The Faces quickly and lead them up to my apartment, unlocking the door and letting everyone in. I haven't been here in a while.

The day after we came back from Nockfell, Ash and I stopped by to grab some clean clothes and necessities, but I haven't been back since.

I haven't seen my dad since I left LA about two weeks ago. I called him to cry about Ash inviting me to live with her and he fangirled with me over the phone, but besides that, we haven't spoken much.

And Travis, that little ass. When I came back earlier this week, he had left a sticky note on my bed that said, 'Since you wouldn't let me send a dick pic to the singer, here.' He proceeded to scratch out three failures before finally settling on the most mediocre drawing of a dick I've ever seen in my life. But he tried, I guess.

The point is, being back home is nice-- even if it technically isn't home anymore.

Ash, ever the goddess, brought a ton of stuff to cook lunch today. I think pork chops, french fries, and snack packs of chocolate pudding cups. Though, I think it was Larry's influence that got us the snack packs.

Ash sets up shop in my kitchen, outraged at the fact that Dad bought normal salt and not Himalayan salt for her 'exquisite five star meal.'

I sit with the rest of my friends in the living room and make the split second decision to start streaming from my phone. Since I'm not doing anything right now, why not? I've got to make this bread.

I turn my phone around the room, earning a middle finger from Sal who's laid back on my couch watching some kind of play through of a Call of Duty Zombie's Easter Egg. Odd stuff. But he seems to enjoy it so I don't mind, especially given the circumstances of him moving here.

He's been really quiet this week.

Todd and Neil wave, and then I flip the screen to show me and Larry. The man has his face squished against mine so he can get into the screen. I have to adjust my mask with my free hand to make sure the squishing doesn't reveal me at all, but I have a good laugh with him anyway.

After about fifteen minutes, Ash finishes her lunch so I show my subscribers her lovely food then end the stream, grabbing a plate of food to eat with everyone.

As soon as I finish my last bite, there's a knock at my door.

I rush over to the door, ripping it open to see a grinning Nate with a plate of brownies in his hand. What a godsend.

I hop up on my toes to give him a tight hug, feeling about as giddy as I can possibly be. I haven't seen him in weeks at this point.

"Hey, Ducks," Nate drawls in that silky, deep voice of his. His free hand wraps around my waist, his head leaning down to rest against my shoulder. His voice is muffled by my hair as he continues speaking, "Looks like you didn't die back home. Shame."

I swat at his arm, taking an opportunity to snatch the brownies away from him. The smile I give him is a bit of a petty one, but it's a smile nonetheless. "You'd never get that damn screwdriver back if I died, just remember that," I remind him, breaking away from his embrace. His warm palm follows my body though, attached to the small of my back.

Nate rolls his dark eyes, tongue in cheek as he contemplates my reasoning. "Fair enough. I guess it's a good thing you made it back." His gaze has fallen on the rest of my friends now though-- the friends who watch us silently. Ash's cheeks are painted a lovely rouge color but she somehow manages to look our way.

Seeing Ash all flustered around a guy of all things is hilarious. She's so confident with women, and now she's fumbling for the right reaction.

"These are The Faces, as you probably know," I tell Nate, a happy sigh falling past my lips. I start naming them from left to right. "Sal, Ash, Larry, Todd, and his boyfriend, Neil."

Nate nods his head in greeting, lips pressed into a tight line-- his version of a smile at the moment. It's the best he can muster up, poor guy. He absolutely abhors meeting new people.

Larry cracks the code immediately, walking over to Nate and offering a hand. "Nice to meet you, dude," he starts with a cheeky smile.

Nate cracks a smile, grabbing onto Larry's hand and shaking it. "You too."

The rest of the males in the group shake his hand, but Ash simply waves from her spot across the living room. She doesn't move in.

Oh, so she's got it bad.

Still holding onto Nate's brownies, I move toward my kitchen to set them down on the cabinet. "Ash was nice enough to make lunch," I tell my friend, gesturing for him to follow. "We've all eaten already, you can have what's left."

Nate trails in behind me, watching everyone in my living room since the only thing that separates us is the island table. I put down the brownies then move around the table to sit down. Everyone else is busy watching Ash's stream from last night. She gave a quick tour of our new apartment, explaining why we won't be active for a few days and whatnot.

Plate in hand and still the sole occupant of my kitchen, Nate leans against the table opposite me and digs into his food. With just one bite of a french fry, his eyes widen a bit and he tilts his head as if he's just switched realities. "Shit's pretty good," he murmurs, focusing on his plate again to finish his bite.

I watch him with a fond smile, fisting my hands beneath my chin.

That is, until a tatted hand surfaces at my side and snatches a fry off the platter beside me. Nate and I both focus in like a cat to a laser, watching the hand move.

I follow that hand to see Sal leaning against the table, his hair hanging over his shoulders and prosthetic face aimed at Nate while his shoulder brushes mine. I search for his eyes to get a read on him-- figure out why he's here-- but with him facing away from me, the attempt is futile.

Worse though, he doesn't say a word. Just watches my friend. And Nate watches him, a contemplative expression beginning to take over his face.

Are they sizing each other up? My antisocial, shy Nate is actually looking Sal Fisher dead in the eyes without cowering?

I fight the urge to sink in on myself as I watch them and ponder what to say. I don't even know why they're looking at each other like this. It's getting tense. So tense that it suddenly feels difficult to breathe within the boys' general vicinity and I just have zero clue of what's going on.

Then, Sal snaps his head to me. I flinch when his vibrant eyes meet mine.

He looks into my eyes before his gaze begins traveling over my face. He glances here and there, taking in each curve and tilt of the mask shielding me from him. His hand lifts toward me, pushing a strand of hair away from my mouth and I blink at him. A torrent of abusive flutters infest my stomach and my body grows warm. I beg myself not to blush, wishing I could stomp down every single thought about Sal being sweet that suddenly floats into my head.

Everything begins falling apart.

"Oh," Nate mutters from in front of us. I turn to address his sound only to find his eyes a little wide and his mouth gaping a bit. "Oh," he emphasizes the word.

In my peripheral, I catch Sal switching his attention to Nate as well.

Nate immediately throws his hands up in surrender. "I think-- I think I get it." His voice is low, wavering. "We're just friends. It's not like that."

It's my turn to widen my eyes. Are they communicating telepathically or something? Is it just a weird, guy thing? Nate deciphering Sal's wordless claim is even freakier than him claiming me in general.

Sal ignores Nate's words at first, simply looks down at the plate full of fries and grabs another. "Good."

And he's gone.

I stare at the spot Sal populated just a moment ago, flabbergasted beyond belief. Just the slightest touch was a warning, a claim, and acknowledgment all in one. I can't quite process it, but thank God Nate did it all for me.

"What the fuck," he hisses lowly, leaning over the table to talk to me more privately. "You have something to tell me?"

I look at Nate again, noting his hyper finger-tapping and dilated pupils. He just got his drama for the week. No, the entire month.

Meanwhile, I'm short-circuiting. I'm still living in the moment when Sal's fingers brushed the corner of my lips and his gaze pierced through every layer of my skin. But the icy cold, overwhelming fear that suddenly slices through me like the dagger on Sal's neck brings me back to the present. Because Sal just told Nate that we're fucking without saying a single word. Now someone knows.

I can trust Nate with anything, I know that, but I'm dreading the conversation that comes with his knowledge of the situation.

Panicking, I leap up from my chair and lean toward Nate, slapping a hand over his mouth. "Not a word," I whisper to him, trying my best to keep my voice as quiet as possible. "We'll--" I pinch my lips together, shake my head. I can't believe this is happening to me. But I ground myself and do my best to remember that things are fine. Everything's okay. For now. "We'll talk about it later."

Nate nods vigorously beneath my hand, so I slowly pull it away-- watching and waiting for him to screw something up. He doesn't, but he starts conjuring up an evil plan. I can tell by the rabid smirk that begins to form on his lips. "You know I'm going to fuck with him, right?" he whispers to me, narrowing his eyes in some kind of psychotic glee.

Sighing, my head droops and I dread the full day ahead of us. "Please don't," I practically beg him.

"Even getting on your knees won't stop me from taking this opportunity," Nate cackles, grabbing his plate and moving around me to the living room. He even has the audacity to plop down beside Sal, giving him a cheeky grin before popping a fry into his mouth. Sal watches him incredulously before turning back to my TV.

The Faces, Nate, Neil, and myself spend the entire day clearing out and packing up my room. many of my belongings were already packed, seeing as I only moved to LA a year ago. We didn't have to go through the trouble of figuring out my drum kit since it's already in a bunch of boxes.

By the time nightfall came and went, we all grouped up in my living room. Surrounded by boxes and eating food that Larry so graciously ordered for us (Raising Canes, to be specific), Ash took the courtesy of trying to turn some music on to aid the relaxing atmosphere after a hard day's work.

My dear best friend is standing in front of my dad's speakers, scrolling through all of my music to pick a song while the rest of us sit in a circle. To my left, Nate, then Neil, Todd, Sal, Larry, Ash.

The balcony curtains are open to let in the beautiful city lights that manage to reflect into our apartment. Green's, blue's, and yellows engage in a passionate dance along the lines and grooves of my living room's ceiling. Such a hypnotizing light show for myself and my friends.

Ash finally settles on a song, grumbling when an ad plays as soon as she comes over to sit down. "I'm trying to play sad Bullet For My Valentine songs and Spotify won't let me!" she exclaims, plopping down on the floor beside me.

"Sorry," I snicker, dipping a fry into some sauce. "I refuse to give them any of my money."

"I'll pay for it," she scoffs, sending me a playful wink to say she's just joking. I simply roll my eyes and eat my fry, enjoying the lax atmosphere.

We fall into silence for a few minutes and I try not to look over to where Sal sits. He's been incredibly tame today-- so much so that I find myself worrying for him a bit.

He's sitting in front of my sofa, his head laid on the seat cushions. A few tendrils of his cerulean hair clash against the dark color of the fabric. And with his head bent the way it is, I can pick out just about every dip and curve along the length of his throat. A constellation to map out with my lips when the time comes.

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" Larry suddenly asks, probably put off by the silence or expressing his boredom.

I pull my attention away from Sal, especially when he picks his head up to look over at Larry.

I turn to Larry too, finding him fidgeting with his septum piercing and gazing at nothing. So his question was for anyone, then.

"I've got a story," Nate says from beside me, his tone a little too chipper for my liking.

I've mentioned before that Nate and I go way back. I mean, way back. So far back that he and I have witnessed the typical teenage depression and feeble attempts to be badass. The difference is that Nate and I went a step farther. We didn't just attempt to be badass-- we were badass. Not that I regret it, but it's something that I sickeningly assumed he would bring up at some point tonight to 'fuck' with Sal. And, dammit, Larry just gave him his opening.

In a moment of weakness, I grab onto Nate's wrist and throw him a look. Furrowed brows and wide eyes to portray that I really don't think this is a good idea.

Nate mimics my look though, leveling with me. This will be his one statement for the night and he's done. That's what his look means... but is it worth it?

I spare a glance at Sal and immediately regret it. His gaze is set on me and Nate's connected limbs, making me immediately let go of the man's wrist. Sal's already jealous enough as is-- I think that's more than enough.

But, my mind wanders back to the time Sal had a woman nearly sitting on top of him when we were in Las Vegas. All the times he was a jackass to me. You know, maybe he's better now, but that doesn't mean I can't screw with him a little too, right?

I wet my lips then turn back to Nate and give him a little nod.

I'll probably regret this later.

"Okay, so," Nate starts, scooting in closer with a winning grin on his face, hands in the air to accentuate his story-telling. I start counting my blessings. "Back in high school-- junior year I'd say-- y/n was dating this total asshole, right? I mean, this abusive, two-timing, unfaithful--"

I cut him off with an embarrassed cringe. "Get to the point, Nathaniel."

"Right, right." He rolls his eyes, waving me off. "My bad. So anyway, yea. He fucking sucked. He was also my best friend at the time." Nate tips his head toward everyone, earning lots of 'oohs' to add to his already hugely inflated ego. He continues with a dramatic bravado. "I caught him cheating again, so I let y/n know. Also cut off my friendship with him by that point."

Ash snorts. "As you should. Continue."

Nate's grin morphs into a bit of an evil smirk as he turns to Ash, talking directly to her now that she's shown more interest than everyone else even thought they're still listening intently.

"So y/n had finally had enough, thank God." He shoots me a pointed look that I only raise my eyebrows at. "And she broke up with him. She was mad. I mean, so mad that the next day she stomped up to me in the hallway, and-- get this-- with no hesitation whatsoever, said to me 'Let's fuck.'"

I hide my face in my hands at the same moment lemonade spews out of Larry's nose.

I hear a few muttered curses from Ash before Nate continues with the story.

"And I was game, duh, but I had to ask what the occasion was 'cuz the day before she was holding hands with my ex-best friend. So she explained everything to me, and..."

I peek through my eyes to see Nate who's smiling proudly at me, giving me an opportunity to continue the story. So with a breath, I lower my hands and try to ignore Sal's blazing gaze on me.

"What better way to get revenge than to fuck your ex's best friend?" I say tentatively, shrugging.

"Best part of that was he got a pic of me hitting it from the back." Nate leans away from the group with a content smile stretching across his face.

Ash giggles while Larry and Neil reach over to fist bump him. Sal looks a tad amused by the prospect too, but a completely different emotion overshadows his pretty eyes.

Todd, ever the scientist, has his own inquiries about the situation. "So, did you two ever date? I can't imagine neither of you were confused after something like that."

I shake my head. "We'd set up ground rules," I answer him. "Nate was a lousy lay," I can't help but chuckle when Nate lightly punches my shoulder. "But revenge made it erotic, I suppose." I continue, at least giving my friend a couple props.

"So no other feelings?" Ash asks, clarifying with her hands held out.

"Never," Nate declares. "No feelings other than the coolest fucking friendship in existence."

Aw, that's cute. I poke out my bottom lip and turn to him. "That's so sweet, Nate." He sends me a genuine smile that almost makes me feel bad about my next words. "But your mom's still cooler than you."

Nate groans, shoving a hand into my face. "The both of you probably beat me up together in your dreams. I don't know what the hell she see's in your evil ass."

I laugh heartily, catching Sal standing up in my peripheral. My attention leaves Nate who starts talking about the many times I was present for his chancla chucking mama's outbursts. Sal walks into my hallway-- most likely heading for the bathroom.

And you know what, I have things to confront him about right now. For one, I need to know how things are going to progress after Nate finding out about us and I can't necessarily wait to find out.

So I wait for a minute before getting up with an excuse about needing something in my room. Then, I wait in front of my bedroom door-- right across from the bathroom.

When Sal opens the door and shuts the light off, his head instantly snaps up to meet my neutral expression. He glances toward the sounds of our friends conversing from my living room then looks back to me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I hiss quietly, gesturing toward the hallway with a hand.

Sal takes leisurely steps toward me. "I should be asking you that," he challenges, voice low and words clipped. He's certainly not happy.

"I think I have a good reason to ask first," I counter, crossing my arms over my chest. "Nate knows about us, so what do we do?"

Sal doesn't answer right away, not until the toes of his shoes tap against mine. I suck in a breath and hold it when his prosthetic nose bumps my mask's. His nonchalant response is, "We fuck."

I swallow against the monsoon of butterflies that suddenly start flapping around my insides. We must stay focused, brothers.

"That's not--" I try to start, but cut myself off. I don't know what to say.

"That's not what?" Sal asks, stooping a bit lower and twisting the knob of my bedroom door. I stagger backward when the door gives.

My heart begins to race, pounding away at the fortress of ribs in my chest as Sal backs me into my room, softly shutting my door behind him. He follows me, cornering me against a wall. I can't even look at him, not when my face is flaming hot and my body is having these ridiculous reactions. I can't even confront him without freezing up now. His anger, his dominance, the upper hand he always has. Something about it is just so enthralling.

"Answer me," He says, voice a bit louder this time. "That's not what?"

"That's not a good excuse," I say quietly, taking a step to the side to move around him. But my attempt at an escape is met with a hand gently wrapping around my throat.

I swallow against his hold, imagining he can feel the action across each of his fingers. He watches me curiously as if that's exactly what's going through his head.

"It's not an excuse," he repeats my claim, tilting his head a bit to look me in the eye. "Was your story about fucking your friend an excuse, then?"

I open my mouth to say something, but shut it. I shouldn't have let Nate tell the story. It had the desired effect-- Sal is clearly feeling some kind of way about it, but I feel like it definitely wasn't necessary. What was the point?

"Are you going to fuck him again?" Sal asks, dropping every hint of emotion to portray how serious he is about the topic.

"No," I rush to say, tripping over the word. I catch my breath that won't stop running from me. "It was once. I was... I was being honest when I said he was a lousy lay. We were seventeen." I mentally apologize to Nate, knowing he wouldn't care either way because I doubt I was any good at sex either.

I haven't talked with Sal in a while. Not one-on-one. Not since right before we left Nockfell, which was nearly a week ago at this point. Everything else has been the two of us sneaking glances and scooting past with a quick 'Excuse me.' Was I so desperate to get his attention that I had to make him upset to do it? I could have just texted him on Discord or something.

Sal's quiet, letting me think about the consequences of my actions, I'm sure. But the longer he doesn't speak, the more I notice the aggression in his eyes lessens.

His thumb slowly begins to rub along my pulse point, feeling my erratic heart race the same way he did the first time he ever gripped my throat. The skin on his finger is rough, calloused. Guitar playing hands and all. The repercussions of art scratching along such a sensitive part of me.

He taps against a spot on the side of my neck, his gaze snapping to the area he's focused on. "I want to bite you right here," he murmurs quietly.

I guess he's been craving me too.

"So do it," I whisper, drunkenly taking in the way his eyes suddenly meet mine again. I don't need alcohol when Sal's around. He's proven to be more than enough intoxication.

"I can't," he replies lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. "If I do that, I'll fuck you."

I bite down on my bottom lip and think about my poor friends who are waiting for us to return. I also think about how much I've worried for Sal and how badly I've wanted to be near him all week. I can just tell them I dragged him over here to help me look for what I needed, right?

"So do it," I repeat myself, giving him the go ahead.

Sal closes his eyes for a few seconds, probably weighing his options like I just did. It seems that lust wins his internal battle though because within the next second, he leans toward me, buries his prosthetic face into the side of my neck.

I turn my head toward him, shutting my eyes when the scent of his hair envelops me whole. His azure hair, silky against my cheek, moves with him as he trails his nose lightly along the length of my throat.

"I've wanted to taste you all week," he admits quietly, the words a breathy whisper that I can hardly hear due to his prosthetic.

I try my hardest to suppress a shiver, but I can't help but clutch his hair in my hand, tugging at the long strands.

Sal hums, releasing my throat from his grip to hold me to him by the nape of my neck instead. His other hand ghosts up my body, softly trailing up my side and across my breasts all the way over to where he hides against me.

He pulls away from me just a bit, pulling his prosthetic over his head before returning to his place against my neck. I can't help but hold my breath as his scarred lips skim along my throat, leaving the smallest of kisses only when he feels the need.

I pinch my lips together and tug on his hair again when he drags on the slight touching for far too long. He chuckles quietly before finally obliging me, digging his crooked teeth into the spot he so desperately wanted to bite earlier.

I yelp, melting against him just as he pulls me closer to him with a hand on my waist. He slaps the other hand over my mouth to shut me up and I blink at the action, just a little miffed up until he licks the abused skin to soothe it.

He sucks the flesh on my neck into his mouth, leaving marks in a horrendously obvious spot that I know I'll regret later but... I don't regret it now. I can't even find it in me to care about having to hide the dark red marks he'll leave on me.

Sal continues mapping out his artwork along my skin, holding me hostage against his body. His leg finds its way between mine and he lifts his knee, creating friction against my clothed clit. I moan against his hand, making him press harder against my mouth. I grab at the hem of his shirt, squeezing the fabric in my fist as my other hand buries itself further into his hair.

I feel faint, not because of a lack of air, but because of a lack of him.

Sal moves his way up my neck kissing along my jaw before pausing in front of me, his marred nose brushing along mine. His lips are parted and swollen, the tips of his canines peeking past his top lip. And his gaze tethered to the hand that covers my mouth. I watch him, crumbling a bit as he pushes his knee into me again.

He smiles a bit, showing of a hint of that dimple that could bring me to my knees faster than anyone or anything else.

I gently bite down on his finger, causing him to slowly pull his hand away from me. I gasp for breath when his hand finally moves, running my tongue along my bottom lip. Sal's eyes track the movement and I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

His knee drops and he pulls me just a fraction of a centimeter closer to him by the back of my neck.

Something about the way his gaze doesn't leave my lips makes me freeze up.

No. No.

"Twitterpated." The word leaves my lips before I can even realize I thought of it.

Sal's hands are off of me the exact moment I formed the first syllable and he takes a baby step away. I warily watch the way his eyes widen, like he's surprised himself. And he's still close, just a hairsbreadth or two away, but he has room to regain some clarity.

I'm about to apologize when a knock sounds on my door, followed by, "Ducks? Can I come in?"

I gasp, my knees going weak for a moment-- and this time it's not because of Sal.

Unceremoniously and without reason, I shove Sal away from me. He stumbles backward, catching himself with a hand on my bed and an offended grunt.

I reach a hand toward him to offer help that's far too late, my eyes wide as I cringe at the sheer audacity that this situation has slapped me with. But remembering that my dad is literally outside the door, I motion to Sal's prosthetic that's limply hanging from his left hand.

"Put it on!" I whisper harshly.

Sal realizes I'm saving him, saying his thanks through wide eye contact alone as he buckles the prosthetic to his face again.

"Um," I say, loud enough for my dad as I glance around my room. I spot an Amazon box and chuck it at Sal, managing to smack him in the prosthetic he just finished placing onto his face.

He throws his hands up and narrows his eyes at me while I mutter an embarrassed, "Fuck!" To my surprise, Sal chuckles.

I take a breath and sit down in front of my computer, ripping the drawer on my desk open to look like I was rifling in it. "Yea, dad," I call and I watch Sal's body go rigid in my peripheral. "You can come in."

I glance back at Sal who frantically unfolds the flaps on the boxes, practically burying his head into it. I can't help but laugh at the visual.

My dad cracks the door open, peeking in with a hand over his eyes so he doesn't see anything unsightly. "Sorry, just wanted to check in. I'm stopping by to grab my laptop and, apparently, Raising Canes. Then I'm heading to the airport." He gives me a reassuring, gentle smile.

I stand up, ditching my prop excuse and walking over to hug my dad. "No problem, we were just..." I look back at Sal who's finally poked his head out of the box. "Looking for Nate's screw driver," I continue, turning back to my dad.

My father, Bruce, bacon king himself, slackens his expression to tell me he's not buying it and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I rub a hand over my forehead before gesturing to Sal. "This is Sal," I tell my dad, "Sal, this is my dad."

"Good evening, sir. Nice to meet you," Sal says politely and it takes everything in me not to snap my neck on my way to look at him incredulously. Where the hell did these manners come from?

My dad smiles at Sal, waving to him. "Nice to meet you too, son."

Then he leans toward me, his grey eyes beyond amused as he says, quiet enough so Sal doesn't hear, "You have a hickey the size of Australia on the side of your neck, sweetheart."

Oh my God.

I loose a pained breath, slapping a hand over the side of my neck that Sal had attacked just moments ago.

"Other side, honey," Dad says and I think I'm seriously going to faint while I slap my other hand to the opposite side of my neck-- just in time for him to cackle and continue with, "Just fucking with you. You were right the first time."

I watch my dad with wide eyes, fumbling around my brain for words. All I manage to come up with is, "Is blood really thicker than water, Bruce?"

My dad chuckles lightheartedly, clapping a hand onto my shoulder as an apology and squeezing gently. "I'll leave you be, Ducks. I'm going grab my things-- I'll check back in a bit to say goodbye."

And then he shuts the door again. That bastard, I hate how much I love him.

I turn back to Sal with a troubled sigh, but I feel a bit revitalized when I see the mortified look in his eyes.

"Oh my God," Sal voices my thoughts and I laugh lightly, walking over to take the random Amazon box from him.

"Don't worry, he isn't crazy," I try to reassure Sal as I drop the box into the corner behind my desk. "Can't say the same for when he heard about me and Nate though."

"If you were seventeen, I can just about imagine," Sal murmurs more to himself than to me. "Sorry. About your neck." He says a bit louder this time, but remorse taints his tone. "About all of it."

His tone and words tug at my heartstrings. "Don't worry about it," I tell him, making my voice a little gentler than normal. "I was..." I pause, thinking of how to word my reaction properly. "Scared."

Sal snorts. "Me too. I didn't mean for it to look the way it did, I was just fascinated."

"When are you not?" I quip, closing the drawer to my desk.

"I thought we were being nicer to each other," Sal counters my statement with one that bites. I turn my head over my shoulder, noting the fire in his eyes. He's hungry for a fight.

"Since when?" I turn to him, leaning back against my desk with a minuscule, barely there smile on my lips. "I thought our arrangement was sex, not friends."

Sal tilts his head a bit. "We're not friends?"

I straighten, blinking at him as embarrassment flares within me again. A tremor of flutters makes my heart skip a beat at the same time and my mind goes completely blank.

"I--I mean--" I rush to say, swallowing past the stutter. "Yea, we're friends. I guess. If you want. I don't--"

Sal laughs. He closes his eyes as the lovely sound echoes around my room. Then he stands and saunters to my door, quick to make his exit.

He turns the knob, back to the door as he says his parting words. "You don't stand a single chance, y/n."

No, I really don't.

I sigh, grabbing concealer and foundation to dab onto the pretty mark on my neck, making sure it's covered as much as possible before I follow after Sal.

When I get through the hallway and resurface in my living room, I find my dad standing right outside my friend's little circle on the floor. He turns to me when I walk in, his dad radar making him look directly at my neck. When he finishes his visual examination, he throws me a thumbs up. I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the shame coursing through me.

"Hey, Ducky-Duck," Ash chirps from the floor. "The guys and I are about to head out. Are you coming tonight?"

I smile at my dear friend. "I think I'm going to stay here tonight, hang out with Nate before I move out for good."

Ash nods her understanding, bright smile still lighting up her entire face. "Sounds good! We'll start bringing your things over tomorrow, right?"

I nod back to her, "Yep, I'll be up bright and early."

"Cool," she says, looking over to Nate who watches the exchange. "And you're always welcome at our apartment too. Just so you know." Her smile widens a bit.

Some part of me thinks they're going to end up hooking up somewhere in the future.

I watch the moment Sal realizes he has nothing to worry about. Nate smiles wickedly at Ash, all but confirming that we can expect that to be a thing at some point.

I hug my friends and my dad goodbye, watching as they file out of the apartment. When I return to my living room, Nate's sitting on my couch with a joint between his fingers.

I fight the laugh that bubbles up my throat, especially when he glances up at me with raised eyebrows, asking an unspoken question.

"Let's go to the balcony. Dad would kill me if I burned his couch," I say, grabbing Nate's arm and pulling him up to drag him outside.

We keep the doors open, sitting beneath the clear night sky while passing the joint between the both of us. Smoke materializes in the air through various, white puffs that dissipate as they climb higher and higher.

It's quiet for a bit-- well, as quiet as city nightlife can be. Muted laughter, music, and car honks echo off the wall of my apartment. Makes my nights a little less lonely.

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Nate breaks our silence, taking a hit from the joint before moving it toward me.

I take it between my index and thumb and examine it. "We've been..." I pinch my lips together as I ponder the situation I've gotten myself in. I take my own hit before passing it back to Nate. I blow the smoke into the open air before continuing my explanation. "We've been fucking around for... jeez, like, two months now."

"Two months!?" Nate repeats, flabbergasted as he holds the butt of our shared joint between his index and middle fingers. "That long?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "Yea, it's been a while. It started online, shockingly."

"Damn." Nate releases an audible breath, dark eyes glancing between my own. "Phone sex?" He quirks an eyebrow.

I grin. "Yea."

He fist pumps the air, giggling to himself. "So, does anyone else know? You seemed a little apprehensive about me saying anything."

I shake my head. "The rest of our friends would tell us to call it off if they found out, which is why we haven't said anything-- or, well, that's what I think they'd do. No one else knows. Just you-- and my fucking dad now." I rub a hand down my face at the reminder, whimpering at the sheer fact that my dad knows that something is going on between Sal and I.

Nate chokes on a cackle, leaning forward in his chair to launch into a coughing fit. I watch, pretending to be unimpressed even as a little smile works onto my face. I guess it's a little funny. What are the odds, right?

"Your dad? That shit's priceless," Nate sighs, catching his breath. "Why not try a relationship?"

"God, no," I shoot the words out immediately. I don't even want to think about it. "He and I have an arrangement. It's just sex. Neither of us have hinted at anything else. And besides, I don't want a relationship." My voice grows quieter toward the end.

Nate's expression is filled with pity. "Y/n, I know your last relationship wasn't great. Hell, we relived that bullshit tonight with the story." He laughs lightly at the reminder of everyone's shocked reactions to him and I hooking up in high school. "But don't let that stop you from pursuing anything new. Sally Face seems to be pretty into you," he continues gently.

I snort, looking away. "It's just basic attraction. I think he has his own shit to work through and I do too."

"You're throwing excuses at the wrong fucking person," Nate says knowingly. "I saw you stealing glances every two minutes."

I turn my head to him, glaring. I throw a quick, discreet punch at his arm and don't feel bad about it when he hisses in pain.

But I have to think about what he said too. Sal and I had a rather frantic run-in with each other tonight-- one that ended just as frantic as it began. I used our safe word for the first and probably the only time ever. Part of me feels guilty about it, but another part remembers that I was justified. Sal has always been understanding. He wasn't mad, backed off as soon as I let him know.

I let the thoughts marinate for a few moments before expressing them to Nate.

"I think he tried to kiss me tonight," I admit quietly, cracking my knuckles as I watch the stars light up the sky. My cheeks grow pink as I voice the idea, afraid that it'll somehow prove to be true.

I catch Nate's head turning toward me in my peripheral. "And how do you feel about that?"

I laugh humorlessly. "Not great considering I used our safe word."

Nate sits up a little straighter, still looking at me. "Oh, damn. That bad?"

I nod, tilting my head down with a mixture of shame and fear. I don't know how to feel about it because a small part of me wants it, but the rest of me is terrified.

Nate takes a deep breath. "If it's what you said, a sex arrangement, then you have nothing to worry about. It's surface level, right? So what's wrong with a kiss? I'm honestly pretty shocked you haven't kissed at this point. Most people do, especially for hookups."

He has a point.

"I know," I tell him honestly. "When things started, the prosthetic was still a barrier. He's... he's started taking it off around me though. So we've been able to do... more."

"If he's taking the prosthetic off, then he trusts you. So why don't you trust him?"

Nate's question hits me a little deeper than intended. I gulp over the words, organizing them in my head and thinking hard about it. I do trust Sal. He hasn't led me astray, he's been kinder lately, he's always done exactly as I asked. If I express my worries about kissing, I don't have a single doubt in my mind that he'd take it seriously and accommodate me as best as possible. I just have to work up the courage to let it happen.

The next issue though...

"He played it off though," I sigh, shifting in my seat to face Nate. "He apologized, said it wasn't what it seemed like and that he was just fascinated. But, the way he was looking at me... I don't think he was telling the truth."

I peek at Nate through my lashes, noting his concerned, serious expression. "I think that your fear of it scared him. Maybe he didn't want you to call things off over that, so he didn't tell you the complete truth."

I tilt my head, considering. I've done the same exact thing with Sal-- fibbed and left out information to ensure that we'd continue our arrangement. It makes sense, as sad as it is.

"Are you sure you don't have any feelings for him, y/n?" Nate asks, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

I open my mouth to spit out a very loud 'no,' but I stop and think about it. Damn Nathaniel for making me actually think about things tonight.

Everything that made me hate Sal in the beginning is practically nonexistent now. All the anger, the pain, the fights. Sure, we still bicker here and there, but it's for fun now. It's never serious, never deep. It's a lot like Nate and I's friendly banter. Besides that, Sal has been excellent in pretty much every box on the check list.

So, do I like him?

"I mean," I whisper. "I definitely have a crush." I admit, albeit with a bit of force considering it's the last thing I want to admit.

"Well, duh. He's got a crush on you, too. Why else would you guys be fucking?" Nate sighs dramatically, flicking his wrist with a prideful flair I haven't seen from him in a very long time. I think he had fun tonight. The thought makes me smile.

I shrug in response even though the thought of Sal crushing on me does make me feel a bit gooey on the inside.

Wait, gooey?

I groan, slapping my hands over my face and grumbling a muffled, "Fuck."

Nate guffaws, his chair creaking as he sits up quickly. He shoves my arm. "You do like him!"

I shove his arm back, swallowing back tears of surprise, fear, and regret. The audacity of my own emotions. "If I do like him," I start, leveling a glare at Nate which makes him sober up quickly. "It's not enough. Nowhere near. And besides, he's still a shitbag." I don't mean those words as much as I used to.

"That's true," Nate mumbles to himself. "You two have a little feud online, don't you?" His brows furrow and he looks down at the small space between us. "Oh, wait." He snaps his head up to me. "What about that other guy? What was his name..."

"Oh, shit," I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand. I've been so blinded by Sal that I forgot about him. "North."

"Yea! That's it," Nate points at me, eyebrows raising now. "People online are saying you're dating."

I shake my head. "No, I've only met him a handful of times. Spoken even less. I think he's definitely got the hots for me," I snicker at the idea. "It's nothing like what's going on with Sal and I though."

"Doesn't seem like that online," he murmurs, brows raised suggestively. I scoff in retaliation, rolling my eyes at him. But then he narrows his gaze in my direction, scrutinizing me from the minute distance between us.

I watch with bated breath, waiting for whatever's brewing in his head to leave his mouth.

"Why the hell are you still wearing your mask? In fact, why are you wearing a mask at all?"

The reminder washes over me like a bucket of ice water. I suck in a quick breath, hold it as humiliation alters my expression. Nate takes my reaction seriously, sobering up the friendly banter we had going on for a bit.

"You're... going to get a kick out of this one," I whisper, chewing on my lips. At this point, the situations I've stuck myself in are becoming ironically hilarious. Who does this to themselves?

Nate's face drops as he seems to catch the hint that I buried myself in something stupid again. "What did you do."

Statement, not a question.

I suck on my teeth, averting my gaze to avoid seeing the dumbfounded look of pity and awe that'll take over his handsome face the moment I spit it out.

"I met him once. Before I ever talked to him online. He was at the diner-- he hated me. I... I panicked. So beneath the mask, my face is a girl named Lexi to him. She has no relation to myself or Vi." I spit the words out quickly, frantically, so much so that I worry he may not have been able to catch all of it.

I scrunch my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as my body grows warm. Saying it out loud feels so much worse than thinking it.

Why am I doing this to him? Isn't this just... insanely cruel? To look Sal in the eyes and play with his head. To know he thinks I'm two different people and never say a word about it.

I mean, at least he doesn't think I'm three people anymore. And besides, he took my reveal as y/n well, right? So maybe the same would go for Lexi's reveal.

"You're such a dumb fuck." Nate shakes his head, flabbergasted. "What are you going to do about that?"

Tongue in cheek, I ask myself the same question. What do I do? Hope for the best, that he just somehow never finds out or grows curious? Wait until he gets tired of me?

I blink around the frustration and fear that starts to rip at my insides. "I really don't know."

Nate hums, pursing his lips. "Well," he says, voice much lower now. "Seems like you have a lot to think about, huh?"

"When I'm not high? Yea. Definitely." I laugh lightly as Nate sends me a reassuring, friendly smile before turning to watch the sky. I mimic him, gazing at the cloudless night.

Every once in a while, I find that the color of some of the stars matches Sal's eyes perfectly. I wonder if he'd think the same.

-------

A/N::::::::::::::: happy 100k everyone!! to ALL my readers, i want to start by expressing my immense gratitude. I just know that 14 year old ryver has tears streaming down her face knowing that we got here. never in my life did i think this would actually happen to me, but even more than that, i never expected to make such wonderful friends in all of you along the way. 100,000 views on a piece of work i created feels absolutely impossible, but i would not be here without all of you. through this process, you've all been so kind, helpful, loving, and wonderful. the right words to explain how much i love you do not exist. this feeling is incomparable to any other and not a single concept on this earth could possibly capture it's essence completely. THANK YOU! from the bottom of my little heart, thank you so much. i love you all with every fucking bit of me. we're all little fish floating down a lone river in appalachia-- we're all together in some universe or another and i wouldn't have it any other way <3

all week, i've been thinking hard about this chapter and how much i've wanted to give you guys a good one to celebrate! when it started i was like :/ don't like itttt. BUT i had a couple drinks (DO NOT RECOMMEND-- DON'T DRINK ALCOHOL FOOLS) and managed to pump out about 5,000 more words in one night! 5,000 that were completely unplanned, but ended up working out really well. i fell IN LOVE with nate and y/n's little interaction at the end :3

as of right now, it's 1:49am on wednesday, june 12th. we sit at 99.5k and i've been tweaking all day to come home and finish this chapter for you guys. i'm counting down the minutes, counting down the views left to go and listening to twenty one pilots. i feel like i'm living the life i've always wanted and it's all thanks to you. thank you for everything, my loves. i love you all with my entire heart and soul! have a wonderful morning, day, evening, night! until next time <3

p.s. you won't have to wait longer cuz GUESS WHO'S FINISHING A SAL LORE CHAPTER TO CELEBRATE TOO WOOOOOOOO!!!!

p.s.s. My little brother made a Sally Face mask (he's super duper talented) and let me borrow it for pics with my 100k cake. It's currently on Instagram (which is ryverbind)

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic #smut

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lively-potter · 10 months ago

Text

— moon struck ; jjk ; one

— genre ; strangers to friends to lovers/kinda grumpy x sunshine/smut/fluff/angstwithahappyending 🥹

— warnings ; body insecurities ( mentioned ), eating disorder ( in the past but mentioned ), oc deals with a severe amount of anxiety and panic attacks, violence, smut ( later ), FLUFF, love struck jungkookie 🥹

— find me on Wattpad ; @/LivelyPotter

— word count ; 2.4k

— part two

— 2024 © @LivelyPotter

river’s pov ; six am

My brother Brandon always used to tell me to make sure the walls that I built to protect myself didn't become a prison — a prison that I couldn't escape.

Ten years later, I could shamefully say that I did not listen to his advice, and now I was paying for it in the worst way possible.

Knees tucked to my chest, I panted and eyed the area around me nervously, as if I expected the man that I had been avoiding as the plague had come upon me.

Tucked inside the teeny tiny cleaning closet across from the kitchen, with the door locked and closed – it wasn't possible, but in my mind, there was still a chance.

But maybe that was just me being paranoid.

Okay, I was paranoid. Very paranoid.

Listening closely to the parents dropping their children off, I prayed to whoever was listening to me at this moment that I wouldn't be found by anyone until it was only Sang, the children, and I in the building.

I gulped past the ball that seemed to be lodged in my throat constantly whenever he came to my mind.

He nearly always was on my mind, so I was growing quite used to the clogging of my throat and the constant upbeat of my heart thrumming inside my chest.

He was here, and he crept up on me ( not really, I'm just being dramatic ) without my notice with little Moon in his big strong arms.

Once I caught sight of him – smiling kindly and brightly as he always did, a breathless whisper of my name leaving his red-bitten lips – I squeaked and ran away like a coward, ghostly pale face stained crimson.

It had been this way for seven, grueling, nerve-racking, months.

Ever since Jeon Jungkook moved to Charleston with his two-year-old daughter to live closer to his aunt, Mi Cha, my life had turned on its axis. I was living in fear every morning when the twenty-six-year-old man would drop off his daughter at the daycare center Sang and I ran.

A whimper of disparity left my lips.

My other best friends Brett and Atlas would never let me live this down. On the other hand, Sang and Wil wouldn't give me a hard time about running away from the man when he hadn't even spoken ten words to me.

Not for lack of trying, he had tried speaking to me �� every day in fact, but I was the problem. I was the one who chickened out the moment I saw his intimidating, tattoo-laden figure — looking totally out of place in the yellow and lavender mellow aura surrounding the daycare center.

I didn't want to admit to the rest of my friends and family that I was scared of him. Terrified is a better word for it.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, enough to taste the nasty metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.

I cringed and rubbed over the small gash on my lower lip.

I know. I know it's unrealistic and okay, childish to be afraid of a man that I didn't know...but I just couldn't help it! I just couldn't!

Not when he stares at me, with those pretty boba-like eyes and that sweet smile on his handsome face, which for some odd reason, I find him doing a lot before my slow brain finally clicks that he's near.

When I catch sight of him, my fight-or-fly instinct kicks in and I'm gone.

It leads me to some very embarrassing moments that I'm not proud of.

Heck, even last week at the supermarket, I found him and Moon shopping and before he could find me, I hightailed it to the freezer section, and thankfully old man Joe — the resident frozen food stocker, let me hide in the freezing ice room containing huge pieces of pork, beef, and chicken hanging from metal hooks.

I could imagine Brett and Atlas laughing at my misfortune. Those two were a lot more courageous than I was, and I was still fighting past my insecurities about how in the world those two amazing people would want to be friends with me.

A girl who had way too many issues and experienced large bouts of cowardice.

Oh for dingleberries sake!

A shiver tumbled down my spine as I once again remembered that freezer room.

It freaked me out since it reminded me of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but I held strong. Being forced to be scared of ole Joe plunging one of those metal hooks through my neck and suspending my dead body from the ceiling was better than being around Jungkook and those feelings I got whenever I was around him.

Yes, I was running away from my feelings, and I didn't care.

As long as it wasn't hurting anyone, I could carry on in life with a guiltless conscience.

I wasn't hurting anyone, right?

A tremble parted my lips as a quick knock sounded on the door.

"River, he's gone now." A resounding sigh of relief left my lips at hearing Sang's voice. "Moon's been crying for you for the past ten minutes."

I licked at my chapped lips and got up off the floor, and dusted off my light denim baggy pants, and tugged at the oversized Nike sweatshirt I wore as I opened the door and skittered out.

Sang, with her arms crossed across her pink dress-covered figure, watched me sympathetically and carefully wrapped her taller self around my pixie-like frame and led me down the hall and into the children's room.

"You know you'll eventually have to stop avoiding him, right?" She chuckled and pinched my rosy cheek between her manicured fingers.

I avoided her eyes and fiddled with the hem of my shirt, "You don't see his face every time you run, Rivvy." She sighed, "I feel bad for the poor man, Mi Cha speaks about it sometimes. You ought to give Jungkook a break."

Why did it matter to him whether I avoided him or not?

Wouldn't a lot of people be put off by the sheer dominance that man gave off?

Wasn't he used to it?

I cringed, "...I'm sorry. I just can't help it." I mumbled and tucked my pale hair behind my ears as a high-pitched scream entered my ears.

Wincing at the familiar sound, a smile quirked up my lips at the tiny baby, with her gleaming, tear-filled boba eyes and wobbly lips, and cute little curled pigtails swinging back and forth as she marched towards me.

Her little white Air Force ones thumped on the ground as the tiny little girl marched towards me clumsily.

I mustered a giggle and knelt to receive the adorable two-year-old in my arms.

This, ladies and gentlemen, was Jeon Moon.

"Riv!" She cried out a new version of my name, the only part she could pronounce, and fat tears dribbled down her face as she placed her head on my chest.

"Shhh," I hushed the little child, who had begun to get the other kids' attention and before the others swarmed me, demanding attention, I had to quiet her. "It's okay, Moon." I smoothed back her silky dark hair as she calmed down and sniffled against my sweatshirt.

Sang smirked and pushed her chameleon-colored hair off her shoulders, "I don't know why she always comes to you, River." She snickered, now holding little Sarah in her arms.

"But seeing as you both prefer to keep to yourselves and avoid other people like the plague, I kinda see it." She joked.

"Haha." I deadpan at her, blinking down at Moon. My heart swelled at the adorable child and I hugged her closer to my body.

She was just too darn cute!

I wouldn't admit it out loud, but she looked like a baby female version of her dad.

Over the next few minutes, Sang and I sat on the floor as we watched over the kids who had already raided the toy box.

Being the youngest and the most interesting yet introverted child I had ever met, Moon decided to stay seated on my lap while digging into the soft strawberry puff snacks her dad packed for her.

"Oh!" Sang spoke up suddenly, causing Moon and I to look at her, lips forming an O at being startled.

My best friend stifled a giggle, "Your brothers will be here soon — they decided to bring lunch for us since you forgot to bring your own." She sent me a knowing look, more than likely knowing that I had forgotten on purpose.

I once again avoided her eyes and turned my focus to Moon who cooed, those rosy sun-kissed cheeks chubbily pooched out as she ate.

I released a laugh of my own and wiped along her lips with a baby wipe, cleaning the crumbs from her little delicate face.

"Sounds good." I exclaimed, meeting her emerald eyes, "Brett messaged me this morning and said she and Atlas may come down soon to hang out."

Sang only nodded and looked behind my shoulder, biting her lol nervously.

I felt my stomach drop and dread fill my gut. "What is it?" I gulped, fearing the worst.

Sang chewed on her top lip thoughtfully, "I was wondering whether or not you could take over pickup later today, Brandon and Corey need me back at this apartment."

The nervous tinge in her voice caused suspicion to curl along inside my chest, but knowing I would have to face my biggest nightmare, I nodded.

"Sure," I replied, my normally soft-spoken voice shaking in trepidation. I would find a way out of having to face him. I risked a look down at Moon who began to toy with my earring.

Sang had a proud glint in her eye, "Thank you, Rivvy!"

"No problem." I forced a smile and played with Moon's little pigtails.

Sang walked off to help stop a dispute between a couple of ten-year-olds while I gazed down at Moon.

"Oh, Moon." A loud sigh left my lips, displaying the fear inside my heart. "Why does your daddy have to be so darn scary?"

***

third pov ; jeon jungkook

The twenty-six-year-old man stared glumly at the table before him in silence. Using a spoon, Jungkook stirred the warmed ginseng tea within the mug.

"Did that sweet River flee from you again, joka?" Jeon Mi Cha guessed, studying the expression on her nephew's face.

Jungkook fiddled with the silver bar through his brow and sighed heavily, his expression and bodily actions speaking for themselves.

He sipped slowly at the warm drink and licked the droplets from his pierced bottom lip.

"Of course." He exhaled, gritting his teeth. "It's been like this for months, gomo. Why should I expect anything else? I...I try to speak to her every day, and it just stings when she doesn't even give me a chance to speak to her."

Jungkook felt his heart squeeze within the confines of his rib cage and resisted the urge to rub the skin above his heart.

Mi Cha frowned, "I've known that girl since she was five years old and clinging onto her brother's pant leg." She chuckled, seeing a smile erupt on Jungkook's face as he imagined a tiny five-year-old River.

Fuck, he imagined she was as adorable as his Moon!

"She hasn't got out much, Jungkookie." Mi Cha smiled comfortingly, "From what Sang has told me, the girl was homeschooled by her brothers and never really left her home. The only people that are close enough to her are family and those friends of hers that she's known her entire life."

"I know," Jungkook rubbed across his sharp jawline and tongued his cheek thoughtfully, "Since Min Jee and I divorced...I hadn't ever really tried to get back into the dating scene — honestly, I never really felt the urge to, until I saw her." He rumbled, eyes crinkled at the corners as his cheeks flushed the slightest bit.

He'd never blush because of a girl before, but since he had met River Henshaw, blushing in her presence was all he could do.

He wished he could play it cool.

Mi Cha hid her knowing smile behind her hand and continued to listen to Jungkook ramble.

"It's unbelievable to explain this out loud...but I want to get to know her so badly...it's like...she's like..." he struggled to find the right words so his aunt came to understand him. "I just know that she's something special. I just know it. We've never had a conversation, but I know I'll fall for her the second she looks into my eyes and smiles at me."

She was perfect in his eyes.

Attracted to her from first sight, and later falling in deeper the more he learned about her from Sang, Mi Cha, and hell, even his little Moon, who worshiped the ground River Henshaw walked on just proved time and time again that he shouldn't give up.

He didn't think he could.

No matter how insecure he got...when all she did was blatantly avoid him and tremble when he got near.

It was a searing blow to his self-confidence.

When she looked at him for the first time, it was like bells rang in his ears and everything around them blurred and all he could see was her.

"You'll get your chance, joka. It will take time. She's a skittish one."

Jungkook nodded, but other thoughts overwhelmed him.

"It just makes me upset when I hear her mutter 'run, River, run!' to herself." Jungkook's face fell in sadness.

What if the reason she wanted nothing to do with him was because he was older than her? Not too much — only seven years — or was it the fact that he was a dad?

The woman his mother had tried and failed to set him up with a year ago was always put off by the fact that he had a daughter. A baby.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his brain, Jungkook looked back to Mi Cha and rose that pierced brow of his.

"Because you're here at seven am on a Monday morning and not at your shop." She snorted, "Plus you have that puppy love look in your eyes. Again."

Jungkook only grunted in return, resuming his task of avoiding her knowing eyes to count to specks on the marble counter.

author's note ; ✨

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you loved the introduction to River's story!

Don't hesitate to let me know what you think!

#dilf jungkook #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #wattpad fanfiction #wattpad #jjk #jungkook x original character #moonstruck

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agirlwithdemonblood · 5 months ago

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The Celebrity Next Door: Chapter 14- Resolving Resentments

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Chapter Summary: Jensen has a big question to ask his ex wife, and Y/N realizes the weight of her decision.

Warnings: Slight panic attack, mentions of crying, panics.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

Rain tapped gently against the glass windowpanes, filling the room with a soothing aura. A light breeze stirred around us, just enough to wake me from my sleep. The bed was a mess of blankets and pillows, and Jensen and I were entangled, limbs intertwined, holding each other close.

My arm tightened around Jensen's shoulder as I pulled him closer to my chest. He sighed contentedly, his eyes fluttering open to meet mine. A smile spread across his face, mine quickly reflecting back.

"Can you believe we're in Texas?" I whispered. He shook his head with a chuckle. "I can. But can you believe we're going to move here, together?"

I froze for a moment, my smile faltering. I truly wanted to move with Jensen, but the thought of uprooting my life, handling so many changes at once, overwhelmed me. I was never good at juggling multiple things; the pressure often led me to panic attacks.

Sensing my unease, Jensen sat up, his hand gently gripped mine, concern evident in his eyes. "Honey, if you've changed your mind, that's okay."

I looked at him and shook my head, forcing a nervous smile. "No, it's not that. I do want to move with you. It's just... there's so much to do. We have to go to LA to pack, then to New York, and I have to tell my parents, quit my job, sell the house and-"

His concern deepened as he watched me struggle to catch my breath. "Whoa, okay, slow down." Jensen said softly, moving closer to me. He wrapped his arm around me, his hand resting gently on my cheek. "Breathe, baby."

I nodded, trying to steady my breathing. "I'm sorry. I'm just overwhelmed. I'm not good with pressure."

"You're amazing, no matter what." Jensen reassured me, turning me to face him. "We'll handle everything together. You're not alone in this. Remember, I'm handling the flights, I can help make calls about your house, all you have to go is pack and come with me. It's not all on you, alright?"

I nodded gratefully and felt the anxiety slowly leaving my chest, feeling the weight of his words.

Deep down, I knew he was right. I wouldn't have to face any of this alone, It wasn't all going to fall on me while I had Jensen by my side.

I walked through the spacious house, admiring the posters and artwork that decorated the walls. Jensen had gone to talk to Sarah an hour ago, hoping to convince her to let us take the kids to New York. I knew it was a long shot; she had every reason to be cautious and unhappy about her ex husband traveling with their kids to his new girlfriends childhood home, 5 hours away by plane.

My feelings towards Sarah had shifted over time. I once thought of her as intimidating and beautiful, I now had a quiet resentment towards her for hurting Jensen so deeply, to the point where he still thinks I'm going to leave him. Yet, I couldn't deny the love she has for her children, and the way she respected the bond Katie, Kevin and I have been creating, I appreciated that.

Approaching the glass doors leading to an indoor porch, that consisted of a massive wood table, along with chairs and plants. I paused to take in the peaceful view of the lake outside. It quickly became my favourite spot in the house-a perfect place for morning coffee, reading, or just relaxing in Jensen's arms during rainstorms.

Lost in thought, I didn't hear Jensen come in until his arms wrapped around me, causing me to jump slightly. He chuckled softly, apologizing as he held me close.

"How did it go?" I asked nervously.

He smiled sadly and shrugged. "Okay. As well as expected."

My heart sank. "They're not coming, are they?"

Jensen spun me around with a wide smile. "No, they're coming with us. We leave in two days. That gives us enough time to pack and get ready, right?"

He nodded, laughing. "Yeah, they are."

"How did you convince her? Was she really okay with it?" I asked eagerly.

Jensen hesitated, then sighed. "She said no at first. She didn't think it was right to bring the kids to my new girlfriend's house because she didn't know if we would last and she didn't want the kids to get attatched, but I guess I convinced her." He shook his head, smiling nervously. "God damn, I'm embarrassed."

I placed my hand on his, offering a reassuring smile. "You don't have to be. Whatever happened, you can tell me."

He smiled back, squeezing my hand gently, his gaze fixed on the river ahead. "I sort of... uh, broke down. Cried in front of her. Which I haven't done in a very fucking long time."

My heart sank at the thought, but I held my tongue, giving him space to speak.

"After she said no, we argued, as expected. She called me an idiot, said I was selfish and not thinking straight, and I just lost it.... But this time, instead of anger, it all came out in embarrassing tears."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "She looked at me like I'd told her I was dying. So damn surprised. I practically begged her to let me take the kids for a few days. I told her that even if this relationship didn't work out, I needed to try. Because that's what I did for her and me, and it's what I'd do for anyone I love. I fight hard to make it last. I begged her to support me in being happy with you."

I fought back tears as I saw one slip down his cheek, quickly wiping it away, as if he felt ashamed. But to me, I was tremendously proud of him. Proud for standing up for what he believed in and for letting his emotions show instead of his usual anger. It was a huge step, one that must have been incredibly difficult."

"I'm sorry I put you through that. I hope you don't regret having to go through all of it. But Jensen, I am so incredibly proud of you. I can't wait to bring you guys home."

He beamed widely, nodding, and leaned in to kiss my forehead. "I don't regret it. In fact, I think I owe you a thank you."

Confusion filled me as I looked at him, causing him to chuckle lightly, his hand gently touching my cheek.

“I think you helped Sarah and I to let go of our resentment, officially. After I... you know... cried like a baby, she actually comforted me. She hugged me and said she wanted to see me happy. She apologized for her mistakes, and I apologized for mine. And we left each other smiling, instead of shooting death stares. I feel a huge weight off my shoulders, and it’s all because of you.”

I couldn't help but smile wide as I kissed his cheek. “You deserve every good thing, Jensen. You’re an amazing man and an incredible dad. I’m grateful to be a part of your life.”

He leaned in, kissing me softly and passionately, leaving my head spinning. As he pulled back, our foreheads touching, he whispered, “Always. You’ll always be a part of me.”

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 15 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

#jensen ackles x you #jensenxyou #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen and danneel #spn fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean #supernatural one shot #jensen's smile #deanwinchester #spns

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silverstagspirit · 2 years ago

Note

https://at.tumblr.com/silverstagspirit/omg-okay-so-recently-i-read-a-fic-where-yuu/9n2obcj1yat6

Okay I'm the annon from this ask and OMG I JUST REMEMBERED BOOK 2 SAVANACLAW we literally slept there🤩 and they're the category i was also going(but the sleep thing could also extend to the others)

So going with canon and stuff i can just imagen a very stressed lion thinking we're/Yuu is dieing each time they go to sleep keeping him awake. Probably swayed his decision more onto helping us so we get out quicker ☠️ (saved throat ig)

Extra:

HELP I JUST THOUGHT ABOUT OTHER MEMBERS OF THE DORM SENSING SOMETHING IS WRONG THROUGH THE WALL ☠️☠️

could make them loose sleep(make them grouchy), try to talk to us by knocking on the door disrupting our sleep and Leona's ☠️, ect (what makes it funnier to me is that this could apply to not only the Canon characters but NPCs too)

Anyways have a great day ☺️💕 drink some water

I will drink some water anon, thank you. <3

The heart attack we would give leona. That got me thinking.

---------

Leona had just let the herbivore sleep in his dorm. Now he has to share his room for the night?

What a pain.

Walking into the bedroom, the gray furball yaps something that he couldn't care less about. So after telling them to shut up and to not dare wake him, he falls asleep.

Many hours go by in the blink of an eye when he's asleep.

So then, after Ruggie woke him up, he went to get ready for morning training.

But Ruggie stopped talking.

That's odd.

Leona turned around and saw Ruggie standing next to the herbivore.

He had tried to wake them up... but they didn't respond.

That was when he heard it. (Or, in this case, didn't).

The herbivore's heart was not beating.

Both of them began to panic

Someone had died in their dorm.

Grim was panicking along with them. Since it's always Yuu waking them up, he wouldn't know about the deep sleep either.

The comotion reached the rest of the dorm, and now there were Savanaclaw mobs flocking to the dormleader's room to see what was happening.

They eventually heard a small, faint heartbeat from Yuu.

They all froze.

Leona abandoned all dignity and started shaking Yuu awake.

They eventually started to wake up, and they groaned.

Everyone started fretting over them, asking if they were alright.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What happened?"

"Grrrrr. Herbivore, you have quite some nerve."

"Shyihihihihi. Did you get scared, Leona?"

"Shut up! I just didn't want my sheets smelling of dead corpse."

Everyone was asking what the hell happened to Yuu when they noticed they were quite sickly and groggy looking.

Yuu told them through wheezes and groans that they were in deep sleep. The most important time during rest, and because they interrupted it, they would be feeling bad for the next few hours. Maybe even the whole day.

Leona thought it as a suitable enough punishment for embarrassing him like that.

Maybe he should really help them with thier contract after all.

He won't admit it. But when the Prefect goes into deep sleep every night, it freaks him out.

#twisted wonderland #twst #yuu #biology au #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #grim

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kayhi808 · 1 year ago

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Billy Mine - Act 2.13

"She's my bunny."

"Bill, you're awake." Keeping an eye on the angry man I move to brush his hair off his forehead & he gives me a dopey smile that I can't help but return. "How do you feel?"

Shuffling his legs, "I'm good."

"You're not good. You took a bullet." The man stands at the foot of Bill's bed, arms folded across this chest, biceps bulging. If you're trying to intimidate me, you win, guy.

"Oooh. Yeah. I did. Yup, I'm not good." Bill nods at me.

I turn to the man, "Juliet Ellis," extending my hand, controling it from shaking, "And you are?"

"Frank Castle," his warm hand wraps around mine, "Juliet?"

"Bunny! Her name is Bunny!" Bill looks disgruntled.

"Shhhhh." Turning back to Bill, resting my fingers against his lips. Bill's dark gaze meets mine. His eyes are normally so dark I didn't notice it right away, his pupils are almost pinpoints.

"Keep it down, man."

Cradling his goofy smiling face, "Hon, they got you on some strong meds, don't they?" Bill closes his eyes and sighs.

Frank laughs, a low rumble, "He's high as hell. He's not feeling a thing."

Turning to Frank, "Bill's told me about you. He calls you his brother. Do you know if he's going to be ok? They wouldn't tell me anything because I'm not family."

"It wasnt a clean shot. They had to go in, remove the bullet. It broke off in pieces so they had to find it all. They gave him some blood. He lost quite a bit, but he's good for a full recovery. Since its late, they said they'll keep him overnight. They're readying a room for him now."

Nodding & wiping away tears of relief, "Thank you."

"Bill's told me about you, too." Noticing your stolen hospital gown, "Have you been admitted? Were you hurt? I was told only Bill and another agent was injured."

"You're hurt?!" Bill jerks awake, "Fuck!" Clenching his teeth at agrivating his injury, groaning, Frank moves over to firmly pin him back down to the bed.

"I'm fine. I'm not hurt." Bill now notices your hospital gown. "I had to find you, so I stole these to wear. They wouldn't let me back here, so i needed to blend in. Pinkie promise, I'm ok." I squeeze his hand.

"Still an escape artist."

Whispering, "Nothing will keep me apart from you, Billy Mine." You kiss his forehead & he closes his eyes and settles.

You hear a commotion outside & a harried nurse walks in glaring at you, "Ms Ellis? You aren't allowed back here."

"It's ok. She's family."

"Well, the Senator is outside looking for her now," shooting me a well deserved glare.

"Shit." I'm torn between leaving Bill and facing my Dad.

"Go take care of that. If they move him, I'll make sure they give you his room number. He'll be fine."

"Thank you, Frank." You drop another kiss to Billy's brow and squeeze Frank's arm as you pass him to head outside.

*****

The New York skies took to storming after the attack at the fundraiser. I zone out watching the rain hit the window pane & water beads racing down the glass. It calms me. I concentrate on that and then my brain won't overthink how it feels like its my fault that Billy got hurt. The steady beep of the heart monitor is also strangely soothing. It proves to me that Bill is alive & well. Mom brought me some of my own clothes to wear. Dad & that one nurse are not happy with my "shenanigans" but I'll deal with that later. Ugh.

The nurses are in every couple of hours to check his vitals. Thankfully he's slept through them, and the nurses say he's fine.

I pulled a couple chairs together to form a little makeshift bed for myself. I wanted to stay with Bill. Frank left once Bill was transferred to this room. He'll return before Bill gets discharged in the morning.

*****

I don't know when I finally fell asleep, but I wake upon hearing the motor to Billy's bed. He's awake & trying to sit up. "Bun, what are you doing here?"

I jump up ready to help him adjust his pillows to make him more comfortable. He groans in pain & swings his legs off the bed. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

"I need to take a piss. You want to help me with that?"

Such a wise-ass, "Do you need help? I can have them fit you for a catheter." He gives me a sneer but places his hand on my shoulder to stand. It takes him a bit to get his balance. In a softer tone, "Are you ok, Bill?" He doesn't answer me, but grabs his IV cart & shoves me hard enough so I fall back on his bed. "Don't move."

While Bill's in the small bathroom, I try to straighten up his blankets, fluff his pillows, pour some water for him if he's thirsty. I have a bunch of nervous energy.

He comes back out and I debate asking if he needs help. I don't want to smother him, but I don't know how to help. He returns to bed and there's a light sheen of perspirations on his brow. He leans back against his pillow, a little out of breath. I wipe his brow & offer him water, which he takes. "Thank you." Looking at my wonky chairs, "You spent the night on that? Why didn't you go home?"

Shaking my head, "I couldn't. You were here. I didn't want you to be alone when you woke up," my eyes tear up and my voice pitches higher. (I absolutely HATE when it does that.) "What if something happened to you and I wasn't here?" I choke on a sob.

"Aw, sweetheart, c'mere." I start ugly crying before I can stop myself. Billy holds out his good arm to me and grabs a hold of my shirt and pulls me to him. He maneuvers the IV tubing out of the way and fits me on the bed so I'm cradled to his side. All he can do is lean his cheek on the top of my head, "Stop babe, you're breaking my heart."

"You got hurt because of me. I could have lost you again and I don't think I could survive that," shaking my head. Trying to make him see reason.

"Bunny, this was not your fault.. This is the job...."

"Then I don't want you doing jobs like this." Bill laughs & then groans. "See!" I get up so he can have more room & not jostle his wound.

"Look, I know it was scary but I'm ok. We're ok. We'll talk about this later, alright? For now, I just want to hold my girl." He pouts & makes grabby hands with his good arm until I get close enough for him to grab my shirt again & pulls me down to his side. I could have put up more of a fight, but I wanted nothing more than to have Billy Mine in my arms again.

@idaofinfinity @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @e-dubbc11 @russosafehaven @bustlingcrowdsxorxsilentsleepers @snowkestrel @jvanilly @terry2227

#billy russo #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy mine x bunny girl #billy mine #billy x juliet

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dandelion-wings · 2 years ago

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Another little prequel to the "Jean marries the Khaenri'ahan 'prince'" AU, which I have told myself I cannot write until I finish the Open Hand sequel, but which continues to rotate in my head regardless.

---

In the wake of Ursa's attack, Jean does her best not to intrude upon Diluc and Kaeya's grief. She writes them both letters, hoping, in her private heart of hearts, that they'll be willing to ask her for comfort, but all she receives in return is a polite thank-you from one of the servants for her condolences. The message seems clear: they prefer to be alone together. It's been years since Jean has let herself be jealous of their private bond.

Kaeya's resignation arrives at the Ordo the same day, a brief, unusually terse note in his elegant handwriting pinned to his folded uniform jacket. The writing on the packaging is also a servant's, neither his nor Diluc's, and it's another servant from the Dawn Winery who delivers it, as he had the thank-you note. Jean is disappointed but not surprised. Diluc has never taken back a declaration, no matter whether made in anger or not, and Kaeya has always followed where Diluc leads.

Any temptation to trek to the Dawn Winery regardless is sidelined by new duties, as the Grand Master assigns her an investigation that it seems has been long coming. They plan it in secret at first, for if the Inspector is truly a traitor, he will surely try to hide his activities once he knows. The Grand Master tells her he'll write to the Ragnvindrs to let them know she's on the job. Jean hopes that will comfort them--that they'll have enough faith left in her to believe she can redeem their father's name, whatever they think of the Knights.

The day after the Grand Master sends that letter, Diluc writes to her, asking her to come visit at last.

When Jean arrives, he's pacing through the vines closest to the Winery's entrance, a shadow over his face. He looks up almost in surprise when he sees her and strides over, shoulders relaxing in a way she wants to believe is relief. Though his expression clears, he doesn't seem quite able to smile.

"Jean," he says, and that *is* relief, almost a sigh. "Come inside."

He starts to beckon her to follow as he turns towards the manor, then catches himself and pauses to hold out his arm. Jean, about to fall in beside him as has been her habit, hesitates a moment before taking it. They're not both captains walking side-by-side about the Ordo anymore. He's acting as the master of the Dawn Winery should towards a guest. For the first time, it truly feels like he's not just on leave, like he's truly not coming back.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Jean takes his arm and lets him conduct her up the hill and into the manor. He leads her straight into his father's office. It's a mess, completely torn apart, every drawer open and papers spread all about. She can't make out any purpose to the disarray.

It's almost, but not quite, enough to distract Jean from the absence that's been itching at her since she walked through the gates.

"Where's Kaeya?"

Diluc lets go of her arm like he'd been burned, the shadow falling back over his face. "He left."

"Is he running an errand for you?" That fits neither the words nor the expression, but it's the only explanation Jean can imagine regardless. Kaeya would *never* leave Diluc in such a state.

"No." Diluc turns away from her, starting to straighten papers. "We fought. The night that Father died. I- he left that night. Adelinde found his jacket and the resignation in the morning."

His voice has gone completely flat, the way it does when he's exhausted or overwhelmed. The way it used to so often be, before Kaeya came into his life. Jean feels a chill.

"What was it about?"

"Family affairs." The flatness gives her no clues, no cracks to wedge into.

"I'm sorry," Jean says, because however he might sound, she can see how stiff his back has gone, the way his head is bowed over the papers he's ruffled just to straighten again. "You could have asked the Knights to help find him. I'm sure he couldn't have made it entirely out of the country in one night."

"They would have had to drag him back like a criminal. I considered it. But if he wanted to leave, I wasn't going to stop him." Diluc sets the paper and turns back to her. "I burned him, Jean."

His expression is as flat as his voice, betraying nothing, but the tension still thrums through him. He has his shoulders thrown back and his chin up like he's facing the Grand Master for a disciplinary hearing, ready to defend his decisions but braced to be penalized. Jean thinks of his Vision, thrown down with his jacket when he stormed out of the Ordo despite being unarguably his own, and her chest aches for him.

Long ago, before Kaeya had ever arrived, when he'd first received his Vision, Diluc had accidentally burned her. It had been in a fit of temper, but it had been an accident all the same; she remembers the surprise on his face, the shock turning to horror when he realized she was hurt. He still winces when he sees her with her shoulders bare, even though the scar has long faded to nothing but a faint smoothness of her skin. He's never once let his temper flare in flames again. Either the fight had been *that* serious, or-

Or he'd been in pain, overwhelmed by grief, and his control had slipped. That seems more likely. And Kaeya, who had only ever known Diluc's ironclad control, might have taken it as more than it was.

"Badly?"

"Not badly enough to keep him from leaving," Diluc says, almost sharp, and then adds, "or to make Adelinde insist when he brushed her off. No worse than we might get from a hilichurl skirmish."

Jean relaxes. That's not bad at all.

"If he left the country, there would be a record, either at the Stone gate or at Dornman Port. I could check them both," she offers. Surely Diluc will want to know--and she wants to know, herself, even if she's sure he wouldn't have gone so far. The reassurance would be welcome. "I'm sure he doesn't hold the fight against you now that he's had time to calm down. He may be concerned that you're still angry-" Diluc has always held a grudge "-but if he's reassured in that regard, of course he would come home."

"No. I know he left Mondstadt. He said as much. And if he had stayed, he would have gone to you."

Diluc says that with such immutable certainty that Jean is almost warmed by it, before the first part of the statement sinks in. Another chill goes through her. Whatever burns were inflicted might be preoccupying Diluc, but surely there was more than that if Kaeya had gone so far as to truly *leave*. She badly wants to know more about this fight.

Before she can ask, though, Diluc turns back to the papers again, this time picking up a stack and holding it out to her. "Along with the resignation, he left these. I suppose he thought I could use them. But since Grand Master Varka informs me that you're investigating Eroch, you can put them to better use."

Jean takes the papers, glancing through them. They're in Kaeya's hand. She recognizes names, senior members of the Ordo and its administration, and various notes about their interconnections, interactions with each other and Inspector Eroch, and various activities and behaviors that she reads with growing suspicion. None of it is conclusive, but it ties into her own investigation alarmingly well. What's here suggests that the rot has spread far beyond the Inspector himself.

"This is months- no, *years* of work," she murmurs, still flipping through.

"Kept secret the whole time," Diluc says, his voice flattening again. "For whatever purpose."

Jean looks up at him, catching a faint anger in the set of his brow and jaw. Truly, nothing here is conclusive; she can tell why Kaeya would have held it back. He's always liked to have every detail lined up perfectly before he executes a plan. But she can understand why Diluc would be angry, too. If the Inspector had been exposed sooner, so much might have gone differently. Given what's in here, and what she's starting to uncover herself, perhaps even their father's death might have been averted.

"Was this why you fought?"

Diluc hesitates a long moment. "In part," he says at last.

Her heart aches all over again for both of them. She sets the papers down, carefully, on an open spot on the desk, and steps forward with her arms out. It's been a long time since it was proper for the two of them to embrace each other as friends. But he's not a fellow-knight any longer, to be strictly professional with, and there's no one else here to worry about propriety. Diluc looks at her in confusion for a moment, then sighs and steps into her arms.

She holds him tight as he presses his face into her shoulder. He remains tense a little longer, then clutches her back, his shoulders shaking. Jean rubs his back and pretends not to feel the tears dampening her neck, or hear the strangled little sobs. He clings to her for long enough that by the time he composes himself and pulls away, eyes only a little red, she's been able to blink away her own tears.

"It will be all right," she tells him, taking his hands. "I'll make sure that Eroch and anyone associated with him are exposed for their misdeeds. And whatever has happened between you, Kaeya loves you. He will surely come home eventually."

"Perhaps," is all Diluc says. He swallows once, then slowly pulls his hands from hers. "If he does, he may come to you instead of Adelinde. I would ask you to be... cautious, around him. He has resigned from the Knights, so don't involve him in their affairs."

"Of course." She'll be as careful as Kaeya needs. "But what do you mean, instead of Adelinde? You'll be here. I know you regret fighting, but he will forgive you for it."

"I won't be here. I'm leaving." Diluc glances away. "The sorceress Alice wrote me to suggest that I travel. She was an associate of my father's, and he always said that her advice was good. It seems possible that her letter was... a hint."

"You're going to find Kaeya?"

"Not only that. There is evidence in my father's papers that the Fatui may be behind his death. I intend to pursue them and learn the truth of that." His hands tighten into fists at his sides. "Then I will deal with them appropriately."

The diplomatic ramifications of his statement arise immediately in Jean's mind. She should talk him out of that, or if she can't, immediately tell the Grand Master so that he can have Diluc stopped. But if Alice, who is so knowledgeable, has advised him- if the Fatui, whom the Knights can only grit their teeth and pretend to deal pleasantly with, *were* involved- if perhaps *that's* why Kaeya left, after all, and Diluc is merely misreading his flight, and might meet him on his path-

"I can retrieve your Vision for you," she says, instead of anything else that she should.

"No. I do know how it would look for a former Knight to go rogue in such a way. Whatever I feel about the Knights as a whole, I won't put you in that position. I'll travel under an assumed name, and it would be better not to fight in a way that could too obviously be connected to my service as a Knight."

Of course he's already considered all of that. Jean musters a smile. It's weak, because it's sinking in, now, that her best friend is leaving her behind. No, she corrects herself, trusting her to take care of affairs in his absence. He wouldn't have given her Kaeya's notes, and wouldn't be leaving Mondstadt to its own devices, if he didn't think she could root out the rot in the Knights and keep the city safe. It doesn't matter how lonely she might be without him when she has that trust to fulfill.

"Then travel safely, and take care," she tells him.

"Don't worry about me. Take care of yourself. You'll be facing dangers of your own."

"I will," Jean promises. "Write to me during your travels. If you let me know how to address my letters, I'll be sure to write back."

"I will," Diluc says, meeting her gaze, and Jean feels the weight of his statement. This declaration, too, she knows he won't take back.

She meets his gaze in return. "Good luck."

Jean tries to imbue in those words all of her love for him, how honored she is by his trust, her determination to handle the treason within the Ordo and all of the duties he's leaving behind. Some of that must come through, because he smiles, if faintly, in return.

"Good luck to you, as well."

That faint smile accompanies her all the way home, papers under her arm, new plans for the investigation forming in her mind and determination burning in her breast. It isn't much to hold against the loneliness of doing this alone, without her closest friends at her side. But her feelings are nothing compared to what both of them must be going through. Jean will be certain that there's a better, prouder Mondstadt waiting for their return, and that will have to be enough. That, and the prayer that they will, someday, return, alive and safe.

#fic bits #jean and diluc taste like dusty wine #in a windless land

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binnie-bitch · 2 years ago

Text

'Lock Our Love' - Chapter 2

AO3 Link - Masterpost Pairing: Seo Changbin/Johnny Suh Tags: Strangers to Lovers, First Meetings, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut Chapter Word Count: 4k Status: Ongoing Summary: 'NCT Johnny and Stray Kids Changbin caught in dating rumors' Johnny blinked. He read over it again, rubbed his eyes, and read again. "What the fuck?" "You have to read everything,” Doyoung said, giving his phone over. Johnny glanced up at him, then over at Taeyong, who looked absolutely miserable. Johnny's own mind was going as slow as a snail trying to comprehend what was written on the screen. It had to be a joke. It had to be. No matter how Johnny twisted the words in his mind, they didn't make any sense. Taking a deep breath, he scrolled down. ~~~~ Johnny and Changbin are rumored to be dating, even though they have never talked before. But then they do talk. Then they become friends. The next step seems inevitable for them. But can they survive when all eyes are on them? A/N: I forgot to say at the beginning of the first chapter, but I started writing this at the beginning of december and so I ignored some things that happened the last few months for the sake of the plot, mostly world tours and that one incident where some of the 127 members got hurt during a photoshoot. I just generally played a little fast and loose with the timeline, and also who in NCT knows who in Stray Kids. This fic is so self indulgent, my dudes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For years, Changbin had been worried about getting involved in a scandal. And then it happened and he decided it wasn’t a big deal. Sure, he had a bit of a heart attack when Jisung bursted into the kitchen early in the morning. Changbin also wished he would wake up from whatever nightmare he found himself in when he had read the article. But denial was a powerful tool, and Changbin had become quite talented with it.

Everyone assured him. Even when the second article came out, Changbin told himself it was fine. As long as the company didn't deem it worthy of their attention, it wasn't a big deal.

Except, it very much was. As Changbin stared at the picture of some random couple that only vaguely looked like him and Johnny, he worried. The moment people started lying, it could only get worse. It opened the floodgates and before Changbin could find a place to hide, the water would rise and drag him away.

Changbin smiled with every question. Each bit of assurance. The way everyone pitied him. He smiled, because that’s what he always did.

All the while, anxiety crawled under his skin like a colony of ants that Changbin couldn't shake off. Sleep turned out to be almost impossible. His mind kept wandering to all kinds of what-ifs. None of the songs he wrote during that time had any value. No rhythm or rhyme. Just mindless ramblings that were buried in the depths of Changbin’s closet with all his other failures.

Actually meeting Johnny in a random bathroom at a music show seemed surreal. For a moment, Changbin thought his sleep deprivation had finally caught up to him. Maybe he had finally succumbed to the hallucinations Wooyoung had warned him about. Even as he talked with Johnny, the reality of it all didn't quite settle in until later that day in bed.

The first message made it all too real.

[NCT Johnny] 'I'm sorry if I was a little too forward. I can delete your number again, if you want.'

Changbin took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes. He typed out an answer. He deleted the whole thing. Rinse and repeat. Nothing quite felt like the appropriate answer. It didn't seem right to tell his senior to never talk to him again. Especially because Changbin respected him so much, and just exchanging numbers didn't mean anything. A lot of idols he wouldn't consider friends had his number. So many of whom he had only texted once, then never again.

But the possibility was there. Changbin walked on a tightrope with no net underneath him. But he was already on it, he might as well go all the way.

[Dwaekki] 'It's okay. I'm not gonna complain about a chance to talk to you.'

That wasn’t the correct response either, but there was only so long Changbin could write and delete until it became suspicious. If Johnny was even bothering to stare at the little bubble that indicated Changbin’s struggles.

The immediate answer hit like a punch in the throat.

[NCT Johnny] 'Yeah? Have you already fallen madly in love with me?'

Changbin choked on his own spit, falling into a whole coughing fit. It was bad enough that Chan asked through the wall if Changbin was okay. He wasn't. Not at all, but he gave the wall a thumbs up, yelling a quick "All good" back.

Taking a deep breath, he looked back down at his phone. Although, reading the message for a second time didn't help.

[Dwaekki] 'You're really chill about this whole thing'

[NCT Johnny] 'Yo, chiller than Elsa.' 'I don't think anything else is gonna happen' 'Just think about how this is bringing us together. Two talented and handsome rappers.'

Changbin chuckled, relaxing into his pillows. He relaxed! For the first time since that first article came out, Changbin's heart beat a little lighter. Unlike everyone else, who could easily preach about not worrying, Johnny was sitting in the boat with Changbin. Him saying they wouldn't drown eased the fear of the cold waters.

[Dwaekki] 'Thanks, hyung.'

A happy emoji was all he got in return, but it mattered more than Changbin liked to admit. He wasn't going to worry about the dizzying height or the deep abyss if it meant finding a new friend.

Everything was going to turn out fine anyway. Stray Kids had survived worse. Changbin had survived worse. Overreacting wasn't going to help him. Frankly, it was embarrassing when the other person involved didn't seem to be swayed at all by everything.

It was just a rumor at the end of the day. The world would forget about it the moment a different idol gets caught in a scandal.

~~~~~~~~

Another article released the day they had an interview for their upcoming comeback. Changbin caught it at breakfast. Just more baseless speculation, repeating what people said on twitter, mentioning the lack of statement. As if that was proof of anything.

Yet, even later on in the dressing room, preparing for the interview, Changbin was still hung up on it. Like trying to find the answer to the meaning of life, he read every comment and twitter post. Encouragement. Insults. A whole spectrum of opinions about Changbin’s personal life.

"Stop reading this," Jisung said as he snatched Changbin's phone.

"I should know what's being said about me."

"No, because it's all fake anyway." Jisung skimmed over the article with a deepening frown. "They still believe that dumb picture is real. I hope the company finally makes a statement, so this rumor can die."

"Can I have my phone back now?"

"Promise you won't look at this shit again?"

"Language, Hannie. We're in public."

Jisung stuck out his tongue like the child he was. Changbin retaliated with a mocking mimic of the gesture, earning himself a slap on his outstretched hand.

"Ya! You little brat!"

Changbin jumped to his feet. He reached for his phone, but Jisung ducked away.

"Language, hyung!"

At his second attempt, Changbin caught Jisung by the collar. He yanked him closer. Jisung twisted until they were chest to back. Changbin wrapped his arms tighter around the other's torso, grabbing at Jisung's wrists. All it did was make Jisung curl further into himself. Curses and laughter filled the space until they were both on their knees, breathless, sweaty. Jisung begged for a truce. Changbin used the moment of weakness, and stole his phone back. Gasping, Jisung fell forward on all fours, laughing and catching his breath.

Changbin huffed.

"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"Aww, hyung, I love you too~"

Jisung only laughed more at the slap on the arm. Eventually, Changbin joined in. They only stopped when one of the stylists got them both back into their chairs to fix anything damaged by their little wrestling match.

Unperturbed by the hands fussing over his hair, Changbin put his attention back on his phone. The article was closed. Instead, Changbin was greeted by a message from Johnny. A smile creeped onto his face as he opened the chat. A quick 'Good luck' with a follow-up message complaining about his dance practice.

It only had been somewhat over a week, but with them using any free minute to text, they had already gotten pretty close. So Changbin bravely teased Johnny about him possibly dancing shirtless. He had seen the clips of Johnny doing it before.

There was no instant reply this time. Regret settled in record time.

Then a picture opened up in the chat. One that had Changbin slam his phone to his chest. He looked around. The stylist was already gone again, and Jisung was occupied with annoying Hyunjin.

Swallowing, Changbin dared another glimpse at the picture. A selfie, to be exact, of Johnny in the dance practice room in front of the mirror. Another member was sitting in the background, slumped over his phone. Changbin wondered who, but he knew he was only trying to distract himself from the real issue at hand.

Johnny's bare chest and stomach.

Warm toned skin stretched over a slim torso, and firm lines of muscles. Sweat glistened where the light hit Johnny's shoulders perfectly. Some of his tattoo peeked out along his biceps, trailing to his collarbone, enticing the viewer to look closer. He had one hand in his hair, caught in the motion of ruffling the black mess. Most of his face was hidden by the phone, but Changbin recognized the sharp jawline peeking underneath.

Changbin inhaled deeply. All kinds of very inappropriate thoughts twirled in his mind. None of them were any help for what he could have said in return. Just another reminder that Changbin couldn't take what he liked to give, no matter how much he thought he could. But teasing was a two way street, and Johnny hadn't exactly been shy at any point. If Changbin wasn't suffering because of it, he would have admired that boldness.

Thankfully, an excuse came in the form of Bang Chan, who called all his members together. Changbin slipped his phone into his bag and joined the group.

"Everyone ready?" Chan asked.

Agreement hushed through the crowd, some more enthusiastic than others. Changbin tried to be part of the first group. Tried. But his heart was running a marathon, his mind close behind as fear crashed over him. He tried to think about Johnny, about one of the jokes he had made this morning, but as Changbin sat down, everything melted away under the blinding lights.

As if he had never done interviews before. It was the same old set up. Two rows of chairs, Changbin squeezed in the front between Hyunjin and Jeongin, with some guy he would never see again seated before them. Most of the staff wasn't even listening, focused on keeping everything running. Besides, all the questions had to go through their manager first.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

"Please," the interviewer waved towards them, "tell us about your new album."

Predictable.

Changbin adjusted his posture, following the eyes of the other members as they decided on the sacrifice. It ended up being Minho, who gave the barest, and easiest answer possible. Chan added a few words just to fill some more space.

"Every song explores a different type of love. They all have a unique sound, which hopefully means STAYs will find at least one they enjoy."

The interviewer hummed, smiling, drawing out the moment as he waited for anyone else to say something. When they didn't, he chuckled a little.

"I assume all of them are focused on romantic love, yes?"

"Yes, in a way," Chan carefully said.

"How much experience do you guys have with this?"

Changbin stiffened. Looking around, he found that he wasn't the only one taken aback. Jeongin and Jisung exchanged panicked glances with the older members. Some gave restrained laughs for the sake of being polite, but even the manager’s eyes bulged with shock.

"Well, experience is a difficult thing to define, isn't it?" Felix laughed nervously.

"Is it?" The interviewer raised an eyebrow.

A cold shiver chased down Changbin's spine as their eyes met.

"There has been a lot of speculation about you, Changbin-ssi. Do you want to give a comment on the matter?"

Changbin's heart sank.

The interviewer smiled as he continued.

"I'm sure you want to clear things up about the whole affair. Most importantly about the question if you're gay, right?"

Changbin opened his mouth. All that came out was a heavy exhale, like someone had punched all the air from his lungs. Heat crawled into his cheeks. A million ants under his skin. They filled his throat and chest, weighing on his breath. The lights seemed to get brighter, and his vision blurred, but he blinked through it, desperate to stay focused.

This was nothing. So simple. Inhale. Exhale.

"I don't think this is appropriate to ask," Chan said, frowning.

This seemed to wake the manager up as well and he walked over to the interviewer. They exchanged a few words, too quiet to catch everything, especially with the blood rushing in Changbin's ear.

As the two men parted, the interviewer pursed his lips. It immediately switched back to a smile, and he looked down at his notes.

"Well, let's move on to the last question then-"

As the man continued, his voice fizzled into white noise.

Changbin gripped the edge of his seat, as if he could slip if he let go. He swallowed against the sick sensation crawling up his throat. Everything seemed to pull away from him, and only a small voice in the back of his head reminded him to stay cool. The sweat running down his forehead could be blamed on the lights. No one could hear his heart rattling against his ribcage. They only saw his pressed lips, not the clenched teeth behind.

This was nothing. It didn't matter.

Changbin powered through the last bit of saying goodbye to everyone. The interviewer gave him a weird look. Everyone seemed to stare. Like the jury in a court, deciding Changbin's fate. It was Chan's gentle hand on his back that kept Changbin grounded. The warmth of his palm burned along his spine like a reminder.

Makeup off. Clothing changes. One more word with the manager. The car drive home. It all flitted by in a haze. Changbin knew it all so well, sparing no thought for his actions as he got swept along with it all. He was only vaguely aware of the way his members looked at him. He caught their quiet assurances and gentle touches, but none of it stuck.

The front door closed on its own behind them as they stepped into the dorm. Chan took a deep, very audible breath. Both Jisung and Hyunjin looked at him fully, while Changbin only gave a side glance. With the exhale, Chan threw his bag on the couch.

"What the fuck was this guy's problem?”

"Hyung-" Jisung tried.

"Fuck that dude!" Chan continued. "Our fucking manager explicitly told him not to ask anything about the rumors! Did he really think we were gonna tell him anything?"

The three at the door watched their leader pace up and down the room. His curses switched between English and Korean in no clear rhythm. While Hyunjin looked a lot more concerned, Jisung cowered against the wall. Any other time, Changbin would have stopped Chan. Then Chan would have apologized to Jisung. He would have calmed him down. Everything would have been fine.

But Changbin's throat tightened as he opened his mouth.

Glancing at Jisung, then at Hyunjin, Changbin gave them both an apologetic look. He bowed his head, and walked away. Almost immediately, Chan's rambles died. They were replaced by Changbin’s name. Chan’s steps echoed close behind Changbin, his voice careful.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Changbin said.

"We should-"

"I don't want to!"

Changbin swallowed, taken aback himself by the strength behind his words. Chan stopped a few meters away. They stared at each other for a moment. Concern tugged at every corner of Chan's face, weighing guilt on Changbin's heart when he looked away. He slipped into his room, shutting the door, and locking it. Gentle knocking echoed through the wood. Chan called out to him, but Changbin ignored it.

He leaned against the door, heart jumping in his chest. Soft footsteps reached him from the hallway. Hyunjin's hushed voice followed, but the words drowned in the white noise buzzing in Changbin’s ears.

He slid down the door all the way down to the floor. The moment he was sitting, he shuddered with the first sob. Squeezing his eyes shut, Changbin took a shaky breath. Tears stained his palm as he rubbed a hand over his face. He stared at the damp spots in the dim light of his room, frowning.

Changbin wiped away some of the tears with his sweater sleeve, swallowing, breathing deeply. Looking down, he realized he was still wearing his street shoes. He sighed. Absently kicking them off, he pulled out his phone from his almost forgotten bag, and unlocked the screen. Immediately, he was greeted by more messages from Johnny.

A weak smile tugged at Changbin’s lips.

[NCT Johnny] 'Yo, you good?’ ‘Did I scare you? Sorry' 'Was it too much?' 'Is your interview going well?' 'Taeil just rambled about fanta again' 'Did you know fanta was invented in germany?' 'If I drink any more, I'm gonna fucking puke'

The last message was a picture of a half empty Fanta bottle. One of Johnny's big hands was wrapped around the body, thumbnail picking at the label edge. Changbin gave in to the smile, sniffing.

[Dwaekki] 'I like the picture' 'The one from dance practice' 'But the bottle one too'

Almost immediately, the messages were marked as seen. Changbin's heart skipped a beat. He gripped his phone tighter, watching the bubble at the bottom.

Had Johnny waited the whole time for Changbin to text back? Or was he just conveniently on his phone?

Changbin shook his head. What did it matter? It shouldn't. It was dangerous thinking.

[NCT Johnny] 'Please drink the fanta for me’ ‘I can't take much more' 'How was your interview tho?'

How was the interview? Changbin leaned his head back, one hand pressed to his chest. He counted each beat of his heart, his breathing naturally falling into rhythm. Looking back down at his phone, he hesitated.

But Johnny would understand.

[Dwaekki] 'It was terrible. The guy asked about the rumors'

[NCT Johnny] 'For real???' 'People need to learn how to mind their own damn business' 'You okay?'

[Dwaekki] 'Not really'

The second Changbin sent that answer, he wanted to take it back. They weren't that close, no matter what had brought them together in the first place, but his fingers had typed faster than his mind could consider. He was ready to apologize and insist he was actually okay. But the screen lit up, and he froze.

A call. From Johnny.

Changbin's thumb hovered over the answer button. Something hot crawled up along his spine, igniting a new surge of energy like a runner’s high. He couldn't say what it was. He didn't want to say. He didn't have the time.

The call ended and Changbin immediately started another one. Johnny picked up only a split second later.

"Hey," Johnny said.

"Hey, Hyung."

"And here I thought you don't wanna talk to me."

"Ah, sorry. I was just surprised."

Johnny hummed. Another voice echoed in the background, asking who Johnny was calling. A yelp followed, and the stranger complained about a pillow getting dirty.

"Get out! Go bother someone else.”

A pause.

“I don't care!"

The unknown voice mocked Johnny's tone, but the words itself didn't quite reach through the phone. A door slammed shut, Johnny called the other person a brat. Silence. Changbin just got back on his feet when Johnny cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'm finally alone."

Changbin huffed a small chuckle. "Who was it?"

"Jaehyun. He's hiding from Yuta."

"Oh?"

Changbin vaguely knew the other NCT members from everything the others have told him. And also from the few - many - searches online to find out more about Johnny.

"Something about pudding," Johnny said, "I think Jaehyun ate Yuta's last one. Oh? Yuta is yelling-"

There indeed was a loud voice somewhere in the background. Changbin listened carefully. Johnny probably did too. It was hard to make out anything, and Changbin quickly gave up, sitting down on his bed instead. Exhaustion hit him instantly, awakened by the soft mattress. He laid back with a soft sigh.

"Well," Johnny finally said, "Jaehyun is dead. Very sad. Anyway."

Changbin laughed, body shaking with the sudden burst. A soft noise of surprise spilled through the phone.

"I can still hear Yuta yelling. It was definitely about the pudding," Johnny continued.

He sounded much more cheerful than his words warranted.

"Isn't it way too late to yell?" Changbin asked.

"It wouldn't be our first noise complaint. Though, I think our neighbors gave up after Taeil got into metal."

"Sounds fun."

The image of Johnny throwing a hand over his chest flashed before Changbin's eyes as Johnny sighed overly dramatic.

"You have no idea. Enough about the others though. How are you, Bunny?"

Changbin choked. "B-bunny?"

"Oh. Is that okay? I read about your little furry personas and Dwaekki is cute."

"Right. Yeah. It is. Bunny is okay."

Maybe. Hopefully. Changbin couldn't be entirely sure.

"Cool, cool," Johnny continued, the smirk shining through his tone. "So, how are you, bunny?"

"Good."

"Yeah? Thanks to me?"

"Maybe," Changbin said, equally smug as Johnny.

The older man's deep laugh rumbled through the phone, chasing a shiver down Changbin's spine. He put a hand over his chest, sinking deeper into the mattress. His heart stuttered in sync with Johnny humming.

"If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always call me," Johnny said.

His voice dripped like rich dark chocolate, melting right into Changbin's ear.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The other members- I'm sure they're great friends, but I assume you don't want to burden them with your problems. I also better understand what you're going through."

"Obviously," Changbin whispered.

"Obviously," Johnny chuckled softly.

"You can talk to me too, if you need it," Changbin said.

"Thanks. I like talking to you, bunny."

There it was again, the low voice that had Changbin's heart skip a beat. It burned itself deeper into his mind with every word. Like everything else about Johnny. From his intense gaze in the bathroom, to his incredible body, Johnny had dug himself a hole in Changbin's brain like it was fine sand. His voice was just yet another part that pulled at the tightrope Changbin was walking on, threatening to push him off.

Changbin took a deep breath.

"I like talking to you too, hyung."

"Good. You should get some rest now. I need to see if Yuta has snapped and killed everyone."

Changbin snorted, shaking his head. "Be careful, then."

"Always! I'm the final girl of this movie."

"Aren't final girls normally virgins?"

Johnny gasped dramatically. "I need to hide. Wish me luck."

"Fighting!"

And with that, the call ended.

Silence wrapped heavily around Changbin much faster than he could prepare for. He swallowed, and glanced at his phone where Johnny's chat had opened up again. Before his mind could wander again, he scrolled up.

Changbin stopped at the dance practice picture for only a moment, now sure it was Mark sitting in the background. He continued his journey through their excessive text exchange to a picture from the day before. Also a selfie, but this time of Johnny sitting in a cafe, holding a mug. A wink accompanied his smirk, framed by his soft, long hair.

[NCT Johnny] 'The coffee is awful' 'But Jungwoo likes one of the waiters’ ‘He gets too nervous and I'm forced to come along' 'The things we do as hyungs'

Re-reading the messages, seeing Johnny's smile, it had a pleasant warmth bloom in Changbin's chest. Between all the schedules for their comeback, and his worries about the rumors, Johnny was exactly what Changbin needed.

Because Johnny was right. Changbin didn't want to go to his members with his problems. They had enough on their plates. He didn't want them to add by worrying about him.

Besides, Johnny was nice. Funny. Handsome. Talented-

Changbin was fucked, but he wasn't sure of the awareness of it made it better or worse. At least he knew about it and so had the opportunity to go against it. He wasn't that easy. This wasn't a drama. Love at first sight was a myth.

#stray kids fanfiction #nct fanfiction #changbin fanfiction #johnny fanfiction #stray kids #nct #nct 127 #changbin #johnny #fanfiction

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wordsinhaled · 2 years ago

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something something established relationship shenanigans ~*~ there was more i wanted to add to this, but i had to wallop a pretty impressive bout of imposter syndrome into submission to post this, so i'm just gonna let it float off down the river the way it is <3

Hob wakes up with his mind already on Dream.

He pictures Dream getting his morning coffee—holding the steaming cup, lid off, the “M” in “Morfius” scribbled on the side peeking out from beneath his grip. They do tend to misspell it, Hob's noticed, in some occasionally tragic ways.

Dream would scoff and say, “This is precisely why I tell them my name is Murphy..." Hob would get his pen out of his shirt pocket and correct Dream's name for him. The ink would feather on the styrofoam, of course, and he'd probably need to tune the nib later, but it'd be worth it for the lift in Dream's forlorn expression, for the tiny satisfied smile it earned.

Hob’s thoughts drift to Dream during his lectures, too.

He remembers how they’d sat up in Hob’s bed together one evening earlier in the week while Hob skimmed through the assigned reading and marked pages in the book with sticky note flags to correspond to his discussion questions. How Dream had said to him, eventually, “You should not do your work in bed, Hob. Beds are to be used for sleep.”

How Dream’s hand had wandered up Hob’s thigh under the covers and curled around his hip, and he'd rubbed small circles there with his thumb, until Hob had looked over at him, and put down his book at last, and said, amused, “Your mind seems a bit far from sleep, love."

He'd found Dream’s eyes sparkling at him, mischievous and starry-dark, before Dream leaned over and took his reading glasses from his face, and said, “Beds can be for other things as well, of course.”

(In the end, Hob was in fact no longer doing that sort of work in bed, so he guesses Dream won that one.)

There’s a knock on Hob’s office door around noon.

Hob is expecting a student, or a colleague, but instead it’s Dream—his Dream, but not quite the same as ever: longer- and wilder-haired, leather-jacketed, taller than usual, an assortment of earrings and studs glinting in his ears.

Hob lights up.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your thoughts have circled me rather insistently today,” Dream says, “and there was not much to do in the Dreaming. I thought I might visit.”

Hob knows there is always something for Dream to do in the Dreaming—knows Dream is, effectively, taking an actual break if he is here now. It makes his heart feel full to know his lover is choosing to share this scant, stolen time with him—and even more so to know Dream has, for once, done something for himself, however small.

He walks around his desk, kisses Dream hello. Dream tastes, impossibly, like the cinnamon latte Hob had imagined he'd have ordered that morning. He has to kiss him again to make sure; and once more after that, slow and indulgent; until he remembers he has actual work to do, and then he pulls back and touches his fingertips to Dream's choker. “This is new, darling. What’s this look, then?”

“I am... experimenting,” Dream says, the tiniest bit smug. Hob gives him the kind of thorough once-over that he hopes communicates his appreciation raucously enough.

“I’ve been attacking my emails,” he says, going regretfully back to his chair, “they’re never-ending, I swear. And I’ve got a Zoom with Liam about his writing project at two. But I hope you’ll stay anyway? Sit anywhere you like.”

“Of course,” Dream says. “I would not dream of keeping you from your tasks, Hob.”

Hob just raises his eyebrows at him, pointed, until Dream laughs—a sound that used to be so rare, one Hob is still getting used to being able to evoke. It's an odd little noise, different every time; today it’s pitched low, somewhere between a cat’s purr and a human chuckle, and the vibration of it strokes a gentle but insistent warmth down Hob’s spine.

He expects he’ll accomplish remarkably little, if things go on this way.

Sit anywhere you like proves to be a difficult invitation. Hob’s office is largely taken up by his desk and his bookshelves on the best of days; his bicycle and umbrella vie for one corner. Most of the remaining space is currently occupied by a massive box, which contains Hob’s most recent order of secondhand books. Seating for visitors is almost an afterthought at the minute.

Yet Dream accepts Hob's challenge with aplomb, settles on the unopened box as though it is as good as any throne to him, and Hob returns to clearing out his messages.

He can feel Dream watching him, but whenever he glances up over the top of his computer, Dream has his nose buried in some tome or other plucked from Hob’s shelf. The afternoon passes like this—all through Hob’s Zoom call, during which Hob listens more distractedly than he'd like to Liam's latest additions to his thesis draft, and sweats lightly under the heat of Dream's gaze.

The moment his meeting is done, Hob snaps his laptop shut, the resounding click making Dream look up from the copy of Women's Libraries in Late Medieval Bourbonnais, Burgundy, and France he'd been perusing.

"Want to get out of here?" Hob asks.

#the sandman #dreamling #hob: if you spoil me on this book that i JUST got on preorder i'm gonna riot #dream: MY BELOVED I WOULD NEVER #hob: you would and you know it #i don't know that they actually make it home to be honest #hob's got Things to Do

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starlightxsvt · 3 years ago

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3 dates | c.sc

pairing ➳ badboy!Seungcheol x female!reader

genre ➳ badboy au, romance, some fluff, angst, bad attempt at humour, gets spicy at the end.

word count ➳ 12.4k+ (i have NO idea how this became so long so strap in for a ride)

warnings ➳ cursing, mentions of killing, mentions criminal activities, slight violence(non explicit), smoking, ma man Seungcheol ain't your typical badboy, self doubt, blackmailing, reader does all sorts of risky things cuz she's a SIMP, blood(nothing explicit), kissing, marking, some breast worshipping, grinding, reader is horny lol. (Please lemme know if I forgot anything.)

synopsis ➳ after one fateful encounter with him you cannot get him out of your head. so you opt to do some crazy things to catch his attention and even snag a few dates with him. only trouble is he isn't the type to stay after the whole disposition is over.

Swirling the third drink in your hand you heave yet another depressed sigh. You are so tired that you feel like you can just slump on the counter and pass out. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stop for a drink, you alcohol riddled brain thinks.

The plans you had with Katelyn was cancelled last moment; she called to tell you that her thesis submission date was moved forward and so she couldn't hang out with you tonight. You're in the middle of an existential crisis quite literally, the too many part time jobs yet still lack of money and copious amounts of study getting to you. Staring hard at your drink you contemplate if it is worth giving up on college and your dream of becoming an arts major. It sure feels tempting right now, the long hours at the diner and not enough sleep at night proving to be the worst nuisance.

Sighing you put down your drink. It's still early, you should go home and try to catch up on the much needed sleep. You really had no intention of grabbing a drink tonight; you have morning classes tomorrow but you made a last moment decision to stop for a drink on your way back home. You didn't take your usual route to home today, and while trudging through the streets tiredly you came across this bar called Seventeen's. You've heard stories about this place, how it is the home to local gangs and how it's bad people's turf and what not. Your curiosity, probably too much of that made you get inside for a drink even though all the bones in your body ached. The inside is what you expected, nowhere near fancy but dingy, just decent enough. The people inside didn't look friendly and if the chains and tattoos on them gave any indication you'd say the rumours are true; this is the turf of gangs. The drinks taste decent, not the best but not the worst and from the overall look of this place you don't really have a reason to come back.

You're about to stand up from your stool when a large, clammy hand grabs your wrist out of nowhere, making you jump. "Hey sexy, sit down. Let me buy you a drink," the owner of the hand, a large, tattooed middle aged man slurs making your nose scrunch out of disgust. You're wearing nothing that can be called sexy; a plain cardigan and jeans and the way he looks you up and down makes you want to poke his eyes out.

You really shouldn't have come here. Clenching your jaw, you meet his eyes, "What makes you think I'm interested to have a drink with you?"

"Oh come on, why would you be here then, lookin' all nice? Just sit down," the man drawls, an ugly smile on his face. He still hasn't let go of your wrist and it's making you impatient. Looks like you're gonna have to kick his balls tonight. Maybe the self defense classes didn't completely go to waste.

"Get your disgusting hands off me while I'm being nice, sleazeball," you hiss at him, trying to get his hand off. The man stands up growling, "What did you say you bitch?" You're preparing to break his nose when out of nowhere a punch lands on his face that sends him tumbling to the ground. The attacker gets on top of him and twists his arm and you can literally hear a bone snap.

Shit.

"I think she said she is not interested," the man hisses, landing yet another another hit on his face before kicking his groin and getting up. When he turns around and his eyes meet yours, your heart skips a few beats and you almost The man is drop dead gorgeous, someone you would not expect to see here but probably on the cover of a high end magazine. His blond hair is long, crossing the nape of his neck as well as some covering his forehead. What takes your breath away the most is his eyes, the most beautiful pair you've ever seen. They seem to have their own galaxies in them, so deep and mesmerising and decorated with lashes long enough to make you jealous. His dress up, black jacket and jeans, immediately tells you what he is; a gang member.

"You should get home, lady," He speaks in a no nonsense tone, his face cold as ice. But you're offended. "Excuse me? Who are you calling lady? You make it sound like I'm old." You puff your cheeks and cross your arms, trying to appear intimidating. "Besides I had the situation under control, you didn't need to butt in." The man keeps looking at you with that no nonsense look, his features displaying annoyance if you are right and he's clearly not intimidated. The dude on the floor grunts and makes an effort to get up, only to be kicked by your saviour once more. "Hey Mingyu, get him out of here. What was this piece of trash doing here anyway?" The man orders to someone before turning to look at you, "Do you live far?"

"Uh- no, a ten minutes walk from here maybe," you reply unsurely, surprised at his question. The blond haired man nods before grabbing your wrist, "I'll walk you home. Hurry up, lady." You have a feeling he's purposely calling you that and though you start following him out of the bar, you make grunts of protest.

"Oh yeah, why? Trying to find out my address? So you can come later and hurt me like that guy?" You would not be this brazen if it wasn't for the alcohol in your system, after all the man next you isn't a friendly one if the rumours are true. The man raises a brow at you, "Did you do something that requires me to beat you up?" You hiccup at his serious tone. Does he not get a joke? He lets go of your hand now that you're at a safe distance from the bar but still stays close enough to you as your steps are rather stumbling and messy. You aren't fully drunk but your body is tired and feels like will shut down any second.

You really need some sleep.

"You know I'm not that drunk. You don't have to walk me home." You complain. "I'm walking you home because this isn't a nice place you should be alone at night. What happened earlier could happen again." He says not looking at you. "Mhmm," you keep on trudging behind him, "Thank you so much for your kind gesture, sir." You mock him but he doesn't reply, staring straight ahead, completely ignoring you as he walks quietly. In silence you two walk the rest of the path, before finally stopping as your apartment comes into view. At this point it feels like your bones will break and you will plop down on the concrete any second, but you manage to keep standing. "Well, thanks for walking me home." You shift your weight from one foot to another. "And for helping me back there." He shrugs coolly, a bored expression on his face. He's turning to walk away when you call, "Hey- I didn't get your name."

"What do you need it for?" He side glances at you. You shrug, "I don't know. You helped me so I thought it'd be nice to know your name." "You don't need to. Go inside, lady." He says, his tone final and starts marching away. You wait a couple moments before yelling, "Asshole!" and quickly rushing inside your building, partly afraid he's gonna come back.

You won't be surprised if you get killed tonight.

"So you are telling me Choi Seungcheol walked you home?" Katelyn screams in your ear, jolting up from her seat, earning glares from other people at the library in the process. "That's his name?" You whisper-yell, grabbing her hand to pull her back down. "I'm guessing from the blond hair you said," Katelyn shrugs. "Uh huh." You mean back in your chair, "He was hot though."

"Is that seriously all you have to say?" Katelyn whines exasperatedly. "No, I mean, if it wasn't for the way he dresses or talks I would have thought he's a model or something." You murmur.

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" Katelyn questions. "Hell no!" You frown. "He saved me from that creepy old dude. I was surprised too. I wish I didn't drink so much, I could have gotten a better look at his face," you sigh. "Seriously?" Katelyn raises a brow at you.

"Girl, you should have seen him. His aura and the way he carried himself was...so hot." You grin to yourself. Katelyn watches you like you've grown two heads. "Are you trying to tell me you have a crush on that gangster?" You smile sheepishly, "Maybe, I mean it's harmless. He was broody yet charming and I'm a girl so.... Also, it's not like he likes me too and is gonna come running whenever I ask him to bang me." You mutter.

"Oh he's gonna break your bones and bang your skull against a wall. That's what he's gonna do."

"Come on! Maybe he isn't so bad. Maybe the rumours are just rumours. Maybe he just looks intimidating and dresses up like that and people thinks he's a gangster." "Really? His name is on every bad thing that happens around here. From illegal racing to murders. Do you know that people say he has killed too?" "Like I said, rumours," you shrug being your stubborn self. Katelyn holds her hands up in surrender, "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're alive so let's just put this behind us, shall we?" You don't reply but wiggle your brows at her, a conspirational look on your face. "Oh no, don't look at me like that," Katelyn warns. "Let's go to that bar tonight. Please?" You give her your best puppy eyes. "What are you? Fucking crazy? You wanna get killed?" She whisper-yells, scowling at you. "No. I just wanna take another look at him. Without the alcohol in my system you know. Besides, the place isn't that bad." You reply.

"Well then get killed by yourself. I'm not coming with you."

"I'll help you with your papers for the rest of the semester."

"Shit."

"Well, looks like your wish won't be coming true," Katelyn muses chugging down her fourth glass as you keep playing with your first one. It's nearing an hour since you've come to the bar and there has been no sign of the man you desperately seek. The place is exactly like it was the other day, filled with people who you wouldn't want to mess with.

Yet here you are.

"Let's call it a night," Katelyn sighs. "We're just wasting our time." You know that too but you don't want to leave; not just yet. You are well aware that this is just pathetic but you've this crazy urge to see that man once again. You don't know why you feel this way; you never felt like this before. Why are thinking yourself to death about a complete stranger? Has some kind of spell been casted on you?

"Yeah, let's get going," you murmur half heartedly. You help your friend stand up as she's a little wobbly on her feet and together you make your way through the door. "Should we call a cab?" You ask Katelyn. She shakes her head no and you nod, you arms wrapped around hers to support her in case she looses her balance. You start stepping away from the bar and towards the road to her place until a noise from behind makes you stop in your tracks.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, whipping your head behind. There's no one around and the street is mostly dark other than the light flashing from the name of the bar. You hear the sound once again and this time you can locate where it's coming from. There's an abandoned playground at the back of the bar and you've a feeling that's the source.

Katelyn hisses as she sees you step towards there. "What are you doing!"

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Yes I did. That's why I say we leave!" You ignore her and cautiously keep on stepping forward, mentally cursing yourself for wearing heels. Katelyn follows behind you murmuring all kinds of warnings. "You know curiosity killed the cat, right?" She whispers.

You roll your eyes, "Well I'm not a cat. Just- be quiet. It can be nothing." You both move past the bar gingerly and towards the playground at the back. There are old gallons of oil and abandoned materials just around the corner and you two quickly hide among them. It takes you a while to get adjusted to the low light after you poke your head up from the hiding spot.

You're eyes fix on him immediately. His blond hair makes him easily recognisable amid the darkness. There is a few more people around him, all kicking something in the ground. Not something, but someone. The man lying on the ground groans in pain and you realize this is what you both heard. "Shit," You hear Katelyn curse from beside you. "We need to get going." Instead of replying, you keep your eyes trained on the scene unfolding, holding your breath. You're tranced. Seungcheol lands continuous punched on the guy laying below him and after a moment his writhing frame seems to stop moving as it falls limp.

Fuck.

"You know in movies this is the part where people get caught." Katelyn whispers, her voice hoarse and her hand clutching yours in a tugging motion. "Uh-huh. But I can't seem to move. I wonder if he's... really dead." You whisper back. "Are you fucking crazy!" She hisses. "You wanna witness murder?"

Before you can reply you hear a sound that echoes through the empty field and it takes a second for you two to realise that it came from any one of you two. You don't have the time to figure out who made it as you both are crawling away from the playground without looking back, head crouched low to avoid being seen. You don't know if they heard that or if they're coming behind you, you both just keep scrambling, moving until you're past the corner. As soon as possible you both get on your feet and run like the grim reaper is chasing you, stopping only when you are far enough from the bar.

"I am never listening to you again!" Katelyn yells.

It's been a good few days since your near death experience and you somehow find yourself in front of that bar once again. You and Katelyn have not brought up that incident after that night. You made yourself believe that it was over and came to a conclusion that it is better to forget that man and leave all of it behind, no matter how much your heart disagreed. But it's easier said than done; you may not mention him out loud but in the back of your mind you think of him. He's like a ghost, haunting you all the time, plagueing your thoughts when you go to bed at night. It felt like he was ever existent and there was an itch in your heart that drove you insane.

Maybe that's why your subconscious brought you here, in front of Seventeen's, once again. You were on your way back home from library and you thought you took your usual route, until you realized you were standing in front of that place. But what is even terrifying is that the man haunting your mind stands in front of the entrance of the bar and you blink a few times to make sure you are not hallucinating. He's leaned against the entrance door, cigarette between his lips and from his pocket he fetches a lighter to light the poison in his mouth.

Damn, lighting up a cigarette never looked this sexy.

He hasn't seen you yet and you contemplate running the other way. That's the sensible thing to do but you, not being a sensible person, start walking towards him. Your footsteps make him look up and notice you and like the last time, there is no expression on his face. It's the same bored yet handsome face except now in daylight you can take a better look at him and this time, you notice a little mole on the left of his face, by his nose. Realising he's gonna stay silent you decide to speak, "Hi... It's me... Do you remember me?" Wow. That's such an intelligent thing to ask.

With the monotoned yet serious expression on his face, he goes, "Why won't I? I don't have Alzheimer's."

So he can joke.

You laugh, an awkward, probably exaggerated laugh. "What are you doing here? Did you not learn your lesson last time?" He cuts to the chase, his voice brassy and deep, almost threatening. You want to roll your eyes. "Who are you to say? I can be wherever I want whenever I want, thank you very much." "Well then, have fun getting in trouble like last time." He's nonchalant as he blows a smoke right past you and stands up straight, turning away. "Wait!" You almost grab his hand, desperate to stop him.

What is wrong with you? Your subconscious slaps her forehead. What are you holding him back for? To say 'hello sir, I think you're hot, can you please put your dick inside me'? Seungcheol turns his head back, his eyebrow cocked up.

Why do you find everything about him so attractive?

"Um...I know your name, Seungcheol." You speak, trying to sound intimidating, like knowing his name gives you some power over him. There's something definitely wrong with you which is why you don't want him to leave just yet and which is why you're stalling time. But it seems to have done the job as he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and turns towards you, an annoyed look on his face. "How do you know that?" The timbre of his tone is deep and it rakes shivers down your spine. "Well, you've built quite a reputation for yourself so it isn't hard to get your name." You shrug coolly. "Well, if you know so much about my reputation, you should know what I'm capable of." His lone is low, almost threating as he starts to take slow steps towards you making you step back out of reflex.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe you will also end up like the curious cat.

"Oh yes, I know. People have got a lot to say about you," you try to sound unfazed, not meeting his eyes that you feel are burning holes on your face. "What are you doing here, lady?" he asks slowly, pausing between each word and glaring at you as he continues to step forward. You can feel his patience thinning.

"I swear to God if you call me that-"

"What are you doing here?" This time his tone is scary, too scary. It makes you lose the ability to speak for a second as his dark gaze bores into you. He has backed you up against the wall behind you and you swallow. Right, what are you doing here? It probably has something to do with a very hot individual and his insanely attractive aura. Scratch that you are a hundred percent sure it has something to do with the blond haired, enticing man in front of you. He's driving you mad and you need to get your fill of him.

"Go out with me," you state and you are sure you've never spoken words more stupid than that. Internally, you cringe and pray that the ground below you would open and take you straight to the fiery pits.

This is the first time you see some sort of expression come across his face; surprise. He looks utterly shocked and somewhat confused. His mouth opens just a little and he squints at you, "What?"

There's no going back now.

"Go out with me. Let's go on three dates." you say once more, looking him in the eye. He seems to appear even more surprised, a dumbstruck look sitting on his face. He observes you quietly for a while and you can feel the gears in his head shifting. You wonder what he's gonna say next. Or maybe he won't say anything but bang your head on the wall and leave you to die alone. "I'm sorry I'm not following," he looks genuinely perplexed. "I want to go on three dates with you. They say after three dates you can figure out whether you like that person or not and I think I like you so..."

I think I like you.

The biggest understatement of the year.

Seungcheol tilts his head, an amused expression on his face as he studies you, those sharp eyes of his settling on yours, "What is your deal, sweetheart?" He crosses his arms, a brow raised. Sweetheart? That's new. And definitely better than lady. You can't deny how hearing him call you that makes your insides melt. "Nothing. I just want to date you," you shrug, trying to keep your wits together. His proximity is driving you wild; you can sniff a faint smell of cologne and cigarette, him being inches away from you. This time he laughs loudly, a mocking laugh you'd say. "Who sent you?"

Oh my god.

You roll your eyes. "Nobody sent me! Do I look like I'm a gang member or something?" "Then I don't see a reason why you'd want to date me," He states, throwing a challenging look at you.

"What if I said I have a thing for bad boys?"

He snorts. "You don't look the type to date bad boys," he mocks. "Who are you to say that?" You cross your arms. "I want to date you because I think you're hot, okay?" You can not believe you just said that. Looks like you don't have control over your mouth anymore. Warmth spreads throughout your face like a forest fire.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes on you, his tongue poking his cheek as he stands in front of you as if trying to read your mind. After a beat he sighs before looking at you, his eyes becoming darker than usual and his gaze unforgiving. "Hey. Does it look like I'm playing house here? Do you have any idea about the shit I do? The dirty work I do? I don't care if you have a fucking fetish or whatever but this is the last time I'm warning you. I don't want to see you around again. If I see you here once more, you're in fucking trouble," he spits and starts stomping away. His tone is serious and you know very well he is not joking, which is why you use your last resort. You're embarrassed at yourself for being so desperate but at the same time you feel shameless. It has almost turned into a game at this point, you want to make him surrender. That's right, you want him to give in. "You shouldn't be like that with me. I saw you, a few days ago. That night, when you and your friends were beating up that guy...in the playground," you casually stroll to come stand right behind him.

You can't believe you are blackmailing a gangster. Your death must be near.

Seungcheol whips his head back, his eyes glaring at you and you can almost see fire in them. Finally, you got his attention.

"My friend also saw it, we both did. You killed him, didn't you? Me and my friend witnessed a murder. What do you say? Should we go to the station?" You can see his jaw clench and you can't hold back a victorious smirk. Moments pass by as your words hang in the air and the tension between you gets thicker. Yet once more he surprises you, breaking the silence with a chuckle, "Well I killed one person, what makes you think I can't take care of another?"

You swallow.

"Well, my friend already knows so if I go missing you can be sure that the cops will come to you first." You throw back at him.

When did you get so wreckless?

Seungcheol stares at you for a few more seconds before shrugging and moving his hand dismissively, "Well then go tell the cops. I don't give a shit." He starts walking back to the bar leaving you starstruck. He stops and turns towards you before opening the door, "Also, I meant it. I hope I don't see you around. Otherwise I may just have to hurt that pretty face."

You don't show up after that.

Mostly because you are embarasssed.

It's been a good while after your last encounter with Seungcheol and you didn't go to the police, obviously. Because you don't have evidence and from what you've heard Seungcheol is pretty influential around here and you don't need to go to an extent to get on his bad side. You're definitely gonna end up dead if you do so, which you don't want just yet.

Classes have just finished and you and Katelyn step out of the classroom together, walking through the hallways and into the main campus. She rambles on about some bad sushi she ate yesterday while your mind remains preoccupied. Maybe you need to get laid. Maybe that'll make you forget about Seungcheol. You just need good dick that's probably why you were so desperate for him.

That's just a stupid lie.

You don't realise Katelyn is calling you until she shakes you by the shoulder and you snap back into reality. You notice her face is as pale as a ghost and following her line of sight your eyes stop on him.

Him. Seungcheol.

What?

You double take, blinking furiously to confirm your vision. He's standing there, in the parking area of your uni, leaned against a convertible Ferrari, a cigarette between his lips. He looks relaxed, like he does this regularly. Students whisper in each others ear while gawking at him curiously. "What did you do!" Katelyn yells. "Nothing!" You hiss back.

"Then why is he here!"

"I don't know!"

Your eyes meet with Seungcheol's and a smirk spreads across his face making you shiver. He stands up straight and tilts his head, an indication for you to come closer to him. "Fuck, he's here for me," you mumble. "Of course he's here for you, dumbass," Katelyn snaps. "Well, if I don't return, you know who killed me." You sigh starting to walk towards him. "Wait- you're going with him?" She asks incredulously.

"Don't worry. I'll keep my phone on. I don't think he's gonna murder me, I mean there are so many witnesses." You inhale deeply, leaving behind a lost looking Katelyn.

Seungcheol says nothing as you stand right in front of him raising an inquisitive brow but he only holds open the door for you to get in. Deciding to follow him you enter the car quietly and a wave of gasps go through the crowd.

There's gonna be talk about this tomorrow.

Seungcheol, still smirking victoriously for some reason rounds the car and gets inside and within seconds you're hitting the road. There's a thick silence for a while, which feels like ages to you. You're overwhelmed, bewildered to say anything; your poor brain still processing what is happening. You're nervous, jittery as you fiddle with you bag and look out on your side, for some reason scared to look at him.

What if he really kills you? He wouldn't, right?

"You're awfully quiet," Seungcheol says matter of factly as he spares you a glance while driving.

"I'm... processing."

"What are you, a robot?"

"Why are you doing this?" You question instead.

"Doing what?"

"Okay, you know very well what I mean. Why are you picking me up from uni all of a sudden? How do you even know I'm a student there?" "I have resources and...you didn't protest at all. You came along nicely," Seungcheol raised a brow at you, a cocky smile on his lips. You don't answer but continue to stare at him, trying to pin him down with your gaze. He finally sighs and pulls the car to a stop by the side of the road, the sudden brake making you slightly jerk in your seat. "I've decided to give you those 3 dates. That's why," He is calm, unreadable and you wonder if this is a prank. Then again, he has no reason to prank you, does he? "Really?" Your voice comes out breathy. "Yes. I thought I'd give you a taste of how it feels to be with someone like me. I can scare people without physically hurting them you know," He says in a menacing tone.

"So what? You're taking me to an underground fight or something?" You question. "Nah, we're keeping it simple today." He smirks as he starts the car again and turns on the radio, an indication that he doesn't want to converse anymore.

Shamelessly you take a good look at Seungcheol; he's dressed in another jacket today paired with a black tee underneath. Today, you notice he has upped his accessory game, his fingers full of rings and chains dangling from his neck. But what catches your attention is a tattoo, something like a dragon and words written in a language you don't understand, peeking from underneath his sleeve. You almost ask about it but decide it'll probably be too much and he wouldn't answer you anyway.

As you do so, in the back of your mind you think you should have dressed better, something cuter, more appropriate for a date rather than a plain blouse and jeans. But then again who knew Choi Seungcheol was gonna show up out of the blue. You're gnawing at your lower lip, lost in your thoughts when the car is pulled to a halt and you realize your ride is over. You're parked in front of a diner called Lacy's and from the vibe that the place is giving, you can tell that this is place where people like him hang out. You raise a questioning brow at Seungcheol who says, "I know it doesn't look fancy but trust me I has some of the best food I've ever eaten." Taking his words for now you quickly type out a text to Katelyn letting her know you're in one piece and get out of the car.

Once you're seated you look around the place which is relatively empty except some men playing pool at the far end. You watch Seungcheol who has gone to the reception booth to place your orders; his posture relaxed as he leans against the counter and talks to the girl standing there. They seem to know each other because their chat takes longer than it should and the girl has a shy, almost flirty smile on her face.

He probably fucks her.

You shake the thought off your head as the gangster comes back and sits in front of you. There's silence for a second as you wonder if you should just ask the questions that run free around your mind. "Are the rumours true?" You blurt out. He's raises a brow.

"About you. You know..."

"Do you want them to be true?" He asks back. "I don't...know," you reply. "Well, I think it depends on each person. If you want it to be true it is true, if you don't it isn't," he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Why don't you just give me a straight answer?" you snap. He smirks as if he's having fun but doesn't reply, watching you with his arms crossed. You roll your your eyes, blowing out an exasperated breath. "You know, I haven't seen one like you. Willingly hanging out with dangerous people, going to dangerous places. You say you saw me kill someone yet you're here. You're almost desperate to get in trouble," he observes. "I'm not desperate to get in trouble. I just...I'm just- attracted to you alright?" This is so embarrassing. You need to shut your mouth. "You've been on my mind ever since that night. I wanna see exactly how deep I'm into you." You bite your lip.

That's enough. You will boost his ego through the roof like this.

Seungcheol studies you for a bit before grinning cockily, "Well, if you didn't know, I am trouble baby. Just you being with me might end you up in a mess." Before you can reply, your food is served, that same girl from the booth setting down your plates and looking at Seungcheol for a bit too long with that same stupid smile which he returns. You don't know why but you feel jealous, jealous of whatever these two share, whatever she has with him.

You've lost your mind at this point. You're on a high that is Seungcheol. He has made you forget your morals, made you completely lose your mind. Or maybe you've been too good all your life and seeing him brought out that crazy, thrill seeking part of yourself.

Silently you dig into your food and as Seungcheol said, the food is really good. This is one of the best meatloaf you've ever had and you can't help but moan. Seungcheol watches you with an amused smile before popping a fry in his mouth.

"What's your major?" Seungcheol asks out of the blue.

"Uh- sociology."

"Mmhmm."

You're about to ask him what he studied in college but you assume he probably never went to one so you seal your lips. You wonder what his background is and who his parents are but you don't want to get too personal on the first day. So you ask something else, "How old are you?" He laughs out loud before he deadpans, "Thirty five." "What!" You almost choke.

There's no way he's-

"Why? What did you expect?"

"I... I don't know! A few years older than me? You're kidding right? You don't look thirty five." He has to be bluffing. "And how old would you be?" "You shouldn't ask a woman her age," you try to make a point. "Don't you have any manners?" He smirks,"I don't, sweetheart. To answer your question, I'm twenty eight."

Uh huh.

"Well, I'm twenty one," you mutter under your breath. You don't know if he hears it because he doesn't give any reaction, busy twirling a fry in sauce. The rest of your meal is full of silence as you wonder if your date will end like this; dry and boring. He's awfully silent and seems to be lost in thoughts as he doesn't engage in a conversation. You're about to take your last bite when the silence is broken by him.

"What did you see that night?" He leans over, his elbows resting on the table as he suddenly regards you with a sombre look, his earlier cockiness vanished. His eyes have once again gone dark and his demeanor says he's not being superficial right now. You're caught off guard as you cough loudly, reaching for your glass to take a sip of water. "What?"

"You heard me. What did you see that night? Exactly how much did you see?" He repeats. You're confused. You thought he didn't care about it. He said it didn't matter. So why is he bringing it up now? You've worked hard to push that night in the deepest part of your brain, pretending it didn't happen.

And then suddenly it clicks.

"You!" You point an accusatory finger at him as you catch on to his plan. "You've agreed to go out with me so that you can find out what I saw that night!" Seungcheol groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, just fucking tell me!" He snaps, annoyed that you've found out his little scheme. You scoff, "I thought you said you didn't care? Besides it's not like I'm going to tell the police." He rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch. "Just tell me and let me go."

You're baffled. His actions didn't make any sense and you actually thought he had no other intentions behind dating you but holy shit this sneaky bastard. "You sly little asshole!" You hiss at him. "Call me that once more and you'll regret it." He threatens. You roll your eyes sagging back into your seat, "Whatever." Then an idea hits you. "You know what, I'll tell you exactly how much I saw that night." You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he stares intensely at you, waiting for your next words. "On our third date. When this whole deal is over, I'll tell you. But in return you'll have to keep your promise and take me out on two more dates."

"Oh fucking hell," he groans rubbing his face in frustration. His state makes you smirk and you feel accomplished.

Choi Seungcheol is stressed because of you.

What a day to be alive.

You murmur, "Besides this isn't even a proper date. This was more like an interrogation. But I'll go easy on you and won't make you redo this date." You give him a sweet smile and he sees red. You can literally see fury blaze in his eyes. "Whatever!" He yells and abruptly stands up. "I don't have time for this. Your stupid play date is over. I'm dropping you home."

Before you can reply, he's marching towards the door. You've to admit this wasn't the best date but at least you've trapped Choi Seungcheol.

It has been a good week after your so called date at the diner and you haven't heard from him. You expected him to call or text you since he was gracious enough to ask for your number but he didn't. You now realize it was a mistake to not get his number; you had asked him for his when he took yours but being the prick he is he denied to hand over his number to you. You should have forced him to, you sigh. As you sit in the library the ping of your mobile distracts you from your racing thoughts as you realize you have a message. Picking the device up you tap on the notification. Even though it was from an unknown number, you have no trouble figuring out who it is from. A smile graces your lips as you read the words over again.

I'll pick you up from your house tomorrow evening at six.

That's all it says and that is good enough to send a thrum of excitement throughout your body.

You have not held back in dressing up today and you realize it's been a long time since you've dolled up yourself. A long before the clock strikes 6 you are ready; dressed in a cute pastel top and a matching skirt. You've also went ahead and applied makeup, not too much but just enough to maybe catch his eye. Maybe.

You wonder what he has planned for today.

A text from Seungcheol saying he's here has you flying out of your apartment as fast as your feet can carry your desperate self to see him. He stands in front of your apartment with his convertible, dressed in a white jacket that matched his pants. You take a deep breath before walking towards him, trying to calm all your nerves down.

"You know I expected to hear from you earlier. I've been waiting all week," you voice makes his head turn around to meet your eyes as you are skipping towards him with a teasing smile in your face. "I've been busy," he shrugs coolly, his eyes going over your whole body, from your legs to your face. He doesn't hide that he's taking a good look at you, in fact does it unashamedly.

You wonder if he likes what he sees.

Someone dressed up today," he comments. "Too bad we aren't going to a place where you can show off your pretty clothes." You frown, "Where are we going?" Seungcheol holds open the door, a mischievous smile on his face. "I've decided to grant your wish." With a confused face you get inside the car, the gears in your head running. What does he mean?

"I'm taking you to an underground fighting ring," he says with smirk as he reaches for something behind his seat. He pulls out a large hoodie and tosses it towards you, "Put this on. Otherwise you are going to attract a lot of attention and you don't want that." You gulp, taking the hoodie and putting it on you. You're slightly embarrassed. You were so excited to try this outfit but it's not like you knew he was taking you to a fight club. Hell you would have dressed like a guy if you knew. You shrug on the hoodie and it falls almost to your knees but it's huge and comfy and most importantly it smells like him. There's a hint of cologne, nothing too strong; a subtle, expensive scent that makes you want to take a deeper sniff. You wonder if you can keep this with you.

Stop it, pervert.

Seungcheol's voice pulls you out of your haze, "You can take it off later. Just wear it until we're out of there," he says and brings the engine to life.

Then you actually think about it. Underground fighting ring? Holy shit. You were only kidding when you mentioned it. Admittedly, you're shocked, somewhat horrified. Everyone knows it isn't the best place to be at especially for someone like you who never had such an experience. Seungcheol must have seen your expression because the smile on his face gets bigger, "Why? You not up for it?" His voice is teasing.

He's challenging you.

Oh well.

"Of course I'm up for it," you square your shoulders, keeping your voice cool. "Bring it on."

Seungcheol leads you into a bar and then through a door at the back that leads down to a lot of stairs, reaching a place similar to an underground parking lot. Quietly you follow Seungcheol, staying as close to him as possible, your bodies occasionally touching. He leads you to a pair of double doors and from the other side you can hear men shouting and chanting.

This is it, I guess.

Seungcheol throws one more smile at you before pushing open the doors as you scramble to follow him closely. The sight that greets you something you only see in movies. There's a boxing ring where two people are throwing punches at each other and surrounding them from all sides is a wild, loud and excited crowd. They continue to cheer loudly as the two men in the ring continue to box and you hear their grunts and groans.

Holy shit.

Swallowing your eyes meet Seungcheol's who is regarding you with curiosity. "What do you think?" He has to speak loudly for you to hear over the screaming throng. "Uh... It's loud," you say dumbly as you try to think of a reply. But it's too loud for you to even think properly as you take in your unfamiliar surroundings. You see a tall man approaching towards you and out of reflex you shuffle closer to Seungcheol until you realize it's his friend. The guy from the first night. He and Seungcheol grin at each other, patting their backs as they talk close to each others ears. You gawk at them curiously and realize they must be talking about you because his friend takes curious glances at you occasionally. His friend is tall, really tall and well built but unlike his body his face is sweet and puppy like, almost cute. When he grins his canines pop up just like a puppy and you wonder if all his friends are good looking.

After he's done chatting with his friend Seungcheol pulls you close and says, "This is my friend. Mingyu. Always stay near him, you hear me? Don't stray away unless you wanna get hurt." His eyes are stern as he pins you down with his stare but you have other thoughts running in your head.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" You yell over the noise.

He just smirks at you and starts taking his jacket off. "About time you see how we do it around here." His tone is cocky as he hands his jacket to you, "Hold this for me. And stay close to him."

Giving a look at Mingyu Seungcheol starts walking away towards a door that you're guessing is the changing room.

He's gonna fight.

"Wait- but-" Mingyu stops you with a hand on your shoulder and offers you a kind smile. "It's fine. Just stay with me." He then ushers you towards the crowd, spotting a place where you can get a good look at the ring. "Do you guys do this often?" You look up at Mingyu. He smiles sheepishly, "Not me. I tried a few times and I always end up beaten to a pulp. But hyung does this often, he's really good."

"Uh huh, I'm sure he is," you smile dryly. "This is your first time watching a fight, no?" "Definitely." He grins, "Watch carefully then. It's really fun."

You have your doubts on how watching people beat each other up can be fun but you don't comment anything, instead chew on your lip anxiously. Seungcheol really didn't have to go this far? What if he gets hurt badly? Is he trying to impress you?

Don't flatter yourself, your subconscious rolls her eyes.

As the loud cheering that had died down ensues again, your train of thoughts are halted as you see Seungcheol in shorts and his hands covered in boxing gloves, step into the ring. You can't help but ogle at his naked torso, his finely defined and chiseled muscles. He has the perfect body, not too bulky, not too lean just the right amount that gives you a hard time taking your eyes off him. He seems to have noticed your gaze because the second your eyes meet, he throws a haughty, knowing smirk at you. Embarrassed you avert your gaze elsewhere.

His opponent is a muscular man who's growling and banging his chest with his fists, a gesture of intimidation, you suppose. You are definitely intimidated and you wonder if Seungcheol can actually win against him.

The fight starts with a whistle and in mere seconds they are on to each other, throwing punches left and right. Your eyes have a hard time keeping up with them and their fast reflexes and your hands fly to your mouth as a punch lands on Seungcheol's face, followed by repeated blows as Seungcheol falls back. There's a moment of silence as he wipes his bottom lip and you realize there's a cut.

He tilts his neck, popping the bones and glaring at the other man before launching himself on top of his opponent. The next moments are a blurry mess, Seungcheol beating the guy repeatedly until he ends up on the floor but he doesn't stop there. Seungcheol ends it with a sharp jab to his spine and you have no doubt the other man has broken bones with the ways he howls in pain. The match comes to an end like that as the people cheer wildly while Seungcheol steps down from the stage. Mingyu grins at you happily as if what you witnessed was just a regular occurrence, something you should be cheerful about. Shaking your head at the situation, you let out a deflated sigh.

Their life is really so different than yours.

Seungcheol seems to be in a very good mood after the fight as he buys you both some sandwiches and drinks from a deli after you both step out of the bar. You both sit down at a park nearby to eat and watch the night sky. "You know, I thought you were gonna lose," you speak after taking a few bites of the sandwich. Seungcheol scoffs, "You underestimate me, sweetheart. I've been doing this for a long time."

"Do you enjoy it?" You ask quietly, focused on peeling the wrapper from your food. You feel Seungcheol's stare on you. "Yes. Why? Are you scared already?"

"No. I was just... curious. Your definition and my definition of fun is totally different." You murmur. "Of course. What did you think? I go to the mall and shop and watch movies with my friends when I'm bored?" His tone is sarcastic. You bite your lip. "No I didn't. It's just...I feels different now that I have experienced it first hand." Seungcheol offers nothing more, taking a sip of his coke and leaning back into the bench. A silence stretches between the both of except the rustling of the wrapper of your food. "How long have you been doing this?" You blurt out. He frowns at you and you don't expect him to answer but he surprises you.

"For a long time."

He doesn't offer anymore and you don't have the heart to prod him for an actual answer. "And how long do you plan on doing this?"

"What?"

"I mean... don't you have any other plans. Like...do you wanna keep doing what you are doing for the rest of your life? Don't you wanna like... settle down maybe?" Your voice is soft as if you are talking to a child. Seungcheol looks annoyed. He doesn't speak for a while as he stares at the ground, a frown etched to his face. You're about to take back your question when he replies, "I really don't think you understand. I've been trying to tell you that my life is completely disparate to yours. So I don't think like you. I don't have plans like you but neither am I expected to follow a certain pattern like you. I can do whatever the fuck I want, ___. So don't look at me like you pity me. I'm the last person here that should be pitied. " His tone is sharp and it makes you feel bad, like a sensation of needles pricking your heart. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry," You whisper, feeling timid as you look down at your lap. He mutters, "Don't go poking your nose in other people's business. Specially people like me."

He's right. You shouldn't have asked that. You are not close enough to ask things like that. After that there is a silence, this time, an awkward one. There's palpable tension in the air and you feel jittery. Should you just ask him to take you home?

It's still early and truth be told, you don't want to leave him just yet. You only have one more date to go and judging by his reaction, he is in no way interested in a relationship. You heave out a long sigh. You knew very well what you were getting into, yet you couldn't stop yourself. Seungcheol is like a poison, the sweetest one, the one that has you addicted and unable to let go, no matter how much it hurts.

This is a fucking mess.

"Let's get going. I have plans," Seungcheol announces, standing up. You want to protest but you feel like you have ruined the mood, so you follow him mutely to his car.

The drive to your house is awfully quiet, to the point you want to scream out of frustration. Seungcheol seems to be lost in his head as he makes no move to talk. It's like you are alone, but you're not and it's worse, the air full of tension. Soon you have reached your house and he stops the car but keeps the engine rolling, indicating his rush. He keeps still and stares ahead while gripping the steering wheel as you step out of the car in silence. "Thanks for dropping me home," you say lamely, your voice meek. You turn around to walk away but his voice stops you in your tracks.

"I promised you three dates and I will keep my word. I expect you to keep yours, ___. I hope you will tell me what I want to hear when we meet next time." His tone is sharp with an edge of threat and you barely get to nod before he drives away.

It's not until you're inside your apartment that you realize you still have his hoodie on. Quickly fishing out your phone you type out a text.

I'm sorry, I forgot to return your hoodie.

After a while, his reply comes.

Keep it.

You watch Katelyn as she fills her lunch tray with food before walking over and taking a seat opposite to you. She looks extra radiant today, which probably has something to do with the way she's dressed; a bright colourful outfit which undoubtedly she put a lot of time into considering. She has a date, with a guy she has been talking to for the last few weeks. It reminds you of your pitiful situation and you sigh, trying to shrug off those thoughts.

It has been a good couple weeks since you last saw Seungcheol and you have not exchanged a word after that night. In the back of your mind you wonder if he is even alive. You want to message him, you really want to because you are going crazy but after how your last date ended, you can't bring yourself to. You are scared, exactly of what, you can't put your finger into.

The entire situation you have put yourself into is fucking scary. They say you become sure of your feelings after three dates but it did not take that much for you. You already are very certain about your feelings for him and how deep they run exactly and you also know that in the end you will be left scarred. He would never be yours. He has probably forgotten about you or decided that it is not worth another date to figure out what you saw that night.

You let a desperate, pitiable sigh.

"I know you are hiding things from me but I understand that you are not ready to talk yet. But I want you to know I am here for you okay?" Katelyn's voice makes you blink your way out of your thoughts. She squeezes your hand tightly and gives you a reassuring smile and you're left feeling guilty.

"I ...I will tell you. Soon. Just give me a bit more time," you whisper. She nods in understanding. A grateful smile touches your lips as her words make you emotional. Then there's a ping from your phone letting you know there's a message. Without giving it much thought you open the device and your eyes go wide.

I'll take you out for dinner tomorrow night. Wear something formal.

You wait outside your apartment for Seungcheol. Your day has passed by in a flurry of excitement and nerves as you carefully picked your outfit and did your hair and makeup. A soft baby pink dress that stopped just above you knees adorns you as your hair rests just above your neck in a loose bun.

You are fiddling with your fingers as you think about how this night is gonna end and wether you will ever see him again when a car screech that grabs your attention.

Seungcheol's convertible has taken a stop in front of you and you see the man getting out the vehicle and take big steps towards you.

You're mesmerized.

Perhaps there is not enough word in this world to describe his looks or perhaps you've simple lost the ability to speak; either way, you just stand and stare, drinking the godly man that stands in front of you. He looks delectable, completely flawless and agonizingly gorgeous in his sharp black suit and pants, with a silk black shirt underneath, the top couple buttons undone that reveals a beautiful porcelain skin. His hairstyle completes the look, parted to one side in a sleek way and showing his forehead and oh god is it sexy. You realize you have a forehead kink, if there is anything as such.

If you weren't in love with him before you are now.

He looks ravishing, and you wonder why it isn't illegal to look this good. It should be because you have completely lost control over yourself. Nothing exists in your world except for him and you feel paralyzed, unable to do anything but drink him in. You wonder if you are even worthy to stand beside him.

"____?" Seungcheol calls you, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. He must have been calling you while you were eye fucking him. "Oh! Um, hi." You're flustered. "You- you look really, really nice." It isn't enough but it's what you can get past your lips. A knowing smirk kisses his lips before he teases, "Well, you look really, really nice too." Motioning you to his car he says, "Shall we? We'll be late for our reservation."

"Yeah, of course," you say, hurrying over to his car, embarasssed at your foolery. Seungcheol must have noticed you ogling him like that. But you don't really care when he looks like that. It is his fault for looking so devilishly handsome and idly you wonder if he did that on purpose. If he's deliberately teasing with, trying to make you the most miserable before letting you go with a slap of reality to your face. Pushing away those plagueing thoughts, you sit up straight and clear your throat as Seungcheol comes to sit beside you and brings the engine to life.

A decently long and quiet (except for the music from the radio) but not quite uncomfortable car ride later, Seungcheol stops in front of a really fancy and expensive looking restaurant just by the sea. You did not except him to take you to a high end restaurant, otherwise you would have put some more effort in your looks.

Feeling slightly out of place you quietly follow Seungcheol into the beautiful European styled building after he hands his keys to a valet. The interior is dripping with polished furnitures and extravagant chandeliers and marble floors as guests dressed elegantly have their dinner. As you look around the place in awe Seungcheol talks to the receptionist who then guides you towards a staircase that leads to a pair of large double doors decorated with gold which then, opens to a large balcony. In the middle of it sits a table with two chairs and an unceremonious gasp escapes your mouth as you realize this is where you will be having dinner.

The man from earlier takes his leave as Seungcheol helps you sit down before taking a seat for himself while you take in everything, overwhelmed with all your surroundings. Why did he put so much effort for a lousy and fake date?

"What do you think?" He asks with a smirk as he rests one of his elbows on the table.

"I'm overwhelmed," you reply quietly, honestly. He chuckles, "Well this place has really good food and a fantastic view so I thought it wouldn't bad for our last date."

Last date.

"It's really beautiful. I don't know why you did this but thank you, really," you murmur, eyes on the satin table cloth with intricate golden lining. Everything about this place is so pretty.

"Well, I decided it would be beneficial for me to extract words from you if you are wooed," his words have a teasing tone to it and his demeanor is completely different from last time, giving you a whiplash but you are not sure if he's fully joking. Before you can say that you are definitely wooed, a waiter appears to take your order and you leave the duty of ordering to Seungcheol since he seems to frequent this place. Prior to his leave, the waiter pours you Seungcheol's champagne of choice and then, you two are alone once more.

Reaching for the flute, you quickly gulp down the champagne to soothe your dry throat and to calm all your nerves.

Over dinner you talk about your uni and your parents back home and the farm they own. While Seungcheol mostly keeps quiet he doesn't ignore you but listens carefully, occasionally passing glances your way or commenting. He does not offer anything about him, which you expected and you don't ask any questions about him either. Instead you try your best to keep his interest in your words despite the lack of it from his side.

After a hearty meal of poached lobsters and wagyu beefs and creamy soups comes dessert; a chocolate orange mousse with spiced fruits and yogurt sorbet. You start eating your dessert in silence, the occasional crashing of waves filling the complete lack of sounds.

This location is truly magnificent and breathtaking, almost having a feel like you're in a fancy resort in a luxurious tropical island. It is undoubtedly the most beautiful place you have ever been, let alone have dinner at and you wonder if you would ever have the chance to visit some place like this had you not met Seungcheol. The man in question, continues eating quietly, seemingly lost in his thoughts. He looks lovely as always, if not more and you try to burn this image in your mind for you to look back at later. You want to ask him so many question, you want to tell him so many things but you're scared. Sacred if you do so this moment will break, scared it will annoy him and end your final date all too early. So you bite your tongue and finish your food as he does and after your plates are cleared away, you are served another expensive champagne as an end to your luxurious dinner.

Even though Seungcheol doesn't say anything, you assume it is time to spill the beans, to say what he has been wanting to hear from the beginning. You have teased him enough and it is time you give him what he deserves. Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth. "Me and Katelyn heard noises from the playground that night so we decided to check. It was pretty dark and we were tipsy but I recognized you and you were... beating someone up. We stayed there and watched until one of us accidentally made some noise. We were scared that you heard us so we ran. That's all that happened."

You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he listens cautiously, his sharp eyes trained on you. Gulping, you clench your hands together underneath the table, waiting for his reaction. There seems to be an eternity of silence as Seungcheol simply stares at you as if he's debating whether your words are true or not. It's torturous, awfully agonizing and when you can't bear it anymore you're about to speak but he beats you to it.

"I didn't kill him." His voice is quiet. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Somewhere in the back of your mind you believed it, you believed he wouldn't be cruel enough to kill someone just like that and as soon as he speaks those words you believe him, without a doubt, without a second of delay.

"I believe you." You whisper, holding his gaze. "That asshole deserved what he got. He shouldn't even be alive but I let him go. He's in a hospital now, if you are wondering." You nod quietly. It's scary how much you believe him, how much you trust him even though he is pretty much a stranger.

There's a moment of silence as you bask in his presence before he speaks, "____, men like me, we aren't the nicest people. But we are needed, the cops need us around. People like me do the dirty works for people like you so y'all don't face troubles. We do things in an unconventional way but that's just who we are. We aren't as bad as the rumours say but we definitely aren't someone you should be with." You open your mouth to protest but his sharp gaze makes you stop. "If you have not understood it yet, let me say it out loud. I am trouble. People like me is always bad news. Whatever we did until now, I hope you forget. That's the best, ____ trust me. I think we both got what we wanted so let's call it a night." Just like that, he stands up, not waiting for your reply.

You gawk at him, baffled as he pays the bill and starts walking away. Tears burn the back of your eyes and you bite your lip to hold them back. The ending that you had expected has taken place but you are having a hard time accepting it. Your subconscious reminds you that you deliberately got yourself into this even though you saw this coming. So there is no one to blame for it but you. Grabbing your purse, you stomp your way out of the restaurant and towards Seungcheol's car.

Seungcheol barely acknowledges you as you both get in the car and he presses the key to the ignition. You are fuming in your seat, his words and the way he dismissed you cutting you deep. His words come to you, I think we both got what we wanted. You want to laugh. How can he possibly think that? Is he really so stupid or is he deliberately ignoring your interest in him? You want to smack his perfect face, curse and scream at him but all you can do is sit still with your arms crossed as steam comes out of your head. Is he really not curious about your feelings? Does he possess none for you? Does these few days with you mean nothing to him? You have so many unanswered questions. Leaning back into your seat, you close your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

It feels like in the blink of an eye the drive to your place is over as Seungcheol halts his car in front of your apartment. He does not utter a single word, doesn't even spare a glance at you while patiently waiting for you to get out of the car.

Asshole.

You inhale deeply, trying your best to gather yourself together as you take off your seatbelt and turn towards him.

"Seungcheol?" Few seconds pass before he looks at you. Words are stuck in your throat. When your eyes meet his, you become mute, overwhelmed with emotions as your words die in your tongue. He keeps staring at you, not opening his mouth but waiting for you to speak. "Is this goodbye?" Your voice breaks.

"I believe we don't have any reason to see each other. We both got what we wanted," He says without batting an eye. You're left bemused, one step away from landing a slap on his face. How dare he say that?

"Do you really believe that?" Your words come out as an accusation. "I wanted to go out with you because I thought I have feelings for you! And I do! And my feelings have only increased since I first saw you. I want to see you again, Seungcheol. You may have gotten what you wanted but I didn't." Your fades into a whisper as tears burn the back of your eyes.

Seungcheol stays quiet, staring ahead, his brows knitted as if he's annoyed. "I promised you three dates, ____. And I gave you that. It's over. Your feelings? You'll get over them. It's better to be in pain for a while that be with someone like me."

"You can't say that! I get to decide for myself!"

"____," he sighs, rubbing his temples. "I'm a bad man. You should leave while you still have a good image of me. You'll get hurt because of me and I've caused enough pain to enough people. Just...go. Just forget me." You stare at him as frustrated tears roll down your cheeks. He doesn't meet your gaze but turns his head the other way. You are angry, infuriated and heart broken all at a time. Clenching your fists you inhale a shaky breath before reaching for him.

Before you can chicken out, you tilt his face towards you and quickly press your lips against his. Seungcheol seems to be shocked as a small gasp leaves his mouth but you don't let him push you away. Instead one of your hands come to rest on his thigh as he other cups his face to keep his mouth against yours. You kiss him with all you have left, pouring in every bit of passion and love for him as your tongues intertwine. By the time you are both breathless, Seungcheol gently pushes you back and peers into your eyes. "That's all I can give you, ____." He says, his voice the softest you have heard. You are broken into a million pieces and as much as your heart wants to cling to him, you suddenly feel tired, deflated like a popped balloon. Your emotions have drained you out and left nothing and right now, breathing almost seems too painful for you. Taciturnly, you grab your purse and step out the convertible. You hear another door shut behind you but you don't look back as your heavy steps carry you to the entrance of your building. When you are about to enter your apartment, you accumulate all your strength and courage to spare one final glance at him.

Turning around you see Seungcheol standing by his car, hands in his pockets, simply watching you. Even though your eyes are locked on each other, you don't see any emotion in them. He looks like the same expressionless, mysterious man you saw the first day. The man you fell in love with. Taking in his gorgeous features one last time, you bite your lip and turn away, forcing yourself to walk inside your apartment building.

Your chapter with Seungcheol ends here.

Epilogue

A/N : Okay so idk why this fucking app is being like this but it says I reached the maximum of 250 blocks but I thought tum1r didn't have a word limit?? Anyway so I've decided to break it up and put the rest of the fic in another post. Please click epilogue to read that.

Taglist: @koo-18 @shiningstar-byulxx @pcisonedhaos @happyvitamin @yoongischeeksluv @haluim17 @nayam14 @horanghae-gumanhae @cottonsthings @hotcheetosnorter99 @peekabooseoksoon @acapellaanna @amixoferrthang

#seventeen scoups #scoups imagines #scoups fluff #scoups smut #seventeen #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen seungcheol #kpop drabbles #kpop smut

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joaquinwhorres · 4 years ago

Text

gazes (joaquín torres x reader)

SUMMARY ››››› It's become increasingly apparent to Sam and Bucky that you and Joaquin cannot take your eyes off each other. Unfortunately for them, you two have decided to be Professionals and that means keeping your eyes, hands, and lips to yourselves. No matter how difficult it is.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,716

WARNINGS ››››› sexy times implied

A/N ››››› Ok so these headcanons y'all have been sending me are incredible. I read these two back to back and I just had to write something connecting them.

The kid had no tact.

Sam wasn't exactly sure why he expected more from the guy who'd led into his theory that Steve was on the moon by referencing vague internet rumors, but even despite that, he'd assumed Joaquin possessed some sense of subtlety.

Instead he was over at the leg press trying and failing not to stare at Y/N as she bent over at the middle to help Bucky push deeper into the stretch.

"You know she could hit you with a harassment claim for staring at her like that."

Joaquin jumped, the weights dropping suddenly with a loud clang. Across the gym, Bucky laughed as Y/N whipped around to face the two men. "Everything ok?" Her voice sounded genuinely concerned, and Sam couldn't help but smirk as Joaquin turned towards her, giving a little wave.

"Foot slipped," he answered, and she nodded, turning back to Bucky quickly.

"Foot slipped," Sam mocked.

"Dude, you scared the shit out of me."

"If you paid half the amount of attention you give to Y/N to your surroundings, you'd have known I'd been standing here for three minutes."

Joaquin gave a defensive scoff. "I wasn't staring at her--I was just--" he stopped, searching for an excuse, and Sam raised his eyebrows.

When it was clear Joaquin couldn't find a convincing enough lie to end the sentence, Sam shook his head. "You know, if you talk to her, she might actually let you take her out."

"I talk to her," Joaquin protested.

Sam shook his head, uncrossing his arms. "No, I mean talk to her. Chat her up. You've gotta have some game, right?"

"I've got game..." His sentence trailed off as he turned to look in her direction, finding her standing over Bucky's feet with her hands on her hips. "But like, we're co-workers, you know? I don't want to make things awkward around the gym or the compound or anything."

"Joaquin," Sam said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're already making things awkward."

"He's staring at your ass again."

"And you're trying to get out of stretching again," you quipped, moving Bucky's leg closer to his chest. The super soldier tilted his head as if to acknowledge the legitimacy of your accusation.

"Doesn't change the fact that I think you're about to give him a heart attack."

"I highly doubt he's worried in the slightest about my ass. He's probably zoned out."

"He's definitely focused in...on--"

"On my ass," you finished, shaking your head. You might have given Bucky's claim a little more credence if it weren't for the fact that Joaquin Torres had been anything but the consummate professional towards you. He was friendly and upbeat and welcoming, and one of the few genuinely good guys you'd ever had the pleasure of working with.

You'd never caught him staring once, and it's not like the boy was exactly known for subtlety. Last time Bucky had asked him to cover for him so you couldn't come down and teach him the right way to train his body, he'd told you that Bucky had left the compound to get you a thank you gift for all of your hard work. All while staring at the gym door.

The heavy sound of weights falling against each other echoed throughout the gym, and you spun around to face the sound. Sam hovered over Joaquin's shoulder, the latter no longer working the leg press but instead looking as if he'd just received the scare of his life.

Bucky broke into laughter, and you smacked at his leg.

"Everything ok?" you called out, and Joaquin smiled, giving a sheepish little wave at you. "Foot slipped."

"It's a good thing he wasn't at the bench press. You might have killed him."

Your head snapped back to Bucky who was giving you a shit eating grin.

"You're an asshole."

"I'm right."

"Do you think if I ask nicely Wakanda will take you back?"

"So you know I'm right."

You chanced a glance back at Joaquin who was still talking to Sam before turning back around and placing your hands on your hips. "I'm calling Ayo."

You were running early.

Not to any event in particular, but just for the general course of your day. It was rare for you to wake up to your first alarm so completely refreshed, and with a fully awake brain, you found it much easier to navigate the morning. You were able to get dressed without crawling back in bed for a few more minutes, and didn't have to battle with sleepy indecision when choosing what you wanted to eat for breakfast.

One thing after another just continued to roll your way, leading you to the gym much earlier than usual.

And that's where the luck stopped.

Or maybe it didn't stop. But it definitely took a turn. Because while you fully expected someone else to be in the gym already, you hadn't expected just one person to be in the gym. And even if you had, you wouldn't have guessed that that one person would be Joaquin. And if, for some reason, you'd had the foresight to sense that, you definitely never would have pictured him to be running on the treadmill shirtless.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes falling to the bouncing dog tags on his chest and then lower to the well defined abs you'd somehow never seen before.

It felt like you'd seen just about every man in this compound shirtless. At some point, they all seemed to strip in the gym or during one of your group training classes you ran for those who weren't field agents. Bucky was shirtless half the time you worked together. It was so normal, you hardly even blinked an eye anymore. Seeing Sam without a shirt was more rare and quite the sight, but it'd never caught your breath quite like seeing Joaquin. Joaquin, who had never so much as worn a tank top in the gym, Joaquin.

And now here he was, chest bare and heaving, feet pounding rhythmically against the treadmill, hair still messy from his pillow and sweat. Your brain couldn't seem to function correctly, offering you images of the sight before you, only closer. Much closer. Hovering inches over your stretched out body as the headboard behind you rammed into the wall with the force of each thrust--

"Hey," Joaquin greeted, noticing you standing off to the side. You blinked, heat rushing to your face as he turned the treadmill down to a more leisurely pace. "Something wrong with my form?"

It was tempting to lie and offer to "help him fix it." Or to be completely honest and tell him you'd never seen a human form as perfect as his.

But neither of those responses were professional or even appropriate, and you needed this job.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "No, I was just wondering why you were wearing those," you said, gesturing to his dog tags, and allowing your eyes to fall to his chest once more. You followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down his body, heading to the waistband of his shorts. Joaquin reached to touch his tags, causing them to jingle together once more and pull your attention up to him.

"It's hard to let them go," he smiled, ruefully, hitting the button so the belt slowed even more. "I'd say it's a habit, putting them on, but at this point they're just like a part of me."

You nodded, wishing you'd taken this conversation anywhere but to the idea of dog tags and what they stood for. It wasn't so much a mood killer but a guilt inducer because instead of you feeling embarrassed and somber, all you wanted to do was grab them and pull him closer to you.

He must have read the conflict on your face because he gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, sorry, it's kinda morbid."

"No," you shook your head, clearing it of the daydream induced fog. "I probably shouldn't have asked."

"No, nah, it's cool," his smile grew into grin, as the belt came to a stop. He leaned his forearms against the console, staring at you as if waiting for you to continue the conversation. Which you were not equipped to do with a smiling and shirtless and sweaty Joaquin Torres right before you.

"Well, thanks for being cool about it," you said with a nod.

My God, something was wrong with you. They were just abs. And sure, maybe the abs belonged to the man who not only found the time to moonlight as a superhero but star in your increasingly dirty dreams of late, but it was just a body party that you'd seen a million times.

But never on Joaquin.

You blamed everything your brain was doing to you on Bucky and all of his stupid comments about Joaquin's supposed fixation on your ass. You wondered what he would say if he could see you now. "And I thought I was half machine. I could practically see your brain short circuiting." or "If that's what you're like when you see him half-naked, how are you ever going to--"

"Yeah, of course," Joaquin said, still smiling, his eyes lifting up over your shoulder as the other door to the gym opened and Sam came in. "Hey," he greeted with a jerk of his chin.

"Hey," Sam said, drawing closer, his eyes on you. You forced a smile on to your own face, and lifted a hand, not trusting anything that was coming out of your mouth.

"You're here early," the other man said, stepping onto the treadmill next to Joaquin's, and putting his water bottle down next to the machine.

Both of them were looking at you now, and it's not like you could handle staying in this gym any longer. "I came down looking for my water bottle. I think I left it here yesterday."

Sam raised his eyebrows glancing around the gym, and Joaquin stepped down off of the machine. "Do you want help looking for it?" he asked, and your whole body seemed to tense up at the idea, your brain transporting you to a future scenario where the two of you wandered around the room, Joaquin next to you or behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, all the while searching for a water bottle that was sitting on your dresser.

"No." Your voice came out too high, but you tried to play it off, shaking your head. "I've already interrupted your workout enough. It's either by the weights or not in here."

"Alright," he nodded. "If you need any help looking around the compound though, let me know."

"Thanks," you said. And then you gave another stupid wave and beelined it for the weight racks because you had to get out of here.

You made a show of looking next to each section of weights, even bending over to check underneath of them as if it could have been knocked under somewhere. After you felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to be convincing, you straightened up, empty handed. You turned back to Joaquin and Sam, both watching you rather than continuing their workouts as you might have hoped.

"Not here," you called back with a shrug and then left the gym and headed straight up to your shower.

He was nothing if not predictable.

The minute Y/N bent over to check behind the weight rack, his eyes were glued to her. Or perhaps more accurately, the bright teal spandex shorts she wore. As she pulled herself back up from searching for her water bottle and turned to them, Joaquin quickly looked to Sam as if the two had been talking the whole time and then "casually" returned to her.

"Not here!" she said, shrugging and then walking out of the gym, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left through the door Sam had just entered by.

"So, what'd I interrupt?"

Joaquin looked up at Sam as if remembering he was there. "What?"

"You know, when the two of you were sitting by this machine making eyes at each other? Did you actually say anything to her or….?"

Joaquin shook his head. "No, she just came in and, uh, we chatted for a second, and then…" he trailed off, as if not fully remembering any of the past ten, twenty, however many minutes.

"You just chatted," Sam repeated, the disbelief on his face edging into his voice.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded.

"Anywhere in this chat you finally ask her out?"

"Nah, it didn't feel right."

"It didn't--she was practically taking off the other half of your clothes with her eyes," Sam sputtered, gesturing to Joaquin's shorts.

The kid laughed and shook his head as if Sam didn't know what he was talking about. Joaquin moved to exit the gym as well. "I'll see you later, man," he said, leaving a very exasperated Sam behind.

Bucky Barnes was a motherfucking liar.

"Let's grab a drink on Friday," he said.

"Consider it me making it up to you for being such a pain in your ass," he said.

"I'll buy," he said.

Mothefucker.

This wasn't just you and your favorite co-worker getting a drink. This was a goddamn set up. Because one hour and three mojitos into the night, Sam and Joaquin walked in the front door.

"I fucking hate you," you said, glaring up at his stupid smug face.

"Well, what a surprise, he grinned, as you shook a finger up at him.

"I told you in confidence I'm a flirty drunk."

He snorted, giving you a look out the side of his eyes. "You told me you were a flirty drunk after you sent me several highly inappropriate drunk text messages about what you wanted to do to a certain Lieutenant, who," the self-satisfied smile was back on Bucky's face. "Is making his way over to us right now."

"When I get home, I swear to God, I'm buying you a ticket to Wakanda."

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "You're not going to do it now?"

"I didn't bring my credit card because you said you were paying," you huffed.

Before Bucky could respond, Sam and Joaquin were next to the two of you, greeting Bucky with hand slaps and one armed hugs. Sam came around and wrapped an arm around you first before sliding into the seat next to Bucky, and Joaquin came forward, giving you a quick hug.

Which was a first.

More than the feeling of his back underneath your palm, or the way he seemed to emanate warmth, you were done in by how absolutely incredible he smelled. But before you could fully identify whether it was his shampoo, a cologne, or just him, he pulled away and took the only other available seat near the group--the one next to you.

"I see you started without us," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the assortment of glasses that sat before you. Most of them were Bucky's as he downed beers faster than should have been humanly possible.

"Hard drinker, huh Y/N," Joaquin teased, shooting you a smile.

"Pfft," you dismissed. "Only three are mine."

"Three?" Sam asked, leaning forward to better look at you. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour," you said, completely unnecessarily leaning forward too.

Bucky shrugged. "I got the time wrong."

"Guess we better catch up then," Joaquin said, and you sank back into your chair, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge.

"If you can."

They did.

You were outpaced fairly quickly against the two soldiers and one super soldier. The rum-induced fuzziness around the edges of your brain was compounded by having Joaquin so close to you. At some point he'd pulled his chair a bit closer to yours so that he could better hear the conversation, and you don't remember when it happened, but his arm had also slid around the back of your chair. To your relief neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to acknowledge this. In fact, Bucky was positively quiet and normal all things considered. Everything was going better than you could have expected.

Until the music kicked up.

Sam was the first to be dragged onto the dance floor. He was Captain America. Of course he'd been targeted by the stunning girl in the red dress who'd only had to come up and ask "Does Captain America dance?" to succeed in pulling him off to the dance floor.

Bucky was next. Although he wasn't tugged onto the dance floor by his hand the way Sam was. It was the sight of the person in the tight black number that did him in, luring him away to the dance as if drawn by a magnet.

And then it was you and Joaquin, sitting at the bar. Alone. Together.

You looked up from your drink, pushing the straw down into the ice to stir up the clinking sounds, and he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle back down on the bar.

"Alright, let's dance," he said, nodding with his head towards the crowd, and you let out a disbelieving snort.

"I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can dance," you attempted to clarify, although you had a feeling words were failing you at the moment. "But that's real dancing, and I can't do that."

"I guess you're lucky you have a really good teacher asking you to dance then," Joaquin grinned, holding out a hand. You looked down at his open palm, hesitating only for a second before you slid your hand into his and jumped down from your chair.

He led you out through the moving bodies expertly, dodging couples who were clearly more into the dancing than each other and couples where the complete opposite was true. The small bit of space he found you was closer to the center of the dance floor than you'd usually feel comfortable with, but when he turned towards you with that look on his face, any of your residual anxiety had vanished.

"Ok, come close," he said, and you took a small step closer to him, causing him to laugh. "Closer." He gestured, and you moved forward some more, Joaquin's hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you even closer. His hands rose, one finding its way to your mid-back, pushing your elbow up to rest on his, as the other took your hand and placed it over shoulder.

"This ok?" he asked, eyebrows raised, and you nodded, trying to keep your attention on him, his instructions and his words, and not the way that you could feel just about every part of him from the way he was angled against you. His right side was flush against your left, and his knee pushed between yours.

"Just follow me," he said, his head bent close to yours. Before you could even respond, he started to move, pulling you along with him through the dance. It was smooth and rolling and you'd never seen a guy able to roll his hips like Joaquin. He seemed to know exactly how to guide you, moving his body to push and pull yours along whenever you hesitated or felt lost, coaxing waves and movements out of you that you didn't know you could do. Each success was met with a small word of praise and a brilliant smile, as his hands shifted to hold you closer, and you wrapped your own hand around his neck to better feel and predict his movements.

It felt as if a fog had rolled in over the dancefloor, obstructing all else from view so it was just you and Joaquin, eyes locked to each other as you moved together, occupying the same space.

The song faded into the next one, and Joaquin stopped. You went to move backwards, to give him space and have him move on as many other of the more skilled dancing couples seemed to do, switching partners amongst each other. But he kept you close to him, hand sliding down to your waist.

"Now you can really dance," he teased, his eyes shining as they stared into yours.

"Only with you." It was supposed to be a self-deprecating joke, but it came out too quiet and earnest. Joaquin licked his lips, and your eyes followed the gesture, flickering between his mouth and his eyes.

You don't remember making the decision. You only remember, moving even further into his arms, and pushing yourself up to reach his lips with your own. He bent down to meet you, pulling you even closer and pressing his hard body into yours. His lips moved as slowly and sensually as his hips had, drawing you in and guiding you through a careful rhythm that promised much, much more.

Sam sat with Bucky at the bar. Joaquin and Y/N had disappeared somewhere amongst the dance floor, hidden amongst the crowd.

"You think it worked?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"If it didn't we're screwed," Sam shook his head, taking a swig from his drink.

As if on cue, the two emerged from the swaying bodies, hand in hand, sweaty and much happier than they had been when Sam had left them at the bar.

"We're gonna head back to the compound," Joaquin said with practiced casualness.

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, and Sam swore there was mischief literally glinting in his eyes.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded too fast and too many times. "Yeah, Y/N forgot about something there…"

"What'd you forget?" Bucky asked, turning to Y/N with a wolfish smile.

"Nothing. We're going to have sex," Y/N said, flatly, causing Sam to nearly spit out his drink. "And if you say one more word, I know a pilot who will fly you to Wakanda himself. No ticket needed."

Bucky mimicked zippering his lips into a smug look, and she rolled her eyes before tugging Joaquin out of the bar by his hand. And he followed. Eyes glued to her ass.

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