#i see his stupid mean little smile and his stupid awful little dimples and wanna both strangle him but also | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-some-random-blogger · 3 years ago

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Death By Bagel

NCT Culinary Student!Mark Lee x Fashion Design Student!Reader Summary: Mark makes a cake cause he's realized he can't lose you to some f-boy. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, childhood au, college au, slowish burn, slight cursing, reallllly fluffy, some broksi-dude action, typos sksksksks, etc.

R E Q U E S T my friend: mark lee, slow burn, friends to lovers

A/N: I wrote a fic that already had like 1k+ word then I LOST IT (i think i deleted it) thus this. It took me 10 years to write this msmsmkskskks. PLEASE TUMBLR IS MESSING WITH ME AND MIXED UP THE ORDER OF SOME OF THE DIALOGUE

“As a doctor, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Mark says, not even bothering to look at his patient seated rudely on the floor. Oop, he’s lying down now.

Mark huffs and looks up from the clay block he was molding on his tray, “YOU’RE SO UNPROFESSIONAL!”

Mark’s mother nearly spits out her coffee upon hearing the words of his five-year-old son. Her husband snorts, “He got that from you.”

The woman throws a look at the man and was supposed to give a snarky retort, up until the sound of the doorbell ringing. She grins from ear-to-ear and dashes to get the door.

When she comes back to the living room, she’s accompanies by another woman and a tiny version of her.

“Markie! Say hello to your Auntie!” Mark’s mom calls.

Mark from the carpeted floor looks up and blinks, examining the stranger-woman and its human-ling. Mark turns to his father who was sat on the couch and receives a nod of approval almost. Mark purses his lips and waves at the woman.

The woman waves back and then crouches down to the little girl, “Baby, say hello to Mark.”

Unwilling, she shakes her head.

“Aw come on, baby. Don’t be shy. Mark over there is a really sweet boy. I knew him when he was in his mommy’s tummy, just like Mark’s mom knew you when you were in mine. You’re the same age so you’ll get along just fine.”

With the unnecessary explanation that gave no justification to the scene whatsoever out of the way, the girl was fooled into peeping up, “Hi, Mark.”

“Hello,” Mark says, not particularly interested, as his patient was still in the midst of dying in his office. He turned to his stuffed toy called Mr. Lion and attempted to stand him up once more.

At this point, the girl makes her way to Mark.

“We’ll be back in two hours, honey. Keep an eye on the children,” Mrs. Lee tells his husband who had been occupied with TV the entire time.

“Yeah. I got this,” he smiles to his wife then goes back to watching.

The bumble bee clad figure sat down to Mark in blue and watched him play.

Mark ignored her for a few seconds, needing to assert all efforts on standing that dumb toy up. Once successful, Mark turns to her, “Do you play doctors?”

Mark was then met with the same lack on enthusiasm. She hums, “I like playing baker doctor.”

All at once, Mark gasps, “ME TOO!”

It was unbeknownst to the children it was oddly specific and the chance of this happening was pretty slim.

And in a blink of an eye, excited giggles erupt in the room, as if they had been having so much fun before this scene. It was here and there the two would become best friends to the very end.

... so I guess it means the reckoning is upon us.

“MARK LEE I SWEAR TO THE FU--” “WHAT! WHAT!?” Mark laughs.

"YOU ATE MY BAGEL! AGAIN!" I growl in a loud whisper, throwing the wrapper at him and his flat head before he could think to dodge it while he annoyingly laughs.

"I asked if I could have it though!" he says, fully knowing his sins.

I glared at him and say lowly, "I thought you were referring to my notes, bread for brains."

Mark snorts loud enough for our teacher to wake up from his nap. Once the class notices, we all pretend to be doing something productive and Mark plays it off with a cough.

"Mr. Lee." Mr. Kim says sternly, clicking his tongue, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Mark finishes coughing and turns to our seated professor, "Yes sir."

"Don't go to school if you're sick and going to cause a racket with your coughing."

Mark nods firmly and Mr. Kim closes his eyes again, mumbling, "page 65 is due tomorrow."

The entire class grumbles. Mark beside me scoffs and makes a face, "Yeah, yeah, Doyoung."

I turn to him and elbow his side.

"Whatever," Mark shakes his head, "professor bunny-teeth won't hear me."

Once class ended, we both get our things and head out for lunch. We walk to our canteen, fussing over assignments, deciding we should do it together later in our mutually free period.

I groan and narow your eyes at him as we have an argument over how he hasn't finished the essay for English, "That's not the point."

"Yo Mark!" a voice calls from afar. Mark and I turn, looking for the voice, and I spot the dimpled senior, Jung Jaehyun, in a table with the rest of his squad.

I nudge Mark and point at the pale guy seated by the corner.

Mark throws him a smile and waves. I follow closely behind him as he walks over to the table. "We're going to sit with them?" I say in some sort of gasp.

"Yeah." Mark replies simply, not bothering to turn to me, "they're cool."

I knit my brows at that and nod, "Yeah I know. But I'm not cute today."

Mark stops in his tracks and throws me a confused look, "what?"

"I didn't put any make-up on today, also I'm pretty sure there's a visible stain somewhere on my jacket, I just don't remember where."

Mark scrunches his face up again, even more confused. "What? How do you... forget a stai-- that's not the point. Why do you wanna look cute today?" He scoffs and continues lowly, "hardly as if you ever look cute."

I let out an annoyed groan and punch Mark's shoulder. "Like when you panicked when Seulgi came over and asked for notes."

Mark openes his mouth, "That is so not the same! Jaehyun's a fuck bo-"

"Just shut up already," I snap and shove him forward so he'd continue walking. "Let's not keep him waiting," I add and mumble, "also I know. Dong Sicheng however is very cute."

Mark chuckles, "he's dated every girl on the dance team."

"Okay, maybe not that cute."

"Ya, Mark," Jaehyun grins and greets the said person with a high-five and chest bump. He turns to me and speaks my name with a smile. I smile back politely and wave.

I'm about to sit next to Sicheng, but Mark shoves me and so I end up sitting on the other side of the bench table with Jaehyun. I turn to Jaehyun with a small, non-awkward smile and shoot Mark a glare. He seems unbothered though.

"So, you up for a round later?" Jaehyun asks Mark.

Mark talks over me, "you know it, dude."

Jaehyun flashes his dimple smile all the stupid girls fall for. I'm only half falling for it cause I'm only half stupid. He raises his brows, "you bought the dough, right?"

This makes me knit my brows.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I really did this time," Mark mumbles quickly. "It's my turn anyway."

Jaehyun gives an off look, "that's literally what you said last time bro."

"Yo, no for real. It's in my bag, if you wanna check."

Jaehyun shakes his head when Mark begins to scramble for it, "no, Lee, it's good. We wouldn't want you friend to get dirty."

Is it just me or do you feel slimey all of a sudden?

Jaehyun then gives me a somewhat, somehow sincere smile, "so. I hear you're in fashion design."

I give a soft chuckle, "yeah. That's me."

"I could tell from a mile away. Mark looks horrible next to your getup."

I look down at my sweater and ripped jeans. Mark exclaims in protest, "shut the hell up, Jae."

I give a soft smile at Jaehyun, "don't know where that comes from but thanks I guess."

Jaehyun chuckles, "I'm kidding," he eyes Mark, "I saw your Fashion Design pin on your bag when you sat down."

"Oooohhhh, haha, okay, that makes sense."

"Ya, Jeff," Sicheng calls for Jaehyun, "it's almost time."

Jaehyun turns to his friend and nods. He turns back to me and Mark, "well, it's nice to meet you. Mark won't put a sock in it even if I beg. See you around, fashionista."

He stands and slaps Mark's back, "see ya later, broski."

"Yeah, bruh," Mark replies.

Once it's just Mark and I, I snap at him and blurt out in a whisper yell, "YOU'RE ON BROSKI LEVEL WITH JUNG JAEHYUN?!"

Mark gives me a weird face, "bruh, I think he calls the principal broski, for real."

I smack Mark, making him whine, "you know what I'm talking about, Mark! And what, are you doing drugs?!?"

He shakes his head in confusion, "Wait, what!? Who the hell told you that?"

"Uhhhhh you were talking about dough and showing up later. Sounds like you owe him money for drugs, Mark."

"??? In what universe did we even mention drugs?? Does this," he slaps his face, "look like a face of a drug addict to you?"

"A gullible idiot maybe."

Mark's jaw drops, "oh wow, okay. I'm done with this conversation." He proceeds to stand attempt to walk away. I scoff, "not on my watch bitch."

Like the true idiot that he is, Mark begins to legit run away from me, like a criminal who stole my cookies. It's embarrassing that he, a man much taller than I, could not even outrun me. I suppose I should be grateful, but this just fortifies my thoughts of him being an idiot even more.

But okay... I wasn't actually expecting this... like... Mark and Jaehyun... like... actually baking bread after school with dough Mark premade at home. Also, uh, Jaehyun looks super cute in an apron that I'm having a mental breakdown. And what's new, so does Mark.

"I can't believe you thought I was a drug dealer," Jaehyun says in a soft pout as he rolls out dough on the marble counter of his friggin large kitchen in his friggin large house. Like dang, I knew he was rich, but he's like Rich™ Rich. Rich with a golden diamond encrusted Rolex watch rich that's in a glass display rich-- wtf.

Mark wheezes in his telltale high pitched laugh as he opens a pack of unsweetened chocolate pellets, "she thought dough was some sort of metaphor or something."

"Cute," they say at the same time. Mark turns to Jaehyun in slight surprise and Jaehyun turns to me. I roll my eyes, though I feel my neck burn. I avert my attention to the scene I was sketching on my pad, Jaehyun and Mark baking croissants. I clear my throat, "I'm just making use of the single braincell between us, cause if he doesn't die falling down the stairs, he's gonna pull some idiotic stuff like baking with Jung Jaehyun."

Oddly, it's Mark that reacts to that with a, "hey!"

Jaehyun rubs his chin on his shoulder, "I also can't believe you think so little of me.'

I break a sweat but decide to answer honestly, "... ... ... You have a reputation."

"Of being a fuck boy?"

Mark loudly transfers the chocolates into a metal bowl, making the two of us snap at him. Mark makes a face, "oh gosh, sorry."

Jaehyun sighs, "well. I admit I get around, but that's only because I get dumped every time."

I raise a brow.

Jaehyun purses his lips, "nah, let's not make this weird. The croissants will be flat."

"Dude," Mark turns to him, "that's literally only because you messed up the recipe."

Jaehyun grits his teeth, "no. It's because Kun's a little teacher's pet and sabotaged me so he could get the best grade."

"No, but like Kun is really nice, he helped me with the fold techinique."

Jaehyun scoffs, "He stole me vanilla extract, Mark. Who does that?!"

"No, listen, he's cool, like, for real--"

"No, you listen, he's a little shit and--"

The two begin to bicker like a married couple, and I begin to draw inspiration form the scene to design some random sketches of wedding dresses.

I look back to the two and still can't get over the fact that I learned Jaehyun was a culinary arts major with my best friend, and that I was currently in the Jung's boojie home because I thought Mark was buying drugs from him. Not what I was expecting at all my day to go like, but I'm not mad this is how it went.

"No, no, no, no," Jaehyun says. He turns to me and points, "let's just get an outside opinion. Babe, what's your favorite color?"

"BABE?!" Mark barks.

I take a moment to reply. I blink slowly, "uhh... pink?"

Jaehyun bites his lower lip and claps his flour covered hands, "Right. Pink croissants it is."

Mark shoots him a glare and turns to me, back to Jaehyun, "she has a name."

Jaehyun nods, "yeah, and she wants pink croissants."

Mark makes a face and Jaehyun examines it, chuckling under his breath. "Wah, you two are something, huh."

No one really responds.

We began to always eat lunch with Jaehyun and his friends. It's funny cause I realized Jaehyun, although I still firmly believed he was out to get nasty with every other girl he sees, he was actually just like Mark. A total loser with a love for cooking.

"Hey," Mark says with a snippy tone.

I give him a look and suddenly receive a paper bag to my face. Mark sits on his chair next to me, as per usual. I smell the thing before I realize what it is. It's a freshly baked bagel. I perk up and smile, "Aw, you baked me a bagel?"

Mark raises his upper lip, "no. Jaehyun did."

I knit my brows, "what? Why?"

Mark narrows his brows, "do you, like, like him?"

I give him a look. I take a bite of the bagel, making Mark look at me in disbelief. I answer, "You do know I only hang with him cause you do, right?"

"Then why'd you eat the bagel then?"

"Uh, a number of reasons. 1) it's a bagel, 2) free food, 3) I'm starving, 4) it smells amazingggg."

Mark does a face, "fair. I've been meaning to ask how he does his seasoning for a while now too." He releases a breath, "and anyway, I'm pretty sure he made a bagel cause I told him you liked them. Never talking about you to him anymore though."

I look at him, "why do you talk about me so much to him anyway?"

"Uh because you're amazing," Mark says instinctively.

I feel my heart skip at that. I coo and place my hands on my chest, "wait that's really sweet."

Mark looks at me. His face begin to shift, "too bad it's a lie- haha."

I give him a look and rebut, "jerk."

"Loser."

As quickly as I found out about Jaehyun being Mark's friend, that's about as quickly as I found out he didn't like hanging out with him anymore. It's kind of a shame I never got to go back to his boojie house.

There was this one encounter I had with Jaehyun though... which was a little weird, not gonna lie.

He was waiting for me outside my Tailoring class, smiling and waving when he saw me. I Reluctantly reciprocated and walked over to him.

He releases a breath, "I've been waiting for about 20 minutes for you. I didn't know when your class would end."

I raise my brows, "you could have asked?"

"Well I would need your number for that, and that would have ruined the surprise," he pulled out a brown paper bag, reminiscing the same one Mark chucked at my face.

"I made you two this time," he smiles.

I take a moment to reply, "you don't have to make me bagels, Jaehyun."

He grabs my hand, "yeah, but I want something out of ya," he places the bagels in my hand. He proceeds to lead us off and we begin to walk down the hall.

Truth be told, it's a little scary that his ulterior motive is up in the air. Jaehyun places his hands in his pockets, "I like your dress, by the way."

I smile, "thanks. I made it."

He smiles and nods, "right. That makes sense as to why it suits you well."

I can't help but blush at that, and simultaneously feel conscious when I realize a bunch of girls in my course are looking at me and Jaehyun as we strut down the hall.

"So, what did you want, Jaehyun?"

"Well, I clearly wanted to ask you out."

"..."

Jaehyun smiles and give a soft laugh, "is it so ground breaking?"

"... Uh..."

He sniggers, "hey, you can say no. I mean I hope you don't but you can." Jaehyun leans in and raises his hands, "I won't like it, but a man should take rejection from a lady well."

I turn to him as he straightens up. I turn to the bagels he made me and bring it back to him. He laughs, "no, I made them for you really. It's not poisoned, in fact it's made with love."

I visibly react to that, which makes Jaehyun wheeze. I can't help but laugh back, "that was hella tacky."

"Worth a shot though," he says. "Good luck with Mark."

I look at him with silence and he chuckles, "ya, you can't fool me."

I'm about to retort but then Jaehyun gets called by one of the frats dudes I identify as Johnny Seo. Jaehyun does a curtsy and clicks his tongue, "see ya later babez."

"You know, I would have said yes if you didn't do stuff like that."

Jaehyun purses his lips, "no you wouldn't."

I shrug, "worth a shot though."

Jaehyun places a hand on his chest, dramatically calling, "Uh, rejection hurts, man."

Yeah, I never went to Jaehyun's boojie house ever again.

Silver lining though was Mark's dorm smelled equally as nice because of all the food he cooks, although it came with a whiff of axe body spray from his roommate, Lucas. It's cool though, he was almost never around for me to smell it in its whole intensity.

"Aite," Mark calls from his side of the dorm. I perk up from the two seater dining table they had and turn to Mark who was covering the cake he was making for his finals.

"Don't, like, peek, okay. I want you to see the cake all at once and give me your honest reaction to it. Please, like, all my lives kinda depend on it."

"How many lives do you have?"

"9, I'm pretty sure."

I stand from my seat, "not you faking your life as a cat, but get it I guess."

Mark raises a hand at me as I walk over, "can you not, I'm high-key panicking right now."

"Over what? You literally made a box of donuts for your midterms and it looked better than Misty Mreme! I'm sure your cake is hot."

"It was in the minifridge for a day. I mean it barely fit cause of all of Lucas' mountain dew."

I groan, "just show me it, Mark Lee!"

Mark whined and dashes over to me, grabbing my shoulders, "okay, but like, don't be mean about it. I swear, I might cry."

I give a sound and fake cough, "it's ugly."

Mark doesn't respond to that particular jab, "I'm serioussss. Please be kind, okay?"

I look at Mark's nervous face and give a soft pout, "Markie, please, not that I think it would be ugly, but I promise you don't have to be nervous about my reaction."

He isn't soothed by that, but he does release a sigh, "okay. So for context, Mr. Moon wanted the cake to be one or two tiers, but I went with one, cause there aint no way I'm going to the other side of the campus to freeze a two tiered cake. Then, the theme was something from your childhood, so, I, uh, thought this was fitting. The exam is 60 percent decoration, 40 percent taste by the way."

Mark gives me a hesitant look, but steps way for me to see it. I then see a heart shaped, medium sized cake in my favorite pastel pink color. By the top there's a little boy on the floor playing with a toy oven set and little girl in a bumble bee dress, holding a stethoscope. At the bottom of the cake, there were jelly letters spelling out, "I like you."

I cup my cheeks at the sight of it and feel my eyes start to well at the sentiment.

Wait... was this really happening?

Mark heaves in and out, "okay, so like when Jaehyun began to like hit on you, that sucked pretty hard because he's known for getting girls and I thought maybe he'd get you too and I got panicky. Anyway, I....... have liked you since we were kids... And... I know you probably don't feel the same way but I have to try, you know.... Yolo."

My feel my tears retract from what I hear. I rub my eyes. I turn to Mark and find his nervous face. "Did you just say yolo in your confession, Mark?"

He looks like he's about to throw up.

I can't help but chuckle and pout, "dude..."

I prolong the moment. Mark gets even more nervous as he repeats softly, "dude..."

"We could have dated in grade school all this time."

It takes a moment to register in his head.

Like, a really long moment.

I sigh, "Mark! I like you too, dummy."

He freezes and blinks. His face begins to burn. He breaks into a soft smile, "nice."

I break into a laugh.

"... Uh... So... Can I like... Kiss you?"

I snort and feel my own cheeks begin to burn, "I think you should refrigerate your cake first."

Mark snaps out of this trance, "oh shoot, you-" I give him a quick peck on the lips.

He is dumbfounded.

I feel butterflies go wild in my stomach.

"I'll wait over there for when you've fixed that."

Mark watches as I walk away, "yooo.... That's not fair though."

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soramei · 3 years ago

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Intentional - Part 5

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: cursing, eventual smut

Word Count: 4.0k

Masterlist

A/N: yeah so about that upload... i was really busy this whole week but i hope to start uploading mondays again! thanks for understanding!!

Taglist (reply to be tagged!): @planetdemon @hvunvely @fluffybitch0325 @fashi0nablee @juststop88 @straykisz @theultimaterad @margaritas-en-la-montania @meowtella

There was a pause in the phone call.

You started biting your nails, instantly regretting what you had just done. Basking in your stupidity, you could only wait for his response, for it was too late to retract what you had just said. Your day must have been worse than you thought. It must have been so bad that you had the nerve to ask Bang Chan — an idol, a person with a strict schedule, somebody who you had an argument with — to come over to your pathetic little apartment.

You kept nibbling on your fingers.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

You froze, eyes wide.

“Huh?” You were bewildered. You weren’t even expecting an answer, much less this.

“It’s cold this late at night,” he explained, “I’ll be there soon.”

You didn’t know what to say. You heard rustling on the other side of the call.

“Wait, I’ll tell you my address,” you blurted out.

“You did,” he said.

You frowned, trying to remember if you did or not. That’s right. You blushed at the memory of your first day of work.

“Oh yeah, umm, I’ll hang up now.” You awkwardly said, hanging up before Bang Chan could fit another word in.

You were a statue in your own apartment, clinging on to the last words exchanged on your phone. In actuality, you didn’t know why you asked him to come over. It was just blurted out in the moment. Or maybe it was a result of your extremely frustrating day. Either way, you felt extremely embarrassed that you did so, especially so late at night.

You started boiling some water, still trying to rationalize what you had just done. This was normal for friends, right? Na-eun and Yoojin came over just yesterday and you were friends with both of them. You knew for a fact that you two were friends, but you still couldn’t find an explanation for the strange feeling in your chest whenever you were around him.

Turning your phone on, you checked your face in the selfie camera. It was a miracle that your makeup didn’t smudge off. You thanked your new ‘CLIO’ foundation cushion, it looked like all that time you spent doing your makeup didn’t go to waste. You stared at your reflection for a couple more seconds before turning your phone off. Why did it matter what you looked like anyways? You wiped off any remaining lipstick with the back of your hand.

The kettle started rumbling, letting you know that the water was ready. You took out your mug to prepare some tea. It was a bad idea to have tea this late at night, but there was something about your mother’s tea that could knock a grown man out.

Sipping your tea, you turned on Youtube to an episode of a Korean web-drama that was getting really popular. It was another one with some rich CEO and a clumsy average girl, but you still watched, fully enamoured. On the recommendations list, there was a video with Felix — the other person you saw at the cafeteria on your first day — on the thumbnail. I can never escape from work, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes.

You clicked on it anyways, just to pass the time. Watching through the video, you were shocked by the production value. Well, that, and Bang Chan. Whether it was hair and makeup or just his acting, he was so different from the person you knew in real life. You were in awe by his natural charisma gleaming at you through the screen as it was a rare quality that few people you knew possessed. Embarrassingly, you found your eyes drawn to only him in every group shot. He looked good in an apron.

You got distracted by more random videos before clicking back on your drama. The next episode was just about to start when the buzzer to your apartment rang.

It was Bang Chan.

Hurriedly, you shuffled towards your door. With your hand on the handle, you took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Hey,” you smiled.

“Hey,” he smiled back. He was leaning over you, his forearm on the doorframe. His coat was bulky, almost engulfing his whole upper body. He was wearing the same beanie you saw on multiple occasions, and in his hand was a white plastic bag.

You stepped aside, silently gesturing for him to come inside. He took your hint and sauntered in the room, head turning left and right to observe his surroundings.

“It’s not much,” you blushed, realizing how small your apartment really was. You could basically see all your belongings from the center of the room.

“No, it’s cute.” Bang Chan looked at you, taking his hat off. His dimple peaked out. “I brought some leftovers from that barbecue place. The kids and I went there after our shoot today.”

So that was what the bag was. With only food on your mind, you rushed to help hang Bang Chan’s coat before setting the table up.

The food was really good. They were leftovers, but it was so good. Stuffing a bite of pork belly in your mouth, you sighed. Where was this food earlier today?

“It’s good, right?” Bang Chan asked whilst chewing on a piece of meat. “I’ll take you next time.”

It was like he read your mind. You nodded eagerly in response, to which Bang Chan replied with a smirk.

“So, uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, “how was your date today?”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to remember that embarrassment of a night. It was such a pity too, because that man was probably the most gorgeous man you’ve ever witnessed. You swore he had just stepped out of a webtoon when you first met him.

“It was alright,” you shrugged. It was difficult to reflect on the date without putting a damper on your mood, but maybe vocalizing it would have helped ease your discomfort. “He compared me to a model, you know.”

Bang Chan chuckled, making you look up in confusion.

“Was it because you looked exactly like the model?”

“No,” you replied.

His face immediately fell. “You’re kidding, right? Y/n, tell me you don’t believe anything that loser said. He’s got to be something below garbage if he was comparing two women.”

“Thanks, Chan.” You tried to force a grin on your face. “I appreciate it.”

There was a pause.

“I know my opinion means nothing, but Y/n, I think you’re beautiful.”

You stared into Bang Chan’s eyes, frozen like a statue. Your heart was beating so loud that you could hear it more than you could feel it. He stared back at you from across the table; mouth parted, breaths uneven.

You’ve received many compliments before, to which you would always reply with a smile and a quick ‘thank you’. However, it felt as if your brain malfunctioned in this moment and your heart was the only thing keeping you alive. You could still feel your body, but you couldn’t think.

“Thank you, Chan.” You awkwardly coughed, blushing profusely. Immediately focusing your eyes at the table, you couldn’t bear to keep looking at him.

The two of you ate in silence, with only the tapping of chopsticks adding to the ambience of the room. You wanted to make conversation with him, but you did not want to be the first one to break the silence. It frustrated you that you were so shy right now as you’ve never been like this back home.

To heck with it, you thought. There was no need to be shy around him.

“So,” you still couldn’t look him in the face, “any shows you’ve been watching lately?”

Small talk was good. You could do small talk.

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to watch this Transformers movie for quite a while.”

“Transformers?” You’ve never heard of that one. It must’ve been an American movie.

“Seriously?” his eyes widened. “You’ve never seen Transformers before? Oh, we’ve gotta watch it now.”

“You wanna?” you smiled. “I haven’t used my TV since moving in.”

“Mhm, let’s do it.” He stuffed the rest of the leftovers in his mouth before standing up and clearing the table.

You watched him clear the table in a trance. You should have offered to help since it was your own home, but watching the veins on his hands appear and disappear was way more interesting. Watching him, you suddenly remembered the hoodie.

“Oh, that’s right!” You exclaimed, shuffling over to the bag with the hoodie in it. Taking Bang Chan’s black hoodie out, you held it up to him with both hands.

He looked down at you and chuckled.

“Keep it,” he took it from your hands and slipped the hoodie over your head. “At least until you buy a new jacket.”

“I will.” You rolled the sleeves of his hoodie higher to show your hands. You turned the light off, leaving only the floor lamp to illuminate your apartment. Grabbing the remote from your coffee table, you summoned Bang Chan over to the couch.

You turned on the TV, fooling around with the remote control for a few seconds before giving up.

“I give up.” You sighed. Pouting, you handed the remote over to Bang Chan. He took it from you and started reading the buttons.

“Netflix, right?” Bang Chan asked, to which you nodded. “There we go.”

He scrolled through the titles, looking for the coveted movie. Once he found the movie, he quickly selected it and turned the subtitles on. That was nice of him, you thought. Although you also studied english in university, it was nowhere near the level of watching a full english movie.

The title sequence started and you tried to immerse yourself in the movie. You watched in awe, surprised at the fast pace of the action already.

Fully engrossed, you started to sink your back into the couch. Half-way throughout the title scene, you felt Bang Chan stretch his arm behind you to rest on the back pillow. Suddenly, you started feeling too aware of your surroundings. You sat up straighter.

Throughout the whole movie, you caught wafts of Bang Chan’s cologne everytime he moved. He smelled like safety and familiarity.

You turned your head up a little to get a glimpse of his profile, mapping out every edge and curve of his face. The light illuminated the tip of his nose, along with his dewy cheekbones and chin. The plum of his lips were let slightly open, allowing his teeth to peek out slightly. You unconsciously let out a sigh.

“Something wrong?” He turned his body to face you.

You shook your head and focused on the movie.

The rest of the movie was pretty good, although it lost you at parts. You watched the end credits in silence, not knowing what to say.

“So,” Bang Chan cleared his throat beside you, “I should get going now. Since it’s late.”

You turned your head to face him, not realizing how close the two of you had physically gotten throughout the movie. Looking up at him, your face was inches away from his. His face was almost enveloped by the darkness of your apartment. You heard his breathing get heavier.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “you should.”

He didn’t get up though.

You heard his staggered breath as you kept looking in his eyes. The end credits had long been over by now. Your own breath was just as shaky and you heard your heart beat out of your chest.

He started leaning in. Slowly.

Your eyes widened. You gulped, your nerves snapped you back to reality all of a sudden. Wasn’t he supposed to be your friend? This wasn’t what friends did… Right?

Clearing your throat, you leaned back shyly.

“You should go. I don’t want the others to notice you’re gone.”

Silence.

“Yeah.” Bang Chan’s lips flattened in a line. Without another word, he stood up and walked towards your door.

You followed him in silence, hoping to at least send him off. Wrapping your arms around your torso, you watched as he put his boots on in the dark. He tied his laces, and with a nod, he opened the door and stepped out.

You were left with a sour taste in your mouth and a cloudiness in your head. Still standing in front of your door, you tried to process what had just happened. However, you couldn’t. All you could think about was the soft curls of his hair, the delicate threads of his eyelashes, and his lips. The dusty rose of his lips. The parting of his lips. Inviting you in.

You were frozen, looking at nothing particularly. The only thing on your mind was Bang Chan.

The door opened.

“Hey, sorry, I forgot my jack-”

His sentence never got a chance to complete itself as you rushed to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. As your lips touched his, you felt a fire ignite in you like nothing you’ve felt before. Your fingers clawed at the nape of his neck, wanting more. Wanting to be closer.

Almost immediately, Bang Chan responded. He was taken by shock at first, but his hands didn’t waste any time to grip your waist. You felt the muscles of his shoulders tighten as he pulled you closer.

He moved you back into your apartment by the waist, lips never leaving your own. You blindly shuffled backwards, only focused on trying to get closer to him. If that was even possible.

You ignored the clunking of his boots against your clean floor, allowing him to guide you to the couch. A whimper left his lips as you used your hand to comb through his hair, pulling it. His soft brown curls were silk against your fingertips.

The back of your legs hit the couch and he turned you around so he could sit on the couch. Your lips finally left his. You gasped for air, trying to steady your deep breaths.

Bang Chan’s breathing was synchronized with yours, his equally as unsteady. He reached his hands out again, grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him. You were a ragdoll, responding to whatever he wanted to do to you.

With each knee on either side of him, you gripped his jaw and kissed him again. The fire inside of you instantly reignited. It was addicting.

The two of you didn’t dare to separate from each other, only parting to gasp for air every now and then. Even in the dark, you could imagine the plum of his lips and the threads of his eyelashes. This drove the fire in you more.

“What if the boys realize you’re gone?” you breathed out the next time you parted from his lips. They were most likely sleeping, but the thought still worried you.

“Fuck them.” Bang Chan exhaled. Grabbing the back of your neck, he reconnected his lips with yours. You gladly complied.

His sloppy kisses slowly moved from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck, eliciting a soft whimper from your throat. This seemed to only edge him on as kept leaving sloppy kisses against your neck, all the while running his hands up and down your waist.

His cologne surrounded you, keeping you safe. Soon later, the adrenaline left the two of you, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing to fill the room. You brushed your thumb under his eye to which he deeply inhaled.

“Chan?” you said. He was leaving kisses all over your collarbone.

“Hmm?” He didn’t seem to pay much mind to what you were saying.

“It’s half past three. I really think you should get going.” You didn’t want him to leave, but you were almost sure he had another packed schedule for tomorrow.

“Mhmm.” Your words went in one ear and out the other as he made his way up your neck again. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and let out a small moan.

“C’mon, get up. How did you even get here, by the way?” It took everything in you to break away from his touch, but you were starting to get sleepy.

“Taxi.” He said, helping you get up from his lap. He stood up after you, brushing his hand against your waist one last time before making his way over to his jacket.

“You’re allowed to ride a taxi?” You tilted your head, sceptical.

He slipped his jacket on.

“No.” He peppered little kisses on your cheeks. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that now.”

You giggled, pushing him by his shoulders out the door. He played along, pretending to stumble with every step he took back.

“Text me when you get home,” you said, repeating what he said to you on your first day of work.

He nodded in response and winked before turning around to head home. As soon as the door shut, you slapped both hands against your face. Your little act of impulse had spun your head in spirals. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved at the fact that Bang Chan reciprocated your impulsive actions, or to worry that you had not only just kissed your coworker — but also a freaking idol. No one — not Manager Chen, your friends, or even anyone in the general public — could know about this. If they did, both your careers would be screwed.

You doted on this thought as you got ready for bed, only the worst possible outcome came to mind. If either your manager or his manager knew about what happened tonight, you could get fired. Or even blacklisted. You sat in bed, nervously biting your nails.

Your phone buzzed.

Bang Chan: Hey, I got home. Nobody’s awake… ^^

Bang Chan: Don’t think too much, alright? It’s late, go to sleep…

You felt relief reading his text. For some reason, he knew you were overthinking your actions. You decided to listen to his words and go to sleep.

The next day, Sunday, was very uneventful compared to the day before. You texted Bang Chan back when you woke up, but because of his busy schedule, he hadn’t had the time to reply yet.

Yoojin called in when you were eating lunch, asking about your date. You told her the truth, explaining how there would definitely not be a second date with that man. She sounded disappointed and vehemently tried to set you up with another man in her pool. You politely declined, thinking about your restless night with Bang Chan.

You finished some work ahead of time to free up the next week. Since you were invited to work with Manager Chen at the content shooting, you assumed that you could lessen your work stress ahead of time.

The shooting days were allocated for Friday and Saturday, with there being an overnight stay at the mountains. Whilst you didn’t know the arrangements for Stray Kids, you were informed that the production crew booked a small lodge for the team. You were excited to not only see a behind the scenes of a real shoot, but to also possibly form a closer relationship with Manager Chen.

You were thankful that you did some work ahead of time as Monday’s workload was so much lighter than usual. People were still coming to you with their ideas for the project, but with your other work done, you had the time to go through everybody’s ideas.

You didn’t hear from Bang Chan the whole day, which was nothing out of the blue. You remembered him showing his schedule to you once. The amount of things he had to do everyday had your eyes bulging out from their sockets. All of a sudden, you were thankful for your nine-to-five job.

The next couple of days ran the same way as your Monday, with you easily breezing through your workload. Since you had more time during your breaks at work, you took to exploring the part of the building that you could. You admired all the art, the trophies, the awards and memorabilia. Of course, you also spent more time with your new friend Na-eun.

On Thursday, the day before the shoot, you were helping the producers by translating some notes for the script. All was going smoothly, when you got a text.

It was from Bang Chan.

You weren’t going to lie; you were curious as to what he sent you. He was basically silent the whole week so far, and if you were being honest, you missed hearing his voice. And seeing his face. And feeling his hands brush against your waist.

Bang Chan: Come to my recording room… I’ve got something to show you.

Your eyes lit up right away, curious as to what he wanted to show you. Quickly checking the time, you decided to take your lunch break then and there. After all, you didn’t have much work left for the day anyways.

Locking up your computer, you zoomed inconspicuously past all the other cubicles and made your way to the elevators. You weaved through the hallways of his floor, praying that your memory didn’t escape you. It seemed like your memory was on your side today as you found yourself in front of a familiar set of doors. You didn’t bother to knock before going in.

Inside was Bang Chan: feet up on the desk, drinking from his iced coffee, concentrating on his producing software. You smiled. He looked so comfortable, even in an ‘office’.

He had his headset in, and didn’t seem to notice that you had entered. You went up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He turned around, and immediately threw his feet off the desk and stood up upon seeing that it was you. You smirked.

“I should really put a ‘please knock’ sign on the door.” He cursed under his breath. He reached behind you to close the door.

You giggled.

“So, what do you have to show me?” you wondered aloud.

“A new song. Since the filming is tomorrow, the producers put me on a time crunch to finish the song by today.”

So that was why he was so busy, you thought. You didn’t realize how the sudden filming would have impacted his schedule for the month. Especially since it would take up two whole days.

He let you sit in his chair, and hovered over you to press play on the song. His chair smelled like his cologne.

As he was playing the song, your eyes drifted up to see his face. The face — even after only four days — you missed. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent. That, along with his disheveled hair, told you that he truly was dedicated to his work. You imagined him sitting where you were, two in the morning, sipping on his iced americano.

“You like it?” His eyes drifted towards you, resembling a puppy bringing a ball back to its owner.

“It’s amazing. I don’t know how you managed this in just a few days,” you said. And you were sincere too. You couldn’t imagine yourself doing any of this.

“Eh, you know, late nights.” he shrugged. “Wanna see another?”

You nodded, and the two of you began listening to another one of his songs. You listened in silent wonderment.

However, the silence didn’t last long as the two of you soon found yourselves on the couch: hands all over each other, lips the same. You were lying underneath him, his arms resting on either side of you to hold his weight up. Your lips never left his as you ran your hands up and down his defined biceps.

The two of you couldn’t stay away from each other. The sound of the songs that he had put on shuffle filled the room, along with a fleeting sigh of moan every now and then. Bang Chan’s hand had started wandering up your blouse when, all of a sudden, the door opened.

“Hey, I have the lyrics h-” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide.

Crap.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #stray kids angst #bang chan angst #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction

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yoonguurt · 4 years ago

Text

And What Would You Like?

Pairing: Jooheon x reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: thigh riding, penetrative sex, protected sex (this is the right way)

You glance at your glass self staring back at you from the mirror, looking as pleased as you felt. Your eyes scan over your reflection in all its ridiculous glory, and you let out a scoff. The woman in front of you is clad in, in your opinion, the most hideous outfit known to man. Your torso is covered in a darker green shirt with oversized golden buttons, the sleeves sliced in a way that reminds you of shark teeth, and that thought kind of makes you feel slightly better. Your leggings are probably the most comfortable leggings you’ve ever worn, but the red and white stripes printed on them make you feel like a walking candy cane. You hate candy canes. You think the shoes might actually be the worst part of this outfit, they fit fine but look far too big for your feet and the same ugly green as your shirt. They have little bells on them that jingle every time you move and the sound of bells haunts your nightmares now. Then there’s the hat. That fucking hat. No, that is definitely the worst part. It’s floppy and red and just pure uncomfortable. It itches and has a weird smell no matter how many times you wash it, and in true Christmas spirit, another damn bell.

You don’t hate your job, but you aren’t sure why you came back. The pay is ok at best, the customers can be a bit assy, but you do have your coworkers. You say coworkers, but you know you’re only thinking of one in particular. Your mind flashes an image of the cutest dimples and you know that’s the main reason you came back for a second season as one of Santa’s elves. You sigh and grab your keys and trudge out the door. Pulling into your usual spot in the mall parking lot, you feel the urge to turn your car back on and head right back home. The urge only double as you look into the mirror in your sun visor and see that stupid hat again. Your hand flies to your keys that are still in the ignition, ready to turn it and speed out of there. Your hand only has to move just a small amount and your car is ready to go, but before you make that move, you were the sweetest laugh from somewhere in your memory. You hate that just the phantom laugh has the power to make your heart flip and causes your hand to move from the keys.

Walking through the mall doors immediately makes you want to turn around. Despite the early hour, the speakers are blaring Christmas music, and though you know why, it annoys you. The murmur of constant talking adds to your already forming headache. You can see the line already beginning to form and you already know that you won’t be getting out of here till late. You weave through the small crowd gathering near the corner of the mall where everything had been set up, rounding the corner only to pause in a bit of surprise. Everything is vastly different this year. Last year had been the first year this particular company had set up a Santa area in a mall so everything was pretty, for lack of a better word, crappy. You remember the short, raggedy green carpet that had been set up for people to line up on. It had definitely seen better days, the edges had long started to fray. The carpet let up to a single chair, that always looked like it was one ass away from collapsing.

The difference today is striking. The green carpet had been replaced, it was still kind of stiff as if this was the first time it was being used. The shitty chair had been replaced by, well many things. The flashy new carpet led to a very large platform with stairs on either side of it. On top sat a very different chair than before. This one looked like no one had ever sat in it, it was very ornate with carvings painted in gold on the top and sides. Directly in front of the chair was a slide. You thought that part was pretty neat, a little bit of an extra reward for having to wait in such long lines. You walk forward, slightly turning your body every now and then to keep from running into people. You greet the twins, Ella and Emma, as you pass, assuming they’re going to be the second group of partners with you this year. They each give you a wave as they stay in place at the bottom of each set of stairs, which means you’ll be at the top. As soon as you reach the top of the platform, you’re met with the sound of jingling bells. You immediately turn your back to the direction of sound, biting back a smile that really wants your face to split in a wide grin. You do your best to seem like you’re busy doing something as the sound of bells continues behind you. It doesn’t take long for the noise to stop, a whiney sound replacing the jingles. You slowly turn around to see the cutest pout you have ever seen. “ Aw come on. You know I hate when you ignore me!” The sentence was drawn out as the man before had let it out in a whine. “I know you do, Jooheon. That’s why I do it.” You laughed as you replied, knowing it would only cause him to pout at you more even though you meant nothing by it. He gives you a playful shove, pout intensifying before his face shifts into mock anger. Your playful session with Jooheon comes to an abrupt halt as a man dressed in a Santa suit walks up from a third set of stairs hidden behind the platform. You give your partner a quick huff of a laugh and shake your head as you make your way to the right side staircase and motion for the first child in line to start climbing the stairs.

You can’t even count how many children you had ushered from the stairs to Santa. Your shift was longer than you remembered and your stomach has been reminding you that you needed food for hours no. It had been a very busy opening day and there just hadn’t been enough time for you to grab something to eat on your almost nonexistent break. You had just enough time to rush to the restroom on the other side of the mall and then rush back. You really can’t wait to get home and take a shower and get some sleep before you have to do it all again the next. Grabbing a broom, you help sweep and clean up the village area, all four of you working together to get it done quickly. Finishing your part of cleaning didn’t take long at all so you put your supplies away and wished everyone a quick goodnight and head to the mall entrance. Just as you push through the doors of the mall, you hear someone calling your name from behind you. You turn to see Jooheon jogging to catch up with you and you chuckle a little as you pause and wait for him. Your chuckle turns into more of a giggle when he stops in front you, hands on his knees. You can tell that he is only slightly out of breath and his posture is just an exaggeration. He jerks his head up quickly, flashing you that gorgeous smile and you will your cheeks not to blush. “Hey you wanna go get some food from the place up the street? I know we didn’t get much of a break so I thought you might be hungry and I’m already going. Wanna keep me company?” You feel your stomach do a little flip and your mind immediately tells your body to shut up and that he’s just being nice. Realizing you’ve been silent for a moment, you nod your head and start to tell him that you’re totally down for some food, but a rumble from your stomach beats you to it. Jooheon laughs and your demanding hunger grumble and nods his head toward the parking lot. “Come on then, I’ll drive.”

This was very new. You had never spent time with Jooheon outside of work. What do you even talk about? You weren’t the kind of person to get nervous easily, but you were starting to get that nervous feeling. The two of you walked to his car in silence, shoulders just barely brushing. You took a step to the side, not wanting to crowd Jooheon too much, but almost immediately you were brushing his shoulder again. Jooheon sped up slightly to make it to his car before you did, grabbing his passenger door just in time for you to step up to the car. He flashed you that boyish smile as he held the door for you and bowed slightly and made a swiping motion toward his car. The action caused you to let out a loud laugh as you sat in the seat. Once he had closed the door, you watched as he jogged around the front of the car and planted himself in the driver’s seat. He gave you another quick smile as he turned the key and buckled his seatbelt, casting you a glance to make sure you had done the same. “Safety first.” You giggled at his words, rolling your eyes slightly even though you appreciated the gesture.

“You good with the chicken place up here?” His eyes never left the road as he spoke, voice calm. Once you gave him an affirmative answer, he nodded his head with a quick ‘cool’ as he switched lanes. The car went silent, but it was in no way an uncomfortable silence. To you, it felt like two people that had lived together for a while, two people enjoying each other’s company while still doing their own thing. You let out a small sigh of content, just enjoying the ride. “Everything ok?” This time Jooheon turned his head in your direction briefly, a look of concern on his face. You gave him a small and a nod, telling him that it wasn’t a bad sigh and he smiled back at you. As he turned into the drive, you realized that though you had passed the restaurant, you had never actually stopped here. A flash of panic shot through you, worrying that there wouldn’t like anything here. You quickly talk yourself down, telling yourself that it’s a chicken place and of course chicken tenders are an option. After your almost panic, you feel the car come to a stop as Jooheon pulls into a parking spot.

“Pick a table, any table.” Jooheon says in his best over the top magician voice. You give him a playful shove, which he returns. His shove is a tad bit harder than you expected and you start to tip backwards. You close your eyes, preparing yourself for a fall, only to feel a pull on your arm. You feel warm breath on your cheeks and you open your eyes to find Jooheon’s face directly in front of yours. You take a moment to admire his lips up close, your breath hitching as you realize that all you had to do was lean slightly and you’d be kissing him. It feels like forever that you two stand in silence before Jooheon finally speaks. “Sorry. I guess I used a little too much force.” His voice is barely above a whisper and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn, glancing up to see that his are tinted pink too. You take a quick step back and quickly place a smile on your face. “Just check your strength next time, Muscles.” You punctuate your sentence with a small huff of a laugh. He quickly follows your laugh with one of his own and a nod as he follows you toward one of the outdoor patio tables.

After ordering your food, there is a little bit of awkward silence between the two of you and you do your best to think of something to talk about to ease the awkwardness. “So, why a mall elf? Is it the costume?” You have a bit of a smirk playing on your lips as you wait for his answer. “I just really like kids. I know some of them can be a pain, but most of them are pretty well behaved and I really like seeing the way their eyes light up when they finally get to Santa. What about you?” That was in no way what you were expecting and there was no way you could answer that question honestly. There was no way you could tell him that the only reason you came back was because of him. You didn’t think about the possibility of him asking you the same question. You really should have thought a little longer. “I just really like Christmas is all.” You mentally scold yourself for such a lame answer. It wasn’t like it was a lie, you really did love Christmas time, it was just a ridiculous answer. You watch as he smirks briefly before giving you a nod. “So what do you do during the rest of the year?” His eyes were focused on yours, almost burning through you. It took you a moment to answer, too focused on his chocolate globes. “Something very similar.” You pause to let out a laugh. “I work in my family’s convenience store. You? What does the cheeriest elf around do on a normal day?” He straightens his back a little and his face turns a bit serious. He’s quiet for a moment, letting his professional aura sink in a little more. “Bakery cashier Jooheon at your service.” His straight face immediately breaks, a giant smile plastered across his face. “A friend of mine owns a bakery and I work for him. He lets me off on the days I work at the mall.” Before you could respond, your food was being sat on the table. You quickly grabbed your chicken tenders, not really realizing how hungry you were until food was right in front of you. You heard a chuckle as you began to dig into your food and you suddenly felt embarrassed for shoveling food in your mouth. Your eating slowed as the two of you continued to make small talk, slowly learning more about each other.

The conversation continued well after the both of you were done eating. Jooheon checked his watch and quirked his eyebrows. “We should probably get you back to your car before it gets too late.” He motioned to sever and told her that you were ready to pay. You watched her walk back into the building quickly coming back at and setting a single ticket on the table. “How much do I owe?” Your focus was on your wallet as you flipped through it to get your cash. “Nope. I got it.” You lifted your head, eyes slightly widening to find Jooheon already handing the server her his card. He turns to face you, smile wide and eyes crinkling slightly. You’re slightly in awe at just how beautiful yet boyish he looks. You get an overwhelming feeling of wanting to pinch his cheeks but wanting to kiss him at the same time. You open your mouth to protest, only to be cut off by the server bringing Jooheon’s card back. He thanks her and she grabs the tray of trash and tells the both of you to have a good night.

The drive back to your car is filled with soft music. The volume isn’t high, straining slightly you do your best to make out the voice. It’s not one you’ve heard before but it somehow sounds familiar. It's a smooth and honeyed sound, every now and then a growling texture making an appearance. The transition from soft vocals to the graveled rapping is seamless, you almost don’t notice the change. It leaves you feeling warm and calm and it’s very easy to get lost in the sound of the voice. You can feel yourself zoning out, trying to focus on the lyrics. You can make out enough to know that it’s a song about wanting to confess to someone and it resonates with you. You can feel how desperately the artist wants the object of his affection to know about his feelings. The song is nearing its end when you finally realize you’re pulling up to your car and you really want to know who the artist is so you can look them up, but you can’t seem to make yourself ask. You both sit silently for a moment before Jooheon’s voice rings out in the air. “Thanks for coming with. See you tomorrow for the ole shift work? You give him a nod. “Thanks for the invite,I had fun.” You reach for the handle, trying not to swing the door too hard. You give him a smile and a small wave as you step out of the car and move to close the door. You hear Jooheon call your name and you pause and lean down a little to look at him. “Get home safe, yeah?” You laugh and agree, telling him to do the same as you close the door.

You’re beyond grateful at the feeling of the hot water that falls from the shower head. Showers have always been your favorite part of the day, even to the extent of taking more than one on occasion. Most of your showers where the run of the mill get clean showers, but sometimes you would take far longer than you needed. You really liked being able to take your time, sitting down in the bottom of the tub and letting the water just run over your body. You could almost feel the weight of the day being purged from your body. Showers were your way of relaxing, and though this one was no different, you didn’t let it drag on. You were more tired than usual, which probably had something to do with the slight mental strain of being nervous about the hangout/date with Jooheon. Was it a date? You wanted to entertain that thought but you couldn’t allow yourself. Jooheon was just being nice since you two hadn’t had lunch, nothing more. Even though your brain spent energy telling yourself that was all it was, your heart still felt a small flip at the possibility of a date.

Feeling a slight chill as you step out of the shower, you rush to grab your favorite of black sweats and plain black shirt that is just a tad too big. You quickly dress yourself and rush to put your work clothes in the dryer, flicking your heat on as you pass the thermostat. Your nightly routine didn’t consist of anything too intensive. You washed your face with a simple face wash, followed by an equally simple moisturizer and a brush of your teeth. Due to the cold, you made sure to dry your hair, not wanting to possibly get sick, which was the final piece of your routine. Your apartment has started to warm up slightly, but you still bury yourself in your bed, dragging the blanket all the way up to your chin.

Your alarm snaps you out of sleep and you already feel your mood dip. The fog of your dreams lifts enough for you to not fully remember what it was about, but your heart is swelling with feelings of Jooeheon, which leads you to believe he played an important part in your mind's nightly escapades. It isn’t the first time you’ve dreamt of the dimpled man, and you can feel that it probably won’t be the last. Your thought drifts to the day you met Jooheon and a smile immediately graces your lips without you even realizing it. You laugh slightly at the memory, feeling so long ago even though it’s only just been a year.

You had been sitting in a bland room waiting for your interview to start, eyes panning the room. It was just a small room with dull gray walls, the paint was slightly peeling and there was no wall art anywhere in the room. The only sign of movement was the man on the other side of the room, bouncing his leg. You could practically see the sweat starting to bead up on his forehead and you felt a little bad for him. This was obviously something he wanted and anyone could see how nervous he was about this interview. You noticed as he glanced at you, leg still bouncing only faster. You quickly react by flashing him a smile and giving him a thumbs up as a lady in slacks calls his name. He hadn’t been behind the white door for long before he came back out, this time with a large smile on his face. You had been struck by how boyish his smile had been, not expecting it. Immediately after you were struck by just how attractive the man was and how his smile seemed to fit him perfectly, even though you had never talked to him. After getting the job, you were shocked that Jooheon had been assigned as your elf partner. The company had wanted every employee to have a partner. The partners would work every shift together, the company felt that it would bring some sort of consistency in the village. As soon as you had arrived, he gave you that dazzling smile and you knew that you were going to be hooked.

You got ready much like you had the day before, mirror mental meltdown included. You hold out hope that today will be a good day, the day before hadn’t been awful despite not getting a lunch. Your hope was very swiftly smashed as you looked at the line already forming. It was twice as long as the day before and from the looks of it, most of the kids were in no way well behaved. Your shift went by in a slow wave of crying kids and impatient mothers. While today you were given a break, Santa really needed to get a way for a few minutes, it felt like there hadn’t been a point. You did your best to maintain your cheery elf persona, and you had done a very good job of it. When it came time to leave, you moved straight toward the door. Staying and cleaning wasn’t really part of your job, but you liked to help out the mall staff, but you just couldn’t bear to be here a minute longer. You gave everyone a quick goodbye and a small wave of your hand.

Your hand is reaching for the door handle when you hear your name being called and you almost groan out loud, the only thing stopping you is the recognition of Jooheon’s voice. You stop and turn to face him, giving him a tired smile. “Hey, think you might wanna get some food again? You know, try to have some fun and get rid of this shitty mood?” You can feel yourself deflate a bit. You would absolutely love to hang out with him again, but you’re drained. You peek up at him and his face has the softest expression on it and you feel your stomach flutter and your mood soften slightly. You realize as you look at him that there is absolutely no way that you can say no to his adorable face. You finally smile a little bigger and give him a small nod. He flashes you a giant smile and grabs your hand and pulls you into the parking lot.

You look at Jooheon in confusion as he makes no move to turn into the chicken place you went to the night before. He lets out an airy chuckle before looking at you and flashing a smile. “I thought we might check out the 24 hour diner down here.” You give him a nod and tell him that you’ve been wanting to try it for a while, just haven’t gotten the chance. He opens the diner door for you and you smile and thank him as a bell rings out from above the door. You hear someone call out a welcome to you and you nod in their direction and mutter a thank you as Jooheon leads you to a booth in the back corner of the diner. The two of you sit and almost immediately an older woman stops at your table with some menus and a question of what you would like to drink.

The table is silent as you both study the menu, deciding what your stomach is in the mood for. You end up choosing a cheeseburger, Jooheon choosing the same. “You know, we’ve never swapped numbers.” Jooheon’s voice is a slightly higher pitch than normal, but you’re certain you would be the only one that would notice something like that. You nod and emit a small laugh when he slides his phone across the table, the new contact screen already showing. You slide him your phone before adding yourself into his contacts. The conversation is more small talk, talking about how awful the shift was and singling out the kids whose behavior made them hard to forget. You can certainly feel the weight and bad vibe of the day slowly melt away throughout the dinner. The waitress comes back once you finish your food, taking your plates and asking if you would like any dessert. You quickly order a small bowl of ice cream, Jooheon deciding that he’s fine without dessert.

Your ice cream doesn’t take long to make it back to the table, and a smile lights up your face as the waitress sets it down for you. Everything is silent as you enjoy your dessert until Jooheon’s voice grabs your attention. “Hey, hold still.” His arm reaches across the table and you feel his finger swipe at the corner of your lip. You can feel your breath hitch and it honestly feels like time has slowed. You watch as his eyes find yours and his arm retracts to his side of the table, his finger making its way to his mouth. You hold your breath as you watch him suck the ice cream off of his finger. You can feel your mouth dry at the action and while you clench your thighs together. Your eyes stay focused on each other for what feels like an eternity, before the waitress interrupts by asking if you needed anything else. Jooheon licks his lips before turning his attention to the older woman, flashing her a smile and asking for the check. It’s silent between you two as you wait to pay. You move to get your wallet, Jooheon only shaking his head when you try to hand him your share.

Jooheon holds the diner door open for you, walking slightly faster than you to open the door of his car. You smile as you make your way to the car door. “Thank you for such a great date I didn’t even know I was having.” Your voice is light and you laugh at your joke and you see Jooheon’s cheeks turn slightly pink. As he moves to shut the door, you glance over his form, breath catching as you see the slight strain of his pants. You take a moment to take a deep breath as you clench your thighs with more force than the last time. Jooheon makes his way around the car, his pants clinging to his thighs in a way that has you clenching around nothing and you almost let out a moan. The car ride back is silent and not the comfortable kind, it’s full of tension and it is taking all of your control to drive back the want to grip his thighs at every stop. After what feels like forever, Jooheon finally pulls up beside your car. You know you should thank him and open the car door, but you can’t seem to make yourself move. You sit in silence for a few more minutes before Jooehon speaks. “Has it really not been obvious that I like you?”

Your head snaps to face him, his expression serious. You stare at him for a moment before you realize that you should probably answer him, but your voice seems to not work so you settle for a shake of your head. He doesn’t say anything and you finally muster up the will to make yourself speak. “I-I really had no idea.” Your voice trails off into a whisper at the end as you struggle to keep eye contact. “After interview day, I had hoped I would see you again and when we found out we were partners, I was freaking out inside. I was excited to get to know you and by the end of last season, I was chin deep in feelings for you. I kicked myself for not getting your number last year and I hoped you would be back this year.” You’re barely breathing as you take in his words. He liked you. Jooheon. Jooheon liked you for as long as you liked him. Your mind was spinning, going back and forth between shock and happiness. It took you a few moments to realize that Jooheon had gone quite and you hadn’t responded. You rushed to let him know that you felt the same, your words coming out in a jumble. “Ireallylikeyoutoolikealot.” You mentally kicked yourself, knowing there was almost no way that he understood that. It’s clear by the way he looks at you, beaming smile, that lets you know that he understood.

There is a period of nothing but staring, neither of you really knowing what to do. Over time, you both start slowly leaning towards each other, not moving at a hasty pace. Your lips finally touch and it almost takes your breath away. It’s very sweet as Jooheon brings his hand to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing your cheek slowly. It quickly escalates from soft and sweet to heated as his tongue swipes your bottom lip in a silent plea for entrance, which you grant without hesitation. Your makeout session takes another turn as Jooheon places his hand on your waist, squeezing slightly. When you two finally break apart, your chests are heaving as you try to catch your breath. It’s silent for another beat before Jooheon asks if you want to come back to his apartment, which you quickly agree to. He gives you another slow kiss before starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot.

You can’t give an accurate estimate at how far away Jooheon’s apartment is. It feels like days since you left the mall parking lot and Jooheon’s hand rubbing your thigh isn’t making it go any faster. His slow movement and the fact that his hand occasionally dips closer to your needy core seems to make it only drag on. The slow and sensual music on the radio making it even worse, though it does remind you to ask Jooheon about the artist. Jooheon finally pulls the car into a parking spot in front of his apartment building, not hesitating to immediately make his way out and around the car to open your door. His hand finds yours immediately and he tugs you along behind him.

As soon as you’re in his apartment and his door is closed, your back is pushed up against it, Jooheon’s lips on yours. His hands find purchase on your waist as yours rest on his abdomen. You can feel the muscle underneath your hands and you let out a moan as you run your fingers over his defined abs. You can feel his body tense and shiver as you move your hands over his stomach. His lips make their way down your jaw and onto your neck, finding your sensitive spot almost immediately. When you let out a gasp, you feel him smirk against your neck as he continues to suckle on your neck and you just know you’ll have a mark the next day. His hands slide down to rest on your ass, squeezing and placing a small smack, causing you to let out another moan. He pulls back, lips pink and pupils blown. You’re trying to catch your breath when he takes your hand again and leads you to his bedroom.

Neither of you bother shutting the bedroom door, making your way straight to his bed. He pulls you around in front of him, kissing you slowly as he leans you back to lay on the bed. When your back meets the bed, he climbs over you making sure to rest most of his weight on his arm while the other hand makes its way to cup your face. His lips slowly make their way down your neck before he leaves a little bite and the junction of your neck and shoulder and his tongue darts out to swipe over the spot. He leans back, resting on his knees as his hands make their way to the hem of your shirt. He looks at you with a quirked eyebrow and you nod, giving him permission. He teases as he slowly removes your shirt, bending down to litter your stomach with kisses. He moves up your body as your shirt moves higher, making sure not to leave a single spot untouched. His hands move to unclasp your bra as soon as the shirt is tossed on the floor. His mouth finds your hardened bud, tongue swirling as his other hand moves to the other breast. You let out a whimper as he begins to roll your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

He brings his mouth back to your lips, placing a quick peck on your lips as his hands make their way to the waistband of your leggings. You hold your breath as his hands move slowly down your body, his eyes fixed on your face. He grips your leggings and slowly pulls them down your body, lips ghosting over the newly exposed skin. After kissing his way back up your legs, making sure to pay special attention to the inside of your thighs, he sits back up and moves to set up against his headboard. You whine at his absence, his teasing and attention to your body having your underwear soaked. “I noticed you looking at my thighs in the car, baby. Why don’t you come up here and have a seat for me.” His voice is dripping with lust and though you didn’t think you could get wetter, you feel your juices running down your thighs. You slowly roll yourself onto your stomach, making sure to stick your ass in the air as you crawl over to his leg. You make sure to maintain eye contact as you straddle his thigh, slowly lowering yourself down. You immediately get a rush of pleasure as soon as your core makes contact with this cloth clad thigh. He lets out a groan, letting you know he can feel how wet you are. He moves his hands to your ass, giving you a slight push causing you to glide across his thigh. You let out a loud moan at the friction, hands immediately coming up to grab your breast. You open your eyes to find Jooheon’s eyes fixated on you, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

You move your hips slowly, dragging out your pleasure. Jooheon watches you with black pupils as he gives you a push every now and then. You can feel your orgasm slowly building and your increase your pace slightly, making no move to hide the moans falling from your mouth. All at once your feel the tightening of your climax speedily increasing and your grip Jooheon’s shoulders as you lose yourself in the feeling of his thigh on your clit. When the band finally snaps, your nails dig into his shoulders and you let out a loud whine. You feel Jooheon tense underneath you as his nails dig into your ass.

He quickly lifts you off of his thigh, placing you softly on the bed beside him.He quickly removes his clothes and you’re struck by just how gorgeous he is. You let your eyes scan his form as he removes his underwear, dick slightly slapping his stomach and you feel your mouth water at the sight. You get rid of your underwear, tossing them somewhere on the floor as you start to crawl toward him. You reach for his cock, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a slow tug. He moans a higher pitched moan and you can feel yourself clench around nothing at the sound. You move to slide your hand again before his hand wraps around yours. “Normally I would spend hours getting each other worked up, but I’ve thought about this for a while. Baby, I need you right now.” You chuckle a little bit as his flustered honesty, moving yourself to lie back down, legs spread for Jooheon to see your dripping pussy. He groans as he reaches to the drawer beside his bed and grabs a condom, ripping into the foil immediately and rolling it on himself. He looks at you with a questioning look and you know he’s giving you a chance to stop this. You response is a hand sliding down your body and dipping your finger into your entrance. You give him a come hither motion and he whines and moves forward and lines himself up with your hole. You bring your finger up, still glistening with your juices and tap his lips lightly. He eagerly opens, taking your finger into his mouth without hesitation and lets out a deep groan of appreciation at your taste.

He thrusts into you without warning, causing you to let out a gasp as you cling to his shoulders. He leans forward to bury his face in your neck, biting a little harder than before. You reach down and dig your nails into his ass, letting him know to move. He leans up from your neck, giving you a deep kiss as he pulls almost completely out of you before thrusting himself back into your core. His thrusts are soft but hit deep and you can’t help the guttural moan you let out as he quickly finds the spot inside of you that has your vision fuzzy. He realizes he’s found your sweet spot and he makes sure to hit it with every thrust. He moves his hand to play with your clit, thrusts speeding up. His fingers seem to work magic as you feel your second climax quickly approaching. Jooheon’s thrusts get sloppy as he increases pressure on your clit and within seconds you're letting go for the second time, quickly followed by a whine from Jooheon as his hips still.

His body slumps on yours for a few moments before he leans up and gives you a soft kiss, pulling his length out of you before removing the latex from himself and tying a knot throwing it in the small can in the bathroom. He returns with a warm washcloth and he gently wipes you down, ridding you of all the dried fluid. He throws on a pair of sweatpants on himself and tugs open a drawer and pulls out a large tee and hands it to you along with placing a kiss on your temple. Out of nowhere the thought of the music from the car pops into her mind. “Oh hey. Who were you listening to in the car?” He turns to you, tips of his ears red. “Oh. Um. That was me. I play around with music in my free time.” It hits you why the voice felt comfortable and you smile wide. “It’s really good. I like it alot.” You let out a giggle as his gives you an embarrassed thanks, cheeks heating up with pink. “Do you maybe wanna stay the night and watch a movie? I can run you to get your car so it’s not in the lot all night.” You give a smile and nod your head. “I do have one condition though.” He looks at you with a confused look. “We are absolutely not watching anything that evolves elves.” He laughs and nods as he crawls into his bed and wrapping his arms around you. “No elves. You got it.”

#santas little helpers #monsta x fluff #monsta x smut #jooheon fluff #jooheon smut #monsta x jooheon #monsta x jooheon fluff #monsta x jooheon smut #jooheon scenarios #jooheon imagines #jooheon oneshot #lee jooehon #lee jooheon fluff #lee jooheon smut #joohoney #joohoney fluff #joohoney smut

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

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wings & the way down - part 1

Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan

The Moreid high school AU! In which there will (eventually) be pining, misunderstandings, identity crises, and general teenage shenanigans.

Word Count: ~1520 this chapter.

Warnings: Awkward boys flirting awkwardly.

A/N: Title from a Ray Bradbury quote: “If we listened to our intellect we'd never have a love affair... You've got to jump off the cliff all the time and build your wings on the way down.”

This is shaping up to be long. Oh boy. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future installments!

Thursday, January 2 - Spencer

“Checkmate.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” Spencer examines the board and frowns before movement catches his eye.

Gideon is pointing out where he went wrong, but Spencer isn’t paying attention any more. Losing to Gideon isn’t a particularly novel or interesting experience, and there’s something — someone — much more interesting walking into the park. Spencer crosses his legs, shifting on the bench to rest his elbows on his knees, and watches.

It’s cold for Vegas, 60ish and breezy, but the guy is wearing short sleeves like this isn’t his usual January. New in town? But Spencer hasn’t seen anyone moving in. Visiting family for the holidays, maybe. He’s got the look of a newcomer: carefully cultivated confidence, studied swagger covering for the unease that always comes with foreign territory.

There are other things, too, things that Spencer tries not to notice: biceps rippling under the short sleeves, long skilled fingers spinning a basketball idly as he walks, a bright white flash of a grin when he sees Spencer staring —

Spencer is staring. Crap.

He looks down at the chessboard much too quickly — there’s no way it comes off as anything other than guilty. He glares daggers at his bishop as Gideon clears his own pieces away.

“Rematch tomorrow?” Spencer offers, trying to keep his eyes on the board. “School doesn’t start until next week.”

“Can’t tomorrow, going up to the cabin. Call you when I get back.”

“Sounds good.”

Spencer sneaks a stealthy glance, only to see the guy grinning in his direction, and he averts his eyes again, blushing furiously.

Gideon barks over his shoulder, “See you soon, Doctor Reid.”

The nickname makes Spencer smile at Gideon’s retreating back, but then he looks down at his lap and remembers he’s sitting criss-cross applesauce, wearing his fraying Converse and his mismatched socks — one covered with yellow dinosaurs, one argyle. He sighs to himself. Gideon treats him like an adult, but most people sure as hell don’t, and Spencer can’t exactly blame them.

“You wanna shoot some hoops?” the stranger calls out, and Spencer doesn’t look up, because he’s obviously talking to someone else, except…“You in the Chucks! Pretty boy!”

That makes Spencer look up fast, because he assumes it’s sarcastic; it’s the sort of stupid thing the jocks at school might yell, right before they ask him if he wears women’s underwear, or something. There’s no trace of malice on the guy’s face, though. His smile is so bright it’s hard to look at.

Something warm and awful curls in Spencer’s stomach.

“I don’t really — I don’t do hoops,” he mutters, averting his eyes again.

The guy takes the seat opposite his, sprawling out, taking up space. Spencer hunches in on himself, poking at the beginnings of a hole on the faded knee of his favorite jeans.

“I could teach you.”

“Given my lack of hand-eye coordination, I really doubt that,” Spencer tells him, which gets a laugh; eyes sparkle, a dimple creases his cheek — he smiles with his whole face.

“I’m Derek. Derek Morgan.”

Spencer raises one hand in an awkward wave. “Spencer. I’m — Reid’s my — Spencer is me. That’s my name.”

Yikes.

“You from around here?” Derek asks, twirling the basketball on his fingertip, showing off casually.

Spencer nods and then blurts out, “You’re not. Morgan — is that like the Morgans on Lake Road?”

“Sure is. That’s my auntie and uncle. I’m staying with them for a bit.”

“That’s roughly zero point three miles from my house,” Spencer tells him, but when Derek raises his eyebrows, he remembers that walking around aimlessly, memorizing the names on every mailbox because you can’t stand being at home, is not a normal childhood pastime. He continues hurriedly: “Where are you from?”

“Chicago.”

That makes sense. He’s cool in the way that Spencer would imagine people from big cities to be. He seems… jaded isn’t the right word for his smile, but experienced, maybe. Sophisticated. Comfortable in his own skin. Sure of himself.

Everything Spencer is not, basically.

Also, Spencer is staring again.

“Do you like it here?” he asks. “It must be… different.”

“That’s an understatement. Toto, we are not on the South Side any more.” A shadow of sadness flickers over Derek’s expression for a moment, like a cloud across the sun, before he smiles again. “It’s good, getting a change of scenery. You know?”

Spencer doesn’t know, because he’s never been farther away than California, but he says, “Yeah.”

He tucks his hair behind his ears and then picks up his castle, turning it over in his hands just for something to do.

“I’ve never actually played chess, but aren’t there supposed to be more pieces?” Derek asks.

“Gideon likes to use his own pieces, I like to use mine,” Spencer tells him. It’s a sensory thing, for him; he likes the feel of the warm ivory, and Gideon prefers his own heavy stone set.

“Gideon?”

“Professor Gideon,” Spencer amends, wondering how to explain that. “I… took a class with him? At UNLV. That’s sort of how we met, but… we play chess.”

That’s the short version, anyway.

When Spencer decided to find a cure for schizophrenia, at the age of fifteen, he started by reading everything the local library had on the subject. When he was done there, he started sneaking into the college library. Gideon was the first person to realize Spencer wasn’t a student, but he didn’t call security; instead he offered to let Spencer audit one of his advanced psychology classes in the evenings. Spencer has taken all his classes by now, and Gideon jokes about him earning his Masters before he finishes high school.

“Want to show me around the neighborhood?” Derek asks, and Spencer blinks at him for a second.

“You were going to play basketball.”

“Sure. But you said you don’t ‘do’ hoops.” Derek gestures at the empty court. “Nobody else to play with. Playing with myself gets boring.” He laughs at his own joke, and then his eyes sparkle, devilish, as he says, “I’d much rather play with you.”

Spencer chokes on nothing, and somehow he makes things even worse by asking shrilly, “Are you flirting with me?”

Derek grimaces. “If I say yes, am I gonna get punched?”

“Like it’d hurt you even if I did.”

“Then yeah,” Derek says sheepishly. “I was flirting with you.”

Spencer stutters for a few incoherent seconds before he recovers from that particular world-ending shock. Then all he can say is, “Oh.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If I was wrong about — if you’re — do you?”

He cannot possibly be asking what Spencer thinks he’s asking.

“Do I — play for that team?” he ventures. Derek shrugs, and Spencer can barely breathe. It feels like he’s paralyzed for a second before he can croak, “That’s not — you’re not wrong.”

“Just to be clear, we’re not talking about basketball any more.” Derek is grinning again. He has a really nice smile, and Spencer needs to stop staring already.

“Yeah. We’re clear,” he manages.

For a second they just smile at each other, and Spencer has this swooping sensation in his stomach like he just missed a step, except the disorienting moment of uncontrollable vertigo feels good.

“Sorry. I’m not used to — this is new to me.” Derek seems almost bashful now, looking down as he starts to toss the basketball from one hand to another. “Being able to admit when I’m… flirting. With a guy, I mean.”

“I’m not used to being flirted with,” Spencer counters. He clears his throat and adds, “I don’t mind it.”

Derek doesn’t move his head, but his eyes flick to Spencer. His smile is hopeful and happy and more than a little shy.

“Anybody ever tell you you look good in pink?”

“Huh?” Spencer frowns down at his sweater, which is… yeah, still definitely blue.

“You’re blushing.”

“Oh.” He presses his palms to his feverish-hot cheeks. “That makes sense.”

This doesn’t happen to Spencer. Flirting doesn’t happen to Spencer, let alone flirting with someone who looks like that. There’s a bubble of reckless exhilaration swelling in his chest, helium-light, threatening to lift him off his feet.

“So, how about it?” Derek asks. “Want to show me around?”

Spencer nods, way too eagerly. “I could do that.”

And that’s when his phone rings.

He knows what it means, before he even looks at the screen, and all that giddy excitement drains away at once.

He pulls out his phone: Mom calling. He doesn’t pick up yet; he doesn’t want to have this conversation within earshot of Derek.

“I have to go,” Spencer says miserably. He sweeps his chess pieces carelessly into his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and gives Derek a helpless shrug. “I just — really need to go. Can we — tomorrow? I’ll be here. Tomorrow. Same time.”

“No worries,” Derek says, with a rueful little half-smile. Spencer turns, starts running, and he almost misses it when Derek says, “See you tomorrow, pretty boy.”

Spencer doesn’t let himself look back, but he smiles.

He flips open his phone on the very last ring and says, “Hey, Mom. I’m on my way.”

Part 2 is here!

#criminal minds fic #spencer reid #derek morgan #Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid #moreid #moreid fic #cm #criminal minds

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years ago

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Baddie (knj)

Summary: Dating an idol when you’re not Korean and also black makes you nervous sometimes. You don’t want him to get hate or have issues with his company. Namjoon has different ideas.

A/n: Commission for a lovely follower I hope you like it bb! Song Namjoon sings is Mood Swings by Pop Smoke

Warnings: not a warning but Namjoon x black reader, unprotected sex (established relationship), oral (f. receiving), girl on top, just mostly sweet domestic sex, fluff

Word Count: 1258

Rating: Explicit

"Shorty a little baddie….she my little boo thing…"

You snort as slap at your boyfriend as you're driving but you're smiling.

Namjoon is leaned toward you, dimples popping as he grins at you.

You're driving him home from the airport and he's looking at you like he always does when you've been separated a while, brown eyes soft and warm.

Namjoon has one hand on your thigh, fingers digging into your thick flesh.

He continues and it isn't as if you haven't heard this damn song a hundred times but some of the lyrics make your skin feel hot, at least in his low baritone. It’s a song that he particularly likes, has taken to calling you “baddie” in a teasing tone, and you always roll your eyes but you can’t help but love it.

You slap at his shoulder as you pull up at home. "You're so stupid, oh my God."

Your insult might mean more if you didn't take hold of his hand the second you get out of the car. Dating an idol is hard for anyone, you suppose, but especially since you aren’t Korean and because you’re black, you’re always afraid to be seen with him, afraid of what people might say. Namjoon, for his part, doesn’t ever seem to care, tells you that he won’t get recognized as easily in your country, anyway, but nevertheless you spend most of your time indoors at your apartment.

Just inside your apartment he lifts you up into his arms, hefting you up onto the island bar in your kitchen.

He's still humming the song and you know he must be exhausted but he gets like this after not sleeping a while, wired, almost, and who are you to complain when it's been months since you've seen him?

You're wearing these yoga shorts that you know he likes, shows off your ass and thighs and Namjoon spreads your legs, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Joon," you whisper, putting a hand in his hair. "You should rest."

He ignores you, continuing to hum low in his throat.

"My lil mama nasty...see the pussy through the panties...she taste like candy.." He sings, grinning wickedly up at you, and hooks his fingers into your shorts and panties, pushing them to the side to lap at your cunt slow and lazy.

"Fuck," you gasp, pushing his face against you and he keeps humming the back beat of the song, vibrating against your clit.

You cry out softly when you cum, surprised that you were able to orgasm so quickly. He plants kisses along your inner thighs until you tug at his hair and hop down from the counter, pulling him up so you can kiss him deeply.

Later when you're both undressed and in bed, instead of sleeping he's kissing along your neck.

"Namjoon, you need to sleep," you whine.

"Not tired," he protests, pouting in that way that makes his dimples pop.

"You're lucky you're cute," you mutter.

"I'm lucky I have you," he says sweetly, and you roll your eyes.

"Corny ass," you snicker, laughing, and he puts his arms around you and rolls you on top of him. You sit up on your knee, smiling down at him.

He looks up at you, the affection in his eyes tinged with lust, reaching between you to circle his cock with his long fingers. He reaches up to cup one of your naked breasts with the other, dragging his thumb across your nipple.

“I’m serious,” he murmurs. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful.” He strokes himself until his dick is standing hard against his belly and then he takes your hips in his hands, rocks you forward to coat himself with your juices.

He gives you a grin. “Pussy on tsunami, I ain’t never felt it dry.”

You’re surprised into a laugh. “You’re so stupid,” you reiterate, and move forward to guide his cock inside you. “That’ll shut you up,” you say smugly as he throws his head back with a groan.

It works, if only for a moment, because he takes two handfuls of your ass and bounces you on his cock, but it’s only a few strokes before he flips you over, pulls one of your legs over his bicep to fuck you harder, deeper.

“Oh, shit!” You cry out. “Namjoon, fuck, fuck,” you babble.

“I like it when you say my name when I’m fucking you,” he says breathlessly. “Who’s fucking you this good, baby?”

Half of you wants to roll your eyes but the other half just chants his name, over and over, because he’s right, after all. You’ve never been with anyone who loved you this good or fucked you this good.

You come again when he keeps dragging his cock against your gspot, slow and deep, and then it’s only a few moments before he pulls out of you, stroking himself to completion on your breasts and leaning down to kiss you, making a mess of both of you.

You put your hair up so that it doesn’t get wet, as much as you love your boyfriend you’ll be damned if you let him mess up your hair after you’d just gotten it done for his homecoming.

There are bags under his eyes and you wonder when the last time he’d slept is, but he’s still humming and kissing you in the shower.

“You’re sleeping as soon as we get back in bed,” you order.

Namjoon smiles, but doesn’t respond, kissing the back of your neck. “So I’m going public,” he says, nonchalantly, as if that isn’t a bomb to drop on you.

You twist around so fast you nearly slip on the bathtub floor. “The fuck you mean you’re going public?”

“About us, of course.”

“Namjoon,” you look at him, mouth open. “You can’t do that.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he says with a little laugh. “I mean, within reason.”

“Namjoon,” you repeat, flabbergasted. “A. You’re an idol, and you know what relationships do to your reputation.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen the things they say about me on Twitter, my fans don’t see me as a little kid anymore.”

“B.,” you continue firmly. “I’m black, and you know how the industry-”

“I don’t give a fuck about the industry,” Namjoon says flippantly. “If they want to boot me out, they can, but they won’t. It isn’t fair that I’ve had to wait three years to tell my fans how much I love you, but I’m done waiting on the world to change. It won’t unless we do things like this.”

“Namjoon...why now? Why not wait until-”

“Until what?”

You don’t have a good answer for that, just rest your forehead on his chest. “People will say the most awful things,” you say softly.

“People don’t matter. My friends matter, and they all love you. My family matters, and they love you. You matter, Y/n, and you’re not my dirty little secret. You’re the love of my life.”

You smack his chest weakly. “Damnit, Namjoon, you know I hate crying!”

You sniffle until he kisses all the tears away.

He finally rests, and you wonder if he was too tired to even know what he was saying the night before. You keep thinking that until a few days later when he rents out a restaurant for the two of you.

“Hey, little baddie,” he asks, looking up at you with a big smile as he kneels between your thighs. “You wanna marry me?”

#kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x woc #namjoon x woc #namjoon imagine #bts imagine #bangtanheadquarters #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub

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aliferous-ly · 5 years ago

Note

I've never really asked for a drabble before... If it's okay with you, could you do 7 "I almost lost you" and 32 "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified" with Logan and Deceit? I just kinda thought that it had the potential to make some angst with a happy ending. Oh and I only found you recently, but I love the writing that I've seen so far. I always love finding amazing writers. (I'm sorry, I'm a total suck up)

im gonna start this with if you’re on mobile, i am So Sorry

i started this and was like “ha im getting a little carried away” and then went “oh no”

and thank u dear!! that’s v sweet of u awe

summary: Declan is a loud and proud aromantic. Then he realizes why he feels weird, and off, and awkward around his best friend, Logan, and his world starts to crumble.

warnings: f word twice, lying, parent being imprisoned, angst, questioning identity, if there’s anything else lmk!!

It starts, Declan thinks, when Logan smiles.

The situation starts out innocuous -- they’re sitting in Logan’s room, Declan tossing a tennis ball up and catching it unsuccessfully, making a right disaster of Logan’s room with all the objects he keeps knocking to the floor. Logan, naturally, continues doing his homework.

And they’re just -- talking.

Declan likes to think his world should shift on a more momentous occasion, maybe with fireworks, fingers brushing against one another dramatically, Jason Mraz playing in the background.

But it’s the smallest thing. Declan throws the tennis ball up in the middle of his sentence -- “You can’t tell me you hate white pines, they have the softest needles” -- and he misses it on the way down.

So he takes a tennis ball to the face and sits up, sputtering, rubbing at his nose, arm reaching out to snatch it before it rolls too far.

Logan chokes out a laugh, eyes squinty and wrinkled at the edges. His laugh fills the room for a few thrilling moments and Declan thinks it’s the most beautiful sound in the world and he can’t stop staring at Logan’s engaging face, in the upturn of his lips and dimples carved in his cheeks.

He’s radiant.

Declan’s heart squeezes, lungs filling with something heavier than air, a foreign feeling washing through his veins. Like rose petals or sunlight. Woodsmoke or freshly fallen snow.

The gears in his chest shift and settle and he feels… right. More right than he’s ever been.

Which is, of course, why fear swiftly follows this gorgeous wash of emotions, because this is unusual and anything unusual is often bad.

Declan forces down the incoming wave of anxiety, schooling his expression into one of smooth disdain.

Just in time, too, because Logan opens his mouth and says, “It was only a matter of time until you paid for your crimes.”

“I’m too pretty to die,” Declan replies, thanking the heavens that while his brain may be steadily turning into mush (have Logan’s eyes always been that striking? Or his shoulders that broad?) his tongue still works.

“Implying Death themself has a type, intriguing,” Logan says. He flashes a look over his computer, the after effects of joy still written on his features. “Bold of you to declare what Death likes.”

Declan tries for a smirk but can feel the way his mouth turns to genuine grin, the traitor. “Aw, Logie, are you saying I’m not everyone’s type?”

“That would be rather ironic, wouldn’t it?” Logan says wryly. He types away at his computer, dutiously finishing an English assignment that Declan is currently ignoring for bigger and better things. “The aromantic everyone pines over.”

That strikes an odd chord in Declan’s chest, like he’s a half-tone off; not quite wrong, but not quite right, either. His expression must change, because Logan pauses in his typing. He blinks at Declan. “Something wrong?”

Of course, that’s when Declan’s brain decides that those words are simply too much, too much, his shoulders tightening, back tensing. It’s like his rib cage is squeezing his vital organs, which seems rather counterintuitive. He hates this unknown, this awkward buzz against his skin, the prickling feeling through his bones.

The resounding crash of everything happening all at once is overwhelming and Declan can’t seem to decide whether to sit as still as humanly possible or bolt.

Or, of course, do what he does best.

Lie.

“I forgot to do something for my mom,” Declan says, barely registering the words before they fall from his lips. He hasn’t lied to Logan in a very, very long time (he knows it’s because they have been best friends for ages, but his mind twists it into something of a foreshadow, even though it’s not, it’s not) and the resurgence of his bad habits leaves a nasty taste in his mouth, but. Desperate times. Desperate measures.

“Oh,” Logan says, disappointed, and Declan longs to explain -- what?

He angrily shoves the emotions deep into his chest. If he can’t explain them, he’s not going to give them the right of control over his actions.

(He ignores the prevalent fact that he has just lied to his best friend in order to escape his presence, but denial, evidently, is not just a river in Egypt).

“Sorry,” Declan spits out, meaning so much more than it seems. He stands, grabs his backpack, shoving papers and folders into it haphazardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Logan calls out hollowly. Declan takes that as his leave and he slips out Logan’s bedroom door, backpack in tow, keys clicking in his pocket.

Something deep inside him aches. But he doesn’t know why.

Frustrated, Declan gets into his car and slams the door shut, fingers white-knuckled against the steering wheel. He takes a breath. He’s fine, he’s fine. He’s probably just sick, or something.

Or something.

Not for the first time, Declan longs for a working aux connection.

Because flicking through radio stations does not help.

Lewis Capaldi croons Someone you loved on one, Sam Smith singing Dancing with a Stranger. He woefully flips through two channels on commercial break, groaning when the last one has Adele, which, really?

He remembers Virgil’s favorite station, and turns up the volume to forty, My Chemical Romance’s Mama screaming from his speakers. He pulls into his driveway with Hallelujah by Panic! at the Disco blowing his ears out when he remembers that Logan once spent hours rambling about Brenden Urie and a conspiracy about curses and he slams his palms on his steering wheel, furious.

Can he not escape Logan for a moment?

As Declan slams the car door shut, throwing his backpack over his shoulders, and freezes at the sight of the stupid Beware, dog sign that Logan had vandelized to read Beware, snake, he realizes that no, he really can’t. Because Logan is his best friend, his favorite person, and his life is irreversibly intertwined with Logan unless he up and leaves with absolutely nothing, starting from scratch. Which would be worse than death.

He trudges up the stairs like a funeral dirge and when his door shuts with a click he leans against it, steadily sliding down until his knees almost touch his chin.

“Fuck,” Declan says out loud, unable to keep the emotion termoil inside like it should be.

His phone buzzes where it fell from his hands, angry against the carpet. Declan sighs. Rubs a hand down his face. And picks up the phone.

There’s one text from Logan that reads, “are you okay? I’m not irritated but you left rather…”

Well. The beginning reads as such. Declan assumes there’s more, but he’s unwilling to open it for the time being.

Then he has three from Virgil, two of which reference an obscure meme video and the third which reads “r u home i wanna play dark souls on ur ps4”.

And there’s a text from Patton asking if he wants normal chocolate chips or mint ones, and a followup that proclaims “never mind i got both! :3c”.

He sends a quick “no” back to Virgil and merely opens the texts from Patton, leaving only Logan’s unopened. I’m not irritated but you left rather… suddenly?

A strange emotion flutters about Declan’s chest and he groans. He doesn’t feel this way about his other friends, not even Virgil, who he’s known for ages and has gone through four too many devastating arguments to not be close with. Nor does he feel like this with Patton, his brother. Those bonds are, he’s certain, platonic--

Declan lurches forwards with a gasp, the realization bowling him over and leaving him breathless. He curls his fingers into the carpet, focusing on the texture instead of the immediate swirl of panic.

He -- does he have a crush on Logan? Him, Declan, the aromantic king, who once boasted the world could never produce a human Declan could fall in love with?

And it doesn’t track with him falling for Logan either because Declan would have loved him months earlier, suddenly falling in love with someone he’s loved platonically… it just doesn’t make sense. Declan can’t wrap his mind around it.

Maybe he’s just reading the emotions wrong. How can he -- what can he do that -- which --

What would Logan do?

An experiment, Declan’s mind supplies helpfully, so, well. Declan pressed his back against the wood of his door and thinks.

Hypothesis: he’s in love with Logan.

In love? A very rational part of his brain yells. You were talking about a crush before!

So Declan thinks, and revises. Hypothesis: he’s feeling romantic attraction to Logan.

Then he takes a few minutes trying to remember the following step in the scientific method and ends up looking it up on his phone, and it’s really long so he’s just going to cut some corners.

Procedure:

Well, Declan can’t think of any way to do this physically without making an entire fool of himself, so he changes the experiment into a thought experiment.

Procedure: Consider emotions of other relationships and compare to feelings for Logan.

Okay. Declan settles. He considers. He tries to imagine holding hands with Virgil and giving him flowers, but he can’t really picture giving Logan flowers either, so if it’s weird for both -- but he wants to hold Logan’s hand, not Virgil’s, and sometimes Patton’s, and Patton is his brother, he knows for sure his emotions are strictly platonic. So if Patton is the control group, the certainty of platonic emotions, Virgil is the one with normal emotions, and Logan has some weird emotions, so if Virgil and Logan’s are merely two different shades of friendship then Declan will know.

Declan closes his eyes and imagines kissing Logan, because that’s what romantic partners do, right? He imagines stepping closer to him until there’s inches of space between them.. Declan thinks about leaning in, brushing lips before pressing in, heat curling in his chest and oh god, oh god Declan’s face is on fire.

His eyes shoot open and he can only imagine how panicked he must look right now. He presses his hand against his chest, taking deep breaths. Then, reluctantly, he thinks about kissing Virgil -- nope, nope, eugh he physically shakes his head, gut rolling uncomfortably.

So that is a big contender for Declan has romantic feelings for Logan.

He sighs and clunks his head against the door. This sucks. Declan hates feelings.

The door downstairs sounds, opening and closing, followed by a resounding, “HEY, CICI, LOVE YOU!”

Dee sighs, a smile flickering across his face. He pushes to his feet and exits his room, wandering downstairs, aloof.

“Hey Pat,” he says, leaning against a wall.

“Ci, I’m making lots of cookies!” Patton declares, beaming at him, and Declan’s heart drops.

His expression must, too, because Patton’s features are suddenly painted in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that,” Declan says, and he feels bad, unexpectedly, for not replying to Patton’s text earlier. “Lots of cookies? With mint and chocolate chips? Enough to feed an army?”

Patton’s arms wilt and Declan reads the tremor in his shoulders, the glisten of his eyes. Patton tries for a smile and misses by a mile.

Declan crosses to where Patton stands in five steps, wrapping his arms around his smaller brother, pressing his cheek against Patton’s head. “What’s wrong?”

Patton takes a shuddering breath, returning the hug. “Nothing, really. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Ah,” Declan says. He tightens his grip on Patton. “Do you want help?”

“No.” Patton presses his face into Declan’s chest. He’s shaking, ever so slightly. “Can you talk with me at the counter, though?”

“Of course,” Declan agrees, mentally side-tabling his emotional turmoil.

“Okay,” Patton says. He’s quiet for a few more moments, then says, “And Steven Universe later?”

“Anything,” Declan says. He makes a face. The word had slipped out unbidden, but Patton doesn’t tease him for it.

“Alright.” Patton pulls away, takes a breath. “I’m about to make the best damn cookies the world has ever seen.”

“Damn straight,” Declan says, grinning. Patton pauses for just one moment more before moving to the kitchen, dropping various ingredients onto the counter and moving smoothly to gather more.

Declan wonders at his influence on Patton’s vulgar mouth, then shrugs. Patton’s a teenager. He can do what he wants.

“Weren’t you hanging out with Logan?” Patton asks conversationally. He’s pulling down bowls and sugar, obviously expecting easy small talk. And normally Logan is easy for Declan to talk about. He talks about him all the time.

So when Declan winces, Patton turns and addresses him with full attention, brows furrowed. “What? What happened?”

“I…” Declan considers for a moment to just lie about it but dismisses the thought. This is Patton. “I think I have a romantic attraction for him.”

Saying it out loud only cements the certainty in Declan’s chest. No, he hasn’t quite completed the experiment, but he just… knows.

The knowledge is both relieves and spikes his anxiety about the whole situation.

“Oh,” Patton says, eyes wide. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Declan says honestly.

“Alright,” Patton says. He turns back around and a wave of affection flows through Declan. “How did Roman do on his audition?”

Declan hums, eternally grateful for Patton’s ability to turn the conversation away. They talk about Roman’s skill as an actor for a few minutes, jumping to Patton’s involvement in VEX robotics (focusing on the robotics instead of the people) and they kill about forty minutes with Patton talking about his baby bot, Pat Jr.

When the clock strikes seven, Declan throws together two grilled cheese sandwiches and they eat in front of Steven Universe and the gems, Declan stretched out along the couch and Patton creating a throne of blankets for himself.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Patton murmurs, eyes never straying from the bursts of pastel on the screen, “but if you do have a romantic attraction to Logan it’s okay. You weren’t wrong in saying you’re aromantic. Because that fits you, you like it. There’s just more strings attached than you originally thought.”

Declan blinks, the smallest smile growing on his face. “Thanks, Pat.”

Patton hugs a pillow, eyes bright. “Love you, Ci.”

Declan pushes his foot against Patton’s blanket pile in response.

“Do you think we have to move?” Patton says, three hours into their movie night.

Declan breathes, slowly inhaling as if it gives him an excuse to not reply. “I didn’t. I don’t want to. But probably.”

“That’s why you haven’t told anyone,” Patton says. He shifts, turning to look at Declan. Declan maintains eye contact with the screen, despite having seen this movie countless times. “And why you told me to keep it under wraps.”

“Yes,” Declan says, because really, he lies to the world, but he doesn’t lie to Patton.

He tries not to lie to Patton.

“But something changed yesterday.” Patton’s not asking questions. Somehow, he just knows, despite being left out of the loop. “And you were going to tell Logan today.”

“Yes,” Declan says. Static thrums through his veins. Aladdin ignores a buzzing genie on screen, swatting him away to benefit his own desires.

“What happened?”

“Mom’s not getting out,” Declan says simply, because that’s it, really. Their mother is not getting out of jail. And with no father, their final hope is their uncle, three states over. Their father’s brother.

Two months away from eighteen, and Declan is forced to concede.

“When?” Patton asks. He’s trembling, but he’s not crying. Declan knows that will come later.

“Because of the legal mixups and leaning on Sasha, two weeks, probably,” Declan says. Sasha is, of course, their next door neighbor, the crazy cat lady of the street who “watches” the boys “all the time”.

“Two weeks,” Patton whispers. There’s a sheen in his eyes. Declan tries not to look but his gaze is like a magnet and Patton stares, stares, stares. “That’s not enough time. That’s not…”

Declan closes his eyes.

He really thought he would win.

He thought he could win.

They only had to last two more months. His deadbeat mom had to last two months and they couldn’t even keep the legal proceedings--

He takes a breath. “Uncle Thomas is nice, at least.”

“I don’t want uncle Thomas,” Patton snaps.

“Well we don’t have a choice, Pat,” Declan bites out, stomach rolling at the words, eyes snapping open.

Patton recoils, hurt flickering behind his eyes, but Declan knows it’s not enough to overpower the fire roaring in Patton’s lungs. “We did, we could have put more savings into mom’s defense, we could have found a place to live before it was our last resort but now we have to tell all our friends that we’re moving hundreds of miles away in two weeks!”

“Mom doesn’t deserve to get out,” Declan spits.

“I don’t CARE.” Patton’s fingers are clenched in fists. He stands. “I don’t care if mom deserves it or not. We deserve to stay.”

“The world doesn’t work like that,” Declan says.

Patton opens his mouth and snaps it shut, obviously restraining himself. A thousand emotions swim behind his eyes. Declan hates every single moment but he doesn’t say a word.

He leaves.

He leaves Declan sitting alone on the couch, watching Patton’s favorite movie. A door slams shut and Declan exhales heavily. They don’t get into fights, it’s just not -- Patton’s normally too upbeat to bother, Patton hates being angry, Declan normally doesn’t -- there’s nothing to get angry about, not in the grand scheme of things. They share easily, they have chaotic conversations, they…

They’re fighting.

Declan buries his head in his hands. He was too hopeful, too caught up on the possibility of the future to notice the sinkhole of reality.

He really thought -- things would work out, Patton has his lucky charm of a personality and Declan works, he works hard, so things should -- Declan’s a senior in high school, halfway through the first semester, he should be worried about grades and school dances and friends and crushes and --

Logan.

Declan curls, releasing something like a sob or maybe a dry heave. Whether or not he’s in love with Logan (most signs point to yes but there’s no way Declan’s addressing that) he still loves Logan, he loves being with him and talking to him and ordering his ice cream before Logan gets there to see the surprised and fond expression cross his face.

Two weeks?

To say goodbye to his best friend?

Before moving, before picking up his entire life and his family (just -- Patton. Just Patton) and going somewhere Else?

Declan doesn’t feel like an adult.

He doesn’t want to be an adult, either.

Even if the world is asking him to be one.

“You’re acting strange,” Logan observes.

Declan shrugs. “I’m always strange.” He takes advantage of shoving fries in his face to avoid expounding.

Logan sighs and puts down his burger. “Declan. Something’s going on.”

Several somethings are going on, actually, but thanks. Declan shrugs again. “Haven’t been getting much sleep.” Which is a true statement. He’s written about ten different ways to tell Logan he’s leaving, nine of which are ripped up in the trash, one of which Declan just burned because he doesn’t want even scraps of that disaster to exist.

Five days to go and Declan still hasn’t told him. Five days. They don’t have many classes together, otherwise Logan would have pieced together the weird treatment from the teachers. Declan wonders if just disappearing into the void is an alright way to go, but a little Patton in his head chastises him for even considering it.

Then again, at this rate…

“Hm,” Logan says. He has a thoughtful look on his face that’s absolutely devastating to Declan’s heart and general health and coherence of thought, let alone considering what’s about to come out of his mouth. “Is there a reason?”

Declan considers, eyes narrowing as he stares at nothing. “I neglect to answer that question.”

“So yes,” Logan says. The words fall from his lips with crushing sorrow. He takes a breath. “Why aren’t you telling me?”

“Telling you what?” Declan says, internally wincing at the hurt flickering through Logan’s eyes.

“Okay,” Logan says instead. He turns back to his food.

They eat the rest of the meal in silence.

Declan watches absentmindedly as Logan attempts to make a tower out of pens and pencils. With the addition of Roman’s copious amounts of colored pens, the tower is quite impressive.

Two days.

(Two Days).

Declan’s all packed. Sorta. Not really. He’s going to skip some classes in the future and pack all at once, throwing everything into the boxes (the empty boxes lining his room), not caring if anything breaks.

He…

He hasn’t told Logan yet.

Or anyone, really, but Logan’s the one that -- the one that matters the most.

Logan did, however, ask him if he was okay three times before leaving him be, because Logan knows that Declan becomes testy if asked the same question consistently.

So basically, as far as Declan can figure, Declan’s a tool. Logan is trying, and Declan is giving him jack shit to work with.

Patton has told all his friends, which means it’s only a matter of time before Logan finds out, right? Patton’s a sophomore, they’re seniors, and the school is large, but it’s also not as big as it seems.

Roman, sitting next to him, hums under his breath as he types. He’s editing his college essay, which Declan would be doing if he had a college essay to edit and also cared enough. The atmosphere is strikingly calm, which leads to an anxious buzzing under Declan’s skin.

Tell him. Just tell him. Just open your mouth and tell him. You’re in a library, he can’t get loud and yell.

Declan wonders if yelling would be better, actually, than wide eyed stares and wounded expressions.

He’s contemplating the merits of writing a letter (absolutely not, he doesn’t know why he’s even considering it) when he spots Patton out of the corner of his eye.

Patton in and of himself does not scare Declan.

The fact that he’s bee-lining for Declan and his friends does make him a bit nervous, though.

“Cici,” Patton hisses. The cutesy play on Declan’s middle name sounds odd in such a harsh tone of voice. He glances at Logan before staring at Declan.

Declan’s starkly aware of Roman and Logan’s attention when he says, “yeah?”

“You told them?” Patton says, and Declan--

Well.

A combination of fear and fury and regret zip through his veins at warp speed.

But Declan’s well trained in the art of deception.

He schools his expression into one of cool indifference. “That I’m taking you for ice cream? Nah. I didn’t think they’d care. You wanna go right now?”

Roman huffs a laugh, turning his attention back to his computer. Logan doesn’t look away, though, hand resting on a bright yellow flair pen.

Patton’s brow furrows. “I mean the--”

“Man, if you were that impatient you could’ve texted me,” Declan interrupts with a long, drawn-out sigh. He stands, swinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Get me some ice cream next time,” Roman says, grinning. His gaze doesn’t leave his screen. “Bye, loser.”

“Bye,” Logan echoes.

Something registers in Declan’s brain-dead skull that Logan sounds lifeless because his best friend has been distant (Declan. Declan is Logan’s best friend).

Declan pauses, sighs. Patton looks outraged and about two seconds from outing Declan.

“I’m sorry,” Declan says. Logan looks up at him. “It’s not your fault. Just… I’m going through some things. You deserve to know. I shouldn’t shadow you without any info.”

Patton looks even angrier, if possible, but then Logan’s talking and Patton hates interrupting people.

“Okay,” Logan says, soft as ever. “I’ll wait for you.”

And if that doesn’t make Declan feel like the nastiest motherfucker.

“Let’s go,” Declan says, pulling Patton along before Patton lets loose.

He opens his mouth, but Declan beats him to it, whispering, “Shh, we’re in a library.”

“I cannot fucking believe you,” Patton hisses instead.

“Language.”

“You haven’t told them?” Patton exclaims. He yanks his wrist from Declan’s grip but continues following him, arms gesturing wildly. “You’re the worst.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Declan mutters.

“You better get me ice cream now,” Patton says, crossing his arms. “After making me watch that.”

“That’s fair,” Declan concedes, and then realizes he’s going to have to spent the next thirty minutes listening to Patton chastise him and --

Honestly, he deserves it, but he doesn’t want it, but before he can say anything, Patton says, “don’t even think about escaping this.”

So he’s stuck listening to Patton chastise him for the next thirty minutes until their next class starts.

But he gets a turtle sundae out of it, so it’s like, at least 20% a win.

“CICI,” Patton screams from the living room.

Declan shoots to his feet, tripping and slamming his knee into the doorframe, scrambling to reach Patton as swiftly as possible. He appears at the edge of the living room, hand pressed against the wall, chest heaving, eyes blown wide. “What? What is it?”

He assesses Patton for damage, but Patton’s standing with his phone clutched between his fingers, shaking ever so slightly but appearing physically fine. He’s staring at Declan, lip trembling.

“Patton?” Declan says.

Patton opens his mouth, tears dripping down his cheeks. He sniffs, making an angry noise in the back of his throat as he wipes at his face. “I shouldn’t tell you! I should let you suffer because you’re mean.”

“Patton,” Declan says, approaching his brother like one might a wild animal.

Patton shakes his head and Declan stops.

“I’m upset!” Patton says. Then he lets out a laugh, choked. “But I’m so relieved.”

Declan doesn’t say anything.

Patton sniffles a few more times, then peeks at Declan through his fingers. Declan tries for a smile, sheepish. Patton smiles back, watery and soft. His shoulders shake as he laughs softly, his phone pressed against his cheek. “I was so scared.”

“Me too,” Declan says.

“I’m sorry,” Patton says, the anger draining from his face and leaving a wide-eyed pile of nerves. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not mean. You’re just scared.”

“It’s okay,” Declan says. His arms hand limply by his sides. He wants to do something with them, to cross his arms or put them in his hoodie pockets or something, but he also wants to leave them available for when Patton wants a hug, so he stands awkwardly instead. “I forgive you.”

“I’ve been calling Uncle Thomas,” Patton says.

Declan’s heart does something funny in his chest.

Patton pulls his hands away from his face, rubbing his cheeks clean, staring at his phone for a few moments before his hand drops, dangling at his side. “He’s -- he said he’s coming here. His job can be done online and the stuff he can’t do online he’ll fly back for which won’t be often, he said it’s important to him that we -- have a support system throughout highschool, and he wants us to finish here before doing anything else.”

The information barely filters through Declan’s mind because when Patton exhales another sob Declan steps forward and envelops him in his arms on instinct. Patton’s legs go weak. Declan sinks to the ground, Patton pressing his face into Declan’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Patton mumbles. “I don’t know why I’m crying. This is good. This is good.”

“Sometimes emotions have a funny way of showing,” Declan says. He runs his fingers through Patton’s hair, untangling the curls. “You’ve been stressed. It’s okay.”

“Why aren’t you crying?” Patton says. He taps his palm against Declan’s chest, reminiscent of a smack without any of the power. “It’s not fair.”

Declan laughs, sort of. “I might later. I don’t know. Emotions are weird.”

“You never told your friends you were moving,” Patton says. “Will they ever find out?”

“Probably,” Declan says. He squeezes Patton. “I know you told your friends. It’s better your way. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Mm.”

Declan can feel the rise and fall of Patton’s chest. It slows as Patton calms down. “We don’t have to move,” Patton murmurs.

“We don’t have to move,” Declan agrees, and Patton presses even closer.

Declan doesn’t know how he finds his way to the beach but at one point he’s baking Patton cookies and the next he’s sitting on a slab of concrete overlooking the pitch dark waves. He knows Patton is sleeping, or is at least pretending to sleep. He vaguely remembers writing a note in case Patton looks for him.

It’s been three days since Patton discovered Uncle Thomas’s moving plans. Discovered? Convinced? Declan isn’t sure.

And he doesn’t really know how to react. He’s been moving on autopilot, making dinner, doing homework, putting in minimal effort into his friendships so they don’t abandon him on the side of the road --

No. Declan shakes his head. Putting minimal effort into his friendships because his friends don’t deserve to be cut off without a word.

Nothing feels right.

(Something is off).

He hears footsteps and before he can whip around, before fear has the chance to truly take over his body, he hears, “this seat taken?”

“No,” Declan says, and Logan sits next to him on the concrete. They’re quiet for a few moments, watching the reflection of the moon, tasting salt on their tongues.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Logan says finally.

Declan closes his eyes, breathes. His emotions are all tangled up in his chest and he doesn’t want to tap into it for fear that if he lets out a little he’ll let out everything.

But Logan deserves to know.

(He deserves someone better.)

“My mom lost,” Declan says, which sounds nicer than it did in his head. “She’s unfit to care for us, anyway, but now she’s officially calling prison her new home.”

Logan’s quiet. Declan listens to his breathing. He spies Logan’s hand against the concrete and longs to close the distance and entangle their fingers, just for a modicum of physical comfort. The slightest hint of warmth permeates the air around Logan and Declan wants to lean closer, to press their arms together.

“My Uncle, on my dad’s side, is taking care of us. He… wasn’t originally going to move here, but Patton talked to him and he decided moving here is the best course of action.” Declan shifts. He doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know how to explain.

Logan stops breathing.

“I almost lost you,” he says, and it’s barely a whisper.

Declan glances at him and can barely comprehend the amount of horror shining in Logan’s eyes. Logan’s staring at him, expression open and terrified. “I almost…” He exhales, shaking. Declan watches him so closely he can see the sticking of his chest as he breathes, the tremor of his shoulders.

Declan’s heart stutters and he wants to tear his gaze away but he owes, he owes Logan this. Even though the only thing he wants to do is run away, to preserve himself. “I -- I never told you,” Declan says, more scared than he has been in a long time. He opens his mouth and stops, shrinking away. He looks over Logan’s shoulder, unable to maintain eye contact. “We were supposed to leave two days ago. I was going to tell you and then…”

Then I found out that I’m in love with you, and it freaked me out so much I closed myself off.

Logan’s truly shaking, and Declan doesn’t know what to do. You caused this. This is your fault.

“Ugh! I’m sorry,” Declan exclaims. He can’t stand this, these tentative moments, fragile as glass. He wants to take a hammer to the whole affair. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not much but I was scared, and it’s not a valid excuse, but I was terrified, Logan, I couldn’t leave you! You mean too much to me!”

“You mean a lot to me too,” Logan says, but Declan’s on a roll, now, there’s no stopping the hurricane in his heart.

He moves his gaze to the waves, finding solace and energy in the constancy. “I was going to tell you when we were hanging out a few weeks ago in your room, and then I freaked out because -- and then I left, and haven’t been able to figure out how to word it since, and Patton’s better than I am, he told his friends almost immediately, imagine, having worse emotional competency than a fifteen year old--”

“Roman found out,” Logan says, grinding Declan’s tangent to a halt. “He mentioned something to me but I needed to hear it from you.”

Declan stares at him.

“I asked Patton if you were at home,” Logan explains. Declan can barely tell in the shadows, but Logan’s face seems to darken. “When he said no, I knew there was one other place you would go. Probably.”

Declan worries his lip. He’s that predictable?

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Logan asks, quiet.

“Because…” Liquid anxiety slogs through his veins. His voice drops, quiet, quieter than the sound of waves. “Because I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”

For a second all he can hear is the crash of the sea and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He doesn’t know why the moon isn’t falling from the sky, why the stars haven’t combusted, because his world feels like it’s falling apart at the seams.

“I discovered that,” Declan continues, the words slipping between his lips before his mind has any say in the matter, “and didn’t know what to do, and then I needed to tell you I was leaving, and I love you, and I couldn’t. Because I’m a coward.”

Another beat. Declan takes a long breath. “I still love you. And I’m no longer leaving.”

“I suppose… now would be a bad time to bring up demiromanticism?” Logan tries.

“It would be a terrible time, but thank you,” Declan says, and he can’t help the small puff of laughter that escapes.

“I love you too,” Logan says, then, and Declan can’t breathe.

He turns to Logan without thinking, searching his sapphire blue eyes for deception even though Logan has never, ever lied to him. He can’t hope, he can’t dare to hope, the world would never give him two miracles. “Don’t trick me.”

“I’m in love with you,” Logan clarifies, nervous. His hands are wringing together and he’s biting his lip.

Declan reaches out, fingers trembling, to brush against Logan’s cheek. “You…”

“I’ve been in love with you,” Logan says. He’s looking down, away from Declan’s gaze, but he leans into his touch. “For awhile. I never wanted to bring it up because… you were so adamant about being separate from romance…”

“I thought I was,” Declan says honestly. “Which is why this is a real fucking trip, let me tell you.”

Logan laughs, and some of the tension in the air dissolves. “I can imagine.”

“God, I love you,” Declan says. He brushes his thumb underneath Logan’s eye.

“I love you too,” Logan says, eyes wide and sparkling, then he moves forward and cradles Declan’s head in his hands and Declan short circuits because he’s right there he’s RIGHT THERE and he’s touching him he loves him he loves him--

“You’re gorgeous,” Logan says, and Declan just stares at him dumbly because his mouth stops working. His heart is barely going, the only reason he’s not dead is because his body has some sort of instinctive survival instinct, or something.

Emotion clog his throat and Declan doesn’t know how he’s not sobbing already so he’s unsurprised when the smallest tear slips out of his eye.

“Oh,” Logan says, wiping the tear away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s -- it’s not -- it’s not you,” Declan chokes out. “God. This is so embarrassing.”

“I don’t care,” Logan says. He leans closer, pressing their foreheads together and staring into Declan’s eyes. “It’s okay to cry.”

Declan smiles thinly, blinking away tears. “I don’t deserve you.”

Logan stares at him, brows furrowing. “What?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Declan says. His trembling hands hold Logan’s jaw. “And you’re so smart and passionate, and you have the most wicked sense of humor, and you’re my best friend.”

“No,” Logan shakes his head. “I mean, I am your best friend, but there’s no deserve in a relationship. We’re just people. People make mistakes. I make mistakes. Please don’t sell yourself short.”

Declan wants to say that only proves how good Logan truly is, but he settles for a simple, “Okay.”

Logan brushes hair out of Declan’s eyes, then sighs, dropping his head to Declan’s shoulder. Declan’s hands slide down to Logan’s upper back.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Declan says.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Logan replies, muffled. He pulls away for a split second, eyes blurry and a crease already showing from his glasses pressing into his skin. “But if you withhold life-altering information like that from me again there will be issues.”

“I won’t,” Declan says. He swallows. He hates promises. He hates them, because he never feels like he can maintain them. “I’ll… I’ll try my hardest.”

Logan searches his gaze, nods, and then presses fully into Declan.

“Woah, okay.” Declan shifts as Logan clings to him like a koala bear. Logan’s basically in his lap and Declan, well. Declan has no complaints.

“I can do this as much as I want because we’re in love with each other,” Logan mutters, and wow, if that doesn’t send a thousand vibrations across his skin. In love with each other.

Declan grins. He likes the sound of that.

“You know,” Logan says conversationally. His fingers trail up to press against Declan’s face, outlining his lips. “I love it when you smile.”

Declan hums, his smile broadening. Me too, Logan.

Me too.

#im also posting this on ao3 bc this is a MONSTER #loceit #logan sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #brotherly moceit #god the dynamics..... so good #roman sanders #virgil sanders #well virgils mentioned hes not actually in it OOPS sorry virge love u #does the ending make sense?? i hope so #deceit: i also love it when i smile thank u logan #<-- incorrect interpretation yet i love it #did someone order some uhhhhh fluff #willowaudreykeyes

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

Note

Hello there, I see you're back on blue-line drabbles! I love them, I am obsessed with this universe. I don't know if I ever came back to say hi after I read all your big fics, but somehow I liked each even better than the last! I don't know how that's possible! But anyway, I think one of the best signs of a good writer/good story is when you're not ready to leave the world once you've finished, and Blue Line is one of the few fanfics I've read where even well after I've finished it, (cont)

(cont) I want to keep living in it and I end up writing my own fic of it in my head (strange, I know). Anyway, for whatever reason, I got really invested in Roland and Lizzie's relationship. Like, how did they end up dating after knowing each other for literally Lizzie's entire life? How did the adults react? Do you have any Lizzie/Roland stories up your sleeve? They would not go unread :)

————

Hello, yes, listen, this ask has lived rent free™ in my head since I first got it and I cannot properly convey how absolutely, goddamn wonderful it is. I am a broken record of outdated references , but it continues and will always amaze me that people are not only interested in Blue Line (more than three years!!! after I originally started posting) but are also interested in other characters in the story who are, for all intents and purposes, original characters at this point. Like the overall size my heart becomes when reading something like that could potentially cause a serious medical condition.

But, like, in a nice way.

So thank you, thank you, thank you. It genuinely warms the cockles of my entire soul. And, like, if you wanna share those fic ideas of the fic, you’ll never hear me say no. Just like I will never turn down the opportunity to write more stuff. Which is what’s under the cut. This stuff includes:

Roland and Lizzie’s first kiss, what I hope is some legitimate banter, more kissing, obvious flirting, and Roland being something of a sap.

Also, uh, it’s entirely possible that I have also already written: Roland and Lizzie’s first “I love you,” their wedding and some other stuff where their kid is involved. Seriously, guys, I am always down to write other relationships in this ‘verse.

————

It was, she figured, something almost passably close to, sort of resembling, definitely inching somewhere nearer to—

Assured.

Unavoidable.

Inexorable

Inevitable.

That was a bad word. That last word. The third one was pretty impressive, honestly. Vocabulary, wise. She’d have to remember that one later. The last one, though. Made teeth Lizzie wasn’t even aware she possessed ache as she ground them together, a pronounced tension in her jaw that was likely affecting her shoulders as well. That word. An awful word. Boasted less-than-positive connotations, letters practically dripping with lack of self-control and overtly aggressive infatuation, but if the world expected her not to be a little in love with Roland Locksley by the time she turned fourteen and noticed that slight indentation in his right cheek every time he smiled, well, then the world had another thing coming.

Dimple, that was the appropriate description. Another word. More words. Too many words. All of them bouncing off the slope of her skull and scratching at the back of her brain, nearly distracting her from what should have been the very pleasant buzz lingering beneath whatever biological thing made up her top and bottom lips.

Which were parted in an emotion very similar to overwhelming surprise.

That was stupid.

The whole thing was stupid. God, maybe she was stupid. No, that wasn’t true. She’d made Dean’s List last semester. Stupid was—

A stupid word, really. Despite the blush rising in her cheeks and the wide eyes practically boring into her soul, bated breath that didn’t make any noise because that was what bated entailed, and no one else glanced in their direction. Not once. No one else noticed.

That the whole world had flipped upside down.

Or right-side-up, maybe. Depending on how the next five minutes or so went.

Because the last two minutes and twelve seconds, give or take, had seen Roland Locksley tilt his head and let his eyes flutter closed before his mouth found hers for the very first time — at midnight for God’s sake. On New Year’s Eve. Or New Year’s Day, she supposed. His parents were standing on the other side of the room.

Suggesting that Lizzie had ever been just a little in love with Roland was a rather monumental lie.

As far as those things went.

“So, uh—” she started, only to find blood in her mouth. From her teeth. Wayward and unpredictable, as they were. Biting down on the side of her tongue and Lizzie hated going to the dentist. Doing irreparable damage to her teeth on what was now legitimately New Year’s Day, in the middle of an annual party, was not on her schedule.

Metaphorical as it might have been.

She liked schedules. Had plans. Focus, even. People always said that about her — how focused she was, liked to throw around the word drive with startling regularity, as if they were amazed she wasn’t simply willing to rest on her laurels or the pair of last names she proudly toted around with her. As if Lizzie expected doors to swing open on a glance.

Rather than consistently preparing herself to knock them down.

She liked the challenge of it all. Appreciated the way disbelief always spiked something in her blood, and that was likely equal parts genetic predisposition and a product of her childhood, but right now, Lizzie was simply prepared to fight for the schedule she’d never allowed herself to mention to anyone else before and it wasn’t like they weren’t friends.

Talked outside the group chat, even.

That meant something. Definitely meant something. Had to mean something. Her lips felt like they’d been doused in liquid nitrogen.

She didn’t know all the scientific properties of liquid nitrogen, but it always made that rather impressive cloud of steam-type stuff on cooking shows. So, it seemed very likely that it did something similar to cause whatever was happening in the region directly surrounding her mouth. Buzzing and tingling, and whatnot.

When had Roland last blinked? Lizzie couldn’t remember. That would have been impressive in any other situation. Right now, it was sort, kind of, totally— Pissing her off.

Color dotted his cheeks, no sign of the goddamn dimple because he wasn’t smiling, presumably couldn’t do that when it was clear he was so intent on pulling his lips into his mouth, and that felt a little insulting. Her tongue had just been in that mouth.

Lizzie was fairly confident in the abilities of her tongue, so she wasn’t all that pleased to be replaced by a pair of lips that could have been doing much better work against the side of her neck.

“If you sit here right now and tell me that you are,” Lizzie lifted a finger, “one, sorry,” another finger, “two, anything even remotely resembling regretful,” another finger, wiggling close enough to Roland’s nose to make him just a bit cross-eyed, “or, three, too old for me, I will throw my heel at that bruise I know exists on the back of your left calf.”

His lips twitched.

He really had impossible eyelashes. Seemingly made so he could glance up from underneath them, to meet Lizzie’s steely expression with what she refused to believe could be cautious hope. Passable optimism, maybe. She’d have to look up what liquid nitrogen did, later.

“I’m standing.” “I hate you.”

“You wanna go in order, or how do you want to work this?” “Where else are you bruised?” Roland laughed softly, a shift of his shoulders and tiny burst of air between barely parted lips. Feeling that tiny burst meant they were standing very close to each other. How they were standing remained another mystery.

One of those great ones, Lizzie figured. The kind referenced when people talked about the sweeping potential of life and love and— Ah, fuck.

“Please don’t threaten to attack me anywhere else,” he muttered, before quickly adding, “you gotta know this was not my end game, Liza.” Narrowing her eyes did nothing to temper the…tempest. Swirling in her gut. Threatening the back of her throat. Eating away at vocal cords and vocal boxes and the structural integrity of her entire goddamn larynx. Possibly her tongue, too, just to be especially efficient.

“Really? Might’a been mine, actually.”

She’d always liked his eyes.

How they could widen, and it wasn’t like...a normal brown. Nothing about the way he looked was ever dull. Drifted toward regularly excited, and the sparkles were probably a figment of her over-active teenage imagination, but Lizzie liked to think sometimes the sparkle came from her. Because of her, even. When she’d call because he always wanted to hear about her latest lecture and he’d call because sometimes Western swings were exhausting and loneliness-inducing and—

She knew.

He knew.

They knew each other.

Grand scheme, the sparkle-prone eyes still weren’t particularly close to the dimple. On the list of things Lizzie liked. What left butterflies fluttering in her stomach and her heart hammering against her chest. Sparkle was probably a solid fourth. Behind the precise way his curls fell toward his eyebrows when he didn’t have time to get his hair cut. Which rarely happened during the season. Right now, it was happening right now. Well-defined strands that Lizzie knew felt even smoother than she’d ever theorized between her fingers, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with that information.

Obsess over it, probably.

For at least the next week, or so.

Still. Eyes. Eyelashes. Too long and too bright, and that was the wrong description order and she was starting to teeter. On the edge of a rather dramatic free-fall. Into feelings and possibility, and this was way too dramatic. For both of them.

“Don’t do that,” she mumbled, a scrunch of her nose that apparently demanded his thumb. Brushing against the bridge, and there wasn’t any caution there. No obvious fear or concern. For the way it left Lizzie’s lungs pinched, and there must have been a limit.

To everything her internal organs could cope with in a limited span of time.

“What was the last one on the list?” She swallowed. “Too old.” “Yuh-huh.” “Pretty flimsy as far as excuses go. You realize I’m not asking you to marry me right now, right?” He choked. On what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Only that it made her stomach heave and her teeth dig into her lower lip, and that was— “Because I know I said, end game,” Lizzie continued, giving in to the need to fill empty space with the sound of her own voice, “but that sounds like several pop culture references all at once, and you know how much I—”

“Hate to come across as disingenuous.” “Mattie’s the pop culture reference machine, anyway.” “Please don’t talk about Matt when I keep thinking about how much I want to kiss you again.” Her eyes, that time. Widened. Bugged. Did something unnatural. “Yeah?” “You’re kidding me, right?” “You’re not an old man.” Rolling his eyes, Roland’s tongue dragged across the front of his teeth. To torture her, apparently. “I was in college when you were a freshman in high school.” “Yuh-huh.” “Liza.” “Nah, nah,” Lizzie shook her head. Crossed her arms. Tried to stand up to her full height, but even the heels didn’t do much to add to the overall intimidation factor. Roland was doing an awful job of fighting off his smile. “Pulling out ancient nicknames is not—” “—It’s not a nickname; it’s literally letters in your name.” “Nick,” she leaned forward, “name. All personal-like.”

Making mistakes was not something she enjoyed very much. It was that Jones competitive streak. Plus, the Vankald stubborn streak. Created a monster of determination, who knew what she wanted, and feeling Roland’s fingers graze her cheek as a strand of hair hung limply in the minimal space between them was the result of Lizzie’s mistaken movement.

Even as much as she might have wanted it.

Goosebumps prickled her arms. Stole whatever oxygen she’d managed to get in the last forty-six seconds, or so. Her eyes fluttered. Head tilted. Towards the touch and the warmth, and for someone who spent so much time on the ice, he really was impossibly warm.

“This is your fault.”

He didn’t move his fingers. Cupped her cheek, instead. “You were doing that eyebrow thing.” “Expand on that for me.” “Lifting ‘em. Happens sometimes. When you’re listening intently. Like you’re a little amazed by new information. They’re these stupid little arches on your face. Drives me nuts.” “The compliment was in there somewhere, I’m sure of it.” “I am so much older than you, Liza.” “Shouldn’t’a played out a bunch of teenage daydreams at once, then.” She was legitimately worried about the state of his tongue. Barely biting back her laugh, Lizzie let her eyes lift. To find Roland gaping at her, drooped shoulders and puppy-dog eyes. And that goddamn dimple. “C’mon, this isn’t...do you think I haven’t made out with people before?” “Wouldn’t classify what we just did as a makeout.” “No?” His eyes darkened. Shivering was probably not a good move, right? Right. Definitely. She wasn’t shivering. It was just...January. And inside. With dozens of people around them. “I would not, no,” Roland said, and the drop in overall volume was some sort of trick. Or, something.

“How many people do you think you’ve made out with? Ballpark it for me.” “No.” “Is the issue a lack of appropriate numbers to tally that mark, or—” She bit her tongue, again. At the flash of amused frustration sweeping his face and polluting the molecules of whatever air was hovering between them. Permeating was a better word. Lizzie really needed to work on all of that. Words. Being slightly less jealous of potential make outs that didn’t have anything to do with her and definitely happened because there had to be other people out there in the world who simply could not cope with the existence of that dimple.

“How many people have you made out with, then?” “Scores,” Lizzie snarled, only to get immediately scoffed at. “I’m really, incredibly popular.” “Oh, I’ve got no doubt.” “Boatloads of guys. Lining up to,” she pointed an imperious finger at her mouth, “make out with this.” “Your well-defined chin?” “I’m going to take my shoe off.” “Draw attention with a move like that.” Whatever fight she had didn’t immediately die. It just, sort of, fell. At her feet, threatening all the bones there and there were too many. All of them far too fragile. For whatever metaphor she was running with at the moment. “And we’re not trying to do that, huh? Draw attention.” “Shouldn’t you be out sowing wild oats?” “Really know how to charm a girl,” she grumbled, and that got her a smile. No scoff. Not even the hint of a smile. The whiplash was hurting her neck. “Trust me, the oats have appropriately sowed. If I was ever particularly inclined to farm work.” “I’m starting to be vaguely embarrassed by all of this.” “Good.” Wasn’t quite a scoff. Was more like a half-hearted laugh, and a tinge of desire and that was better than the other emotions, but the decreasing level of Roland’s eyebrows gave her pause. “What about the status of your oats?”

“Well sowed, rookie season,” Roland said.

“You’re going to change the name on your jersey.” “Not sure that particular fact has a lot to do with anything else. Seven years, Liza.” “I’m perfectly capable of doing math, you know I took that stats class once.” “Because I double checked everything you turned in.” “Makes you slightly less of an idiot than the vibe you're giving off right now.” “A freeway or compliments.” Pulling in a deep inhale through her nose, Lizzie didn’t miss the way Roland’s gaze fell. To the neckline of her dress, lingering on the jut of her collarbones for a few seconds longer than a strictly platonic friendship should allow, and they were friends. Still. She knew that as well as she knew that he believed she thought he was simply being clever with nicknames.

And not making vaguely incorrect My Fair Lady references.

Because he’d always been a little annoyed that Eliza had gone back to Henry Higgins. Instead of Freddie.

It was really impossible not to be a little in love with him at all times.

“You’re really going to hyphenate?” Roland nodded. “Think of all the new jerseys they’ll sell.” “By the box-load, and Gina’s gonna buy the entire stock. She’s—that’s really nice, you know.” “Just a fact. Little late, but—” He shrugged. Lizzie’s smile threatened to split her face. In that same nice way, she’d been talking about. Her lips were still buzzing. She might have been buzzing. With adrenaline. Happiness. The near-desperate desire to find some type of closet and get her fingers back in Roland’s questionably long hair.

“Of naming conventions.” She couldn’t begin to guess what the record was for shoulder shifts in an emotionally charged conversation between two people who were simultaneously ignoring the point of the conversation, but Lizzie also knew her eyebrows had been halfway up her face as he’d detailed the reasons for making his jersey say Mills-Locksley. From here on out.

Maybe that was the top of the list, actually.

He was a good guy.

Had always been a good guy. The best guy, really.

Falling into that chasm wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Lizzie expected it to be.

“Why’d you do it?” Roland’s lips disappeared. His tongue moved, again. She was staring at the area around his tongue. So, like, his mouth. Directly at his mouth. “Because, I uh—have wanted to?” “Oh, don’t phrase that like a question.” “Wanted to,” he repeated, a statement of fact with a certain amount of conviction. Enough to make Lizzie’s pulse sputter. “Which is kind of freaking me out.” “Come back with more compliments.” “Your dress nearly made me fall over.” “Better, actually,” she laughed.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Made sense at the time.” “Be more specific.” “Kissing you,” Roland said, enough emphasis that he leaned forward half an inch as well. It was a miracle their noses didn’t collide. Not the most impressive miracle, but—counted. “If I tell you that you might be my best friend does that make the lamest professional hockey player alive?” “Yes, absolutely.” “Matt might challenge you to a duel if he hears me talking like this, you know.” “God, Locksley, didn’t we just talk about the Mattie rules? Also, that made it sound like Mattie wants to kiss you too, so...”

He chuckled. Fingers still tugging on the back of his hair, like he was trying to ground himself in the pull and the self-inflicted tension, Roland looked up. Back at her. And Lizzie didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Held her position and prepared herself to defend the schedule she’d only ever allowed herself to hope for in the silence of that one corner in her brain.

Filled, as it was, with memories. Of conversations that didn’t have anything to do with hockey. Others that did. Arguing over blue line placement in the brownstone and college rankings. Of movies watched on two different laptops in different corners of the country, bad jokes, and consistent updates, that deep-rooted understanding that came from a life full of expectations and the exact opposite. No overt pressure, but the need to prove yourself anyway, if only because of the name on the back of the jersey, and Lizzie was going to have to buy a new jersey.

“You like me? Yes, or no?” Roland smiled. Wide and honest, the kind that ensured the dimple was on prominent display. “Yes.” “I am a grown adult? Yes, or no?” Crinkles appeared around his eyes. From the smile.

“Yes.” “Meaning I get to make my own choices. Romantically, or otherwise. Yes, or no?” “Obviously.” “Wasn’t one of the options.” “Yes,” Roland corrected, fingers trailing over the bend of her elbow. Lizzie hadn’t uncrossed her arms. Or remembered when she’d crossed them in the first place.

“Ok, good. Same page, then.” “Liza.” “Locksley.” Lifting her eyebrows wasn’t a challenge, per se. Was closer to instinct, really. Specifics didn’t matter, honestly. She did that thing with her eyebrows, and he did that thing with his mouth, the same one she was staring at and hoping would move closer to her, and then—

Well, it did.

Hands found Lizzie’s hips, pulling her forward sharply enough that she let out a soft grunt. From the feel of hips bumping against hers, and she honestly wasn’t sure who hissed in their next inhale, only that it did something to the flutter-like state of her pulse and the erratic nature of her heart, and it was slow and fast and good and great and not a single person noticed.

Miracles were arriving en masse, apparently.

Pushing her fingers into Roland’s hair got Lizzie another hum of approval, the first brush of his tongue making her lips part and her head fall to the side, but then his hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, and she could not be expected to pay attention to anything except the semi-consistent swipe of his thumb against her skin. It left more goosebumps. Caused another chuckle, the kind that rumbled through her and resonated around her, a tiny bubble of that same cautious optimism from before.

Like a spark.

Fanning flames and threatening to burn everything because if this didn’t work, then Lizzie wasn’t sure what would, and that was scary and overwhelming and terrifying was a synonym, but she really was working with very limited word-based resources when Roland’s thumb kept moving. Tracing her. Committing the feel to memory, and she wasn’t sure when they’d established the rocking pattern they were moving in, but something deep in the center of her trusted it.

Someone who regularly strapped knives to his feet and raced around at top speed knew how to stay balanced. And she was a stubborn idiot. Who got what she wanted.

“Is part of liking me because I told you I didn’t think it was embarrassing that you still got a little emotional about Miracle on 34th Street?” Laughter pushed past her lips. Took root in the pit of her stomach and the spaces between her ribs. Laced through her heart. In the kind of way that cemented itself. Right in the middle of Lizzie. Right in the middle of this. Them.

There was a them, now.

“Was definitely a factor, yeah,” Roland said, not bothering to pull away. “You, uh—you snuck up on me a little, Liza.” “Peak romance.” “Want me to talk about your dress some more?” She shook her head. “Unnecessary. And you didn’t.” “That might be part of the problem.” “Nursing old crushes, you mean?” Her hair hit her cheek. And his hand. He couldn’t seem to let go of her. “Nah, this wasn’t like...there was no torch, not really. I—I wasn’t hanging posters of you on my wall if that’s the picture you’ve painted for yourself.” “Kinda disappointing, admittedly.” “Pick a lane, babe.” No sparkle, that time. Just flash and want and the very thin line Lizzie’s lips had become. “Be more specific,” Roland repeated softly. “You’re not standing on a pedestal. Just you, Rol, as is.” He waited. That was fair. There should have been more. Should have been a detailed list of all the reasons the grown-up version of her liked so many parts of the grown-up version of him, but that all felt a little extraneous when she was still thinking about closet-type possibilities and that stubborn streak was a mile wide, anyway.

Roland nodded once. “Good.”

Both of them jumped. At the pop of another champagne bottle and Lizzie never understood how Regina managed to order so much champagne every year, but she felt a bit like she was floating on the bubbles, and they didn’t decide. Explicitly. To keep the whole thing—

Secret.

Another bad word. With bad connotations and shadows that clung to the definition, but this was them and only them and, for right now, that was enough. And if no one noticed the way Roland’s hand drifted over the small of Lizzie’s back during David’s speech, then that was a miracle she was willing to accept.

#blue line rambles #blue line one shots #these really are just original characters at this point #i have also written:#matt and claire meeting for the first time #henry and ella meeting for the first time #stuff about peggy and jeremy humbert #and i've got a whole list of will x belle stuff #in case it wasn't ovbious people still aren't responding to my emails #oh! also roland and lizzie's engagement #i wrote that too #also if you are so inclined: wilder days by morgan wade played like four times while i wrote this #mylifeisalifestyle #laura rambles

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papermoonish · 3 years ago

Text

when the weather changed

"Wait for me!"

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

autumn brings weather changes and simple sweetness. for kirishima and bakugou it comes first in the shape of friends and then each other

read on AO3 or keep reading here

Kiri is on the roof of the school building. There are mesh fences keeping the small spot up in the air secluded - safe. He's sitting on the floor, his back to the wall hiding the staircase, eyes closed and head leaning against the concrete.

The air tastes like crisp autumn, fresh and cold with the promise of warmth tingling. Maybe tomorrow, maybe later. The door opens and Kirishima straightens up, opens his eyes and reaches for his water bottle. With two quick movements he looks busy. Nothing weird going on here.

"Hey man," he smiles, and Denki waves back.

"Yo dude. I was looking everywhere for you."

Denki drops besides him, loose and easy. His shoulder brushes Kirishima's as he’s reaching for the food in Kiri's lap, stealing a small piece of pre-cut sausage. He's warm, body slumping against his friend with a content sigh.

"Ah sorry! What's up?”

Denki pops his lips, pulls up his phone and scans the screen quickly before tapping away on it. He's sitting cross-legged, his knee occasionally bumping against Kiri's thigh. He steals another piece of sausage and chews it a little too loudly but it’s okay. Kirishima appreciates the company.

"Didn’t see you at lunch and thought you might've run away with a hot girl into a future unknown.”

Kirishima snorts and shakes his head, red hair doesn’t move an inch. Next to him Denki cracks his knuckles, but only the ones on his left hand.

"In the middle of a Monday?”

"Who am I to question the timely manners of love, bro."

"Bro."

They laugh and the wind picks up a bit, messing up Denki's hair. As he tries to fix it he lets out a loud groan. Kiri reaches up to tuck a few strands back with the others.

"Nah dude, I'd never leave you behind."

"You better won’t. Blasty would have my ass if he heard you got away and I knew."

There’s an implication between the words, simmering right in the space left after them. Kirishima blinks and shakes it off, smiles until the dimple on his right cheek shows up.

"He has your ass for everything. He owns it."

"HE DOES NOT OWN MY ASS!"

Kiri giggles, downs the rest of his water and rubs his nose. The movement causes Denki to sway a bit, still leaning on his friend. He catches himself and sits up, wiggling his eyebrows.

"That's gay," he snickers.

"Denki-"

"No Ei,” he raises his hands in defeat, pouting, “I simply do not wanna think about Bakugou in a sexual way."

"That’s not even close to what I said."

"It was IMPLIED!"

"IT WASN’T!"

They’re shoving at each other now, laughing and the water bottle drops, rolls away across the deck. The rest of Kirishima's lunch nearly falls too, but just at the last second he remembers and puts it aside. Seeing an opening, Denki throws himself at Kirishima and they both topple over. Denki is snorting, Kiri is chuckling. The sun shines.

"EW, DUDE!"

The wet stripe Denki licked across Kirishima's palm glistens in the autumn weather and Kiri is fast to wipe it at Denki's dress shirt.

"You're so gross."

"Excuse me? You have a crush on Bakugou, that's nasty!"

"Ughh,” Kirishima hides his face in his hands, “don’t bring that up."

"You can't censor me, this is a free country."

Their laughter fades at the same time as the sunshine, covered by a few thin clouds moving across the blue. Lunch is coming to an end and Kiri hears Denki's bones pop from stretching his hands. A rumble in the sky makes a few birds fly up and the boys look up.

"I- … uh-"

Denki rolls onto his side and makes a whole show of getting up, like standing is a dance he owns. He cracks his neck and Kirishima cringes at the sound, worrying his lip.

"I won’t tell him. Drop the pout, lovebird."

He reaches out a hand and Kiri grabs it quickly, and then he gets pulled up from the floor with the sun reappearing. Warmth immediately spreads across their skin.

"Thanks, man.”

Denki waves his hand, grins mischievously.

"Bro, you've got so much more dirt on me. This is self-protection.”

"Bro I’d never tell any of them anything."

"I know, I know. You’re just good like that,” he laughs. "One day either Shinso, Jirou, Sero or Tetsu will notice me. I'm not giving up yet."

"You're helpless," Kirishima shoos away a mosquito. “You should pick one of them to work your charm on.”

"I’d go for you, but your little monkey brain is already wired in the wrong direction, babe."

Kiri fake gags and Denki shoves him, hard. They gather their stuff - meaning Kirishima grabs all his things and Denki starts breakdancing next to him. Denki opens the door and bows, giving him the, "After you, good sir." and Kiri bows right back with a, "Oh my, thank you darling."

The door falls into its lock and clicks shut. A gust of wind picks up and moves the water bottle Kirishima forgot on the deck. It clatters against the mesh fence and rolls a few feet across the floor. It’ll be found later by someone else, surely. Not everyone has a bright red metal bottle with multiple stickers of pictures of his friends. They get back to class and the sun still shines.

* at the same time *

The cafeteria is too loud. There's laughter and screaming, talking, shuffling, things dropping and people running. For Bakugou the cafeteria hurts, it rings all the way through his ears to the bottom of his brain and he furrows his brows while poking chopsticks into rice.

"You want a spoon for the rice soup you’re making there?"

Bakugou flinches, knuckles turning white before the colour slowly creeps back, blood flow released.

"Watch your mouth," he barks into the direction of the person sitting across the table.

"Can’t, I'm eating. You should try it, it’s supposed to be good for you."

"I fucking know, Tapeface. What’s your issue?”

Sero grins before digging back into his chicken, his legs long under the table right under the window. His feet knock against Bakugou's ankles. Neither of them moves.

"What's yours? You're usually not that grumpy at lunch."

Bakugou looks at him for a few seconds, like he's considering, waging something in his head.

"'s loud here," he finally settles on.

"Oh."

Sero blinks, then he grabs his backpack and tray and Bakugou flinches again at the speed of it.

"What are you-"

"Come on big guy, grab your stuff."

"Huh?"

"There's tables outside, next to the gym building."

Oh. That’s right.

When they settle again Bakugou's forehead is still crinkled and Sero pokes him, index finger smudging against his skin. The wrinkles smooth out a bit. Sero puts his phone on the table, screen up. Bakugou can see the small notification LED blinking yellow.

"Ya still look grumpy."

Bakugou shrugs, finally eats his rice like a normal person. Sero hums, low and deep, then rustles inside of his bag and pulls out a juice pouch. There's a drop spilling when he puts the straw in a little too forcefully and Bakugou hands him a napkin.

"I have a goddamn headache."

"Ah."

The wind picks up and the sun vanishes behind thin clouds. The building casts enough shade to cover them and their table fully now and it’s a little colder.

"Maybe Ei can do his magic hands thing later. Doesn't he help sometimes?"

Bakugou shrugs but he averts his eyes, dipping his rice into sauce before shoving it into his mouth. He knows Sero can see through it but he also knows Sero is gentle. He hums again and Bakugou breathes.

"Yeah.”

Sero finishes his food and sips his juice, offering it to Bakugou but obviously being declined. He just shrugs.

"Denki texted me he's on the roof if ya wanna go up and ask."

Bakugou shakes his head, puts the lid back onto his bento box. He catches the way Sero checks at his phone, types away an answer to a message that made him smile.

"Lunch is over in a few anyway."

"You have some rice on your shirt."

"Ah shit."

The sun comes back out and Sero's phone chimes. He glances at it and sighs, swiping the little alarm notification away.

"Back to class then, wonder kid."

"You're on thin fucking ice, Hanta."

"Aw with the first name? You make me blush today."

"Bitch."

"No need to sweet talk me after you had a lunch date with me."

"Oh my fucking god I despise you."

He grabs his bag and then puts the trash from Sero's tray on his own, sliding them together. He carries both. Sero holds the door open for him and Bakugou grunts a thank you. The wind starts howling and the cafeteria is still filled with laughter when they enter.

*later*

The school day ends and the sky is grey. There are dark speckles between heavy clouds and the light turned a muddy yellow. The sun isn't visible and you can’t feel it either, all the warmth traveled further away into other days, future hours. Bakugou's kicking the door to the sky deck open with his foot, the sole squeaking against the heavy metal.

"Fucking bullshit."

There’s a rumble and then rain hits his face and there's a giggle right behind him, echoing in the halls of the stairway.

"Wait for me!"

Bakugou keeps the door open with a snarl.

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

Bakugou looks at him, getting soaked more every second, hair slowly plastering itself against his forehead. Water gets caught in his lashes and drips into his shoes. His socks get wet. He blinks once and Kiri rubs his blushing neck, laughing.

"Yeah," his lip pulls upwards, "wouldn't fucking want that, hah?"

Kirishima bolts out into the rain, Bakugou looks after him before following. There are small puddles on the floor and Kiri steps into them intentionally, grinning as he notices his boots are waterproof enough for his shenanigans.

"All right, where are you? Come out, come out wherever you are," Kirishima sing-songs.

"You're so stupid."

"Shhhh maybe it's hiding from us."

"Your water bottle?"

Kiri nods. “Maybe it feels your negative vibes, bro."

"Maybe I’ll make you feel a negative vibe in a second, bro."

It’s an empty threat and Kirishima laughs.

He keeps running and the sky doesn't split open to let light through. Bakugou licks his lips, rainwater on his tongue, and walks towards the fence to the south side. It’s like Kirishima forgot where he sat with the way he's buzzing through the rain, arms spread and face tilted towards the sky.

Bakugou spots his bottle immediately, picks it up with his pinky hooking through the loop on the cap. He inspects the stickers and none of them are peeling. When he turns, Kiri is standing still, looking up at the falling rain, hair bending and bowing under the weather.

"You done with your moment?" Bakugou yells over the noise.

"It’s so nice."

"The rain?"

"Hmh."

Bakugou comes up next to him, holds up the bottle but Kirishima’s eyes are closed. So he bumps the cold metal against the exposed skin under Kirishima’s rolled up sleeves.

"Got the goods."

"Ah! thank you, Blasty."

"You'll never drop that name huh?"

Kiri shrugs and Bakugou watches his shoulders move.

"It’s a good name."

"It’s old as shit. Come up with something better."

"Stop exploding into our faces then," Kirishima turns his head and grins.

"Never."

"That’s what I thought."

Kiri's quiet until Bakugou pulls up his nose. The sky keeps making noises that hint ever so closely at a thunderstorm coming.

"Ah shit, okay let's go back inside. You're soaked!"

"Duh."

"Thanks for coming to look with me though."

They both know Kirishima would’ve found his bottle on his own. They don’t address it though and somehow the knowledge settles between them in the form of physical contact. Bakugou simply accepts the wet arm that’s thrown over his shoulder, it soothes the tension built up in his muscles.

"You can thank me by doing your hand thing."

Kirishima’s head snaps towards him, eyes big and round. There are water droplets in his eyebrows.

"You have another headache? Man, why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Kiri grabs his bottle from Bakugou, their fingers touch. Kiri smiles and walks towards the door. His hand reaches for the handle and it creaks under the movement.

"School," Bakugou says, voice calm while he shrugs.

"Let’s get dry and then I can come over? Whatcha say?"

Bakugou nods, brushes past Kirishima holding the door open. The arm that was around his shoulder slides off and it’s immediately cold where it lay. It’s now freezing in the hallway, especially dripping wet.

"D’you think Sero has a crush on Denki?"

Bakugou huffs, towel rubbing over his ears. They’re in the baths, air warm from their recent shower. The mirror Bakugou stands in front of is fogged up and Kirishima reaches over, hand smearing across the glass until his image is visible.

"I don’t care."

"Come on, gossip with me," Kirishima pokes his finger into Bakugou’s shoulder and the blond doesn’t even turn to look.

"No."

"But you always have the best takes."

"Shut up."

"Katsukiii please."

The towel drops. The sky breaks open and a few late sunbeams work their way through the clouds, illuminating UA in the softest glow. The boys are inside though, the warm bathroom shielding them from the outside, they can’t see.

But Bakugou looks at Kirishima and he simply knows, knows the grey is making space for evening blues and purples, knows the muddy yellow will turn into clear orange.

"I won’t spill Tapeface's secrets."

"Not even to me?" The puppy eyes get ignored.

"Especially not to you, you can't keep your big mouth shut ever!"

"That’s not true! I never spill secrets."

Bakugou unlocks his dorm room door and watches Kiri walk in before him. Bakugou smells his shampoo, it’s a mix of something woody and sweet.

"You're spilling right now."

"Yeah but to you, that’s different."

He sits down in the desk chair, swiveling around a bit. Digging the heels of his feet into the beige carpet. He’s barefoot in Bakugou’s room and it feels intimate. Bakugou snaps a laugh, it’s dry. Kirishima perks up at it.

"It’s not different, you’re making shit up."

"Uh yeah? I like sharing with you?"

"You like talking to everyone."

He drops himself on the floor, back pressed to Kiri's shins and tipping his head back over the redhead’s knees. It’s a bit uncomfortable but it gives Bakugou enough control over the situation. Not that he’d need it here. Kiri's hands gently weave themselves through towel dried blond hair, fingertips pressing against his scalp.

"I like talking to you most though," he says simply.

"Ew."

Kirishima laughs, Bakugou closes his eyes. He lets Kiri work his fingers through his hair, lets his nails scrape and scratch in all the right places and with every minute passing by he feels the headache less and less.

They're quiet for a bit and then he goes, "Hanta's whipped as fuck."

"I KNEW it!"

The ceiling light bathes them in warm white and the sky outside is hidden behind curtains.

#krbk #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #krbk fanfic #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #kiribaku fanfiction #no hurt just comfort

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queeranesearch · 4 years ago

Text

So I couldn’t stop thinking about this post by @spookysukki so I had to write something based of it, sooo...

Jetru stans come get your juice!

It occurred to Jet whilst lying in a wheatfield with a beautiful boy, that he absolutely shouldn’t be letting himself get this close to him. The realisation that he’d developed feelings for Haru had been sudden, but not too surprising. All his previous interactions with the earthbender had stacked up in his mind; he thought about how Haru had beaten him in a sparring match and helped Jet get down from the tree he was pinned against, close enough that Jet could see the light dusting of freckles scattered just under his eyes; how one morning Haru had asked him with bleary eyes if he could help him comb out his nest of tangled hair and Jet had momentarily forgotten how to breathe; how Haru used to cover his mouth when he smiled to hide the small gap between his front teeth, how he’d blushed brilliantly when Jet had moved his hand in a sudden surge of confidence and told him he shouldn’t hide something so lovely from him. These thoughts stacked up and up in his head as he tossed and turned at night, and came crashing right down to his heart until a soft, understanding ‘oh!’ passed Jet’s lips. So a few weeks later when Haru was tasked with collecting more lychees and asked Jet if he wanted to help, Jet pretended to consider his offer, pointedly ignoring how the corners of Longshot’s mouth quirked up into a knowing smile, how Smellerbee rolled her eyes in exasperation, how his heart had stuttered at Haru’s grin when he said yes. Now the lychees lay forgotten in baskets by their feet in the low-hanging sun, and Jet twirled his wheat stalk between his teeth in nonchalance, as though Haru’s shoulder brushing against his didn’t make his chest tighten. Really, it was quite audacious of Haru, making him question every little thing he said or did; if Jet could be described as anything, it was confident, quick-thinking, assured; he knew what he wanted and how to get it and left no room for self-doubt. Frankly it was embarrassing how all it took was for Haru to smile at him, or to let his eyes linger for a little longer than necessary to reduce Jet’s mind into a frenzy of ‘Does he like me too? If I lean back like this do I look cool or stupid? Spirits, he’s so pretty-wait, am I staring too much?’ Apparently, his face had screwed up quite a bit during his rambling stream of consciousness, as Haru had sat up to peer at his face curiously.. “What are you brooding about?” “I’m not brooding.” Jet scowled, narrowing his eyes at the cocky grin that spread on the other boy’s face. “You always brood.” Haru rolled his eyes, pushing some stubborn strands of hair out of his face with a habitual flick of his hand, which Jet watched with close interest; he had taken to wearing his hair in a ponytail now to keep it out the way, exposing the freckles and moles scattered on the back of his neck. Jet swallowed thickly, averting his eyes before he gave in to the urge to kiss them. “You’re doing it again, see?” Haru snickered, causing Jet’s eyes to snap back towards him. “What are you thinking about?” “You.” Haru scoffed and turned away, though Jet didn’t miss how his face reddened right up to the tips of his ears. Jet knew he was playing a dangerous game; if it turned out Haru didn’t feel the same way their relationship would surely be doomed, and the very thought of that sent a jolt of panic into Jet’s heart. Still, he propped himself up on his shoulders, daring to smirk when Haru turned back slightly to peek at him. A breath of a laugh escaped Haru as he shook his head, reaching over to flick at the stalk of wheat in Jet’s mouth. “You’re always chewing on that.” He teased, albeit a little quietly; probably trying to change the subject, Jet thought with some dejection. “Were you born with wheat in your mouth, or something?” “Ha ha.” Jet replied dryly, because he’d certainly never heard that one before. But Haru laughed, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he pulled out a stalk of wheat from the beside him, putting it in his mouth and facing Jet with a smug expression, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in what Jet assumed was an attempt to mimic his behavior. He bit back a smile. “My name’s Jet.” Haru started in a slightly lowered voice, his eyebrows raised at the arch. “These are my Freedom Riders-” “Fighters.” “I like swords and wheat and I still owe Haru a bao bun for losing that sparring match-” “I didn’t lose, I tripped.” “I also get butthurt very easily-” Then in a brilliant moment of what Jet considered karma, Haru inhaled too deeply and sucked the piece of wheat back into his throat, catching the boy by surprise as he choked, thumping his fist against his chest as he unceremoniously spat it out, his face screwed up in disgust as he stared at the wheat as if it had planned the whole ordeal. Jet didn’t even try to suppress the loud laugh that erupted from his chest, throwing his head back so far that he fell onto his back again; his eyes screwed shut, his nose scrunched up, and he felt his cheeks start to ache out of the sheer width of his wide smile, his arms clutching at his stomach as he snorted and wheezed so much he thought that he might choke on his own wheat as well. Finally his laughter stuttered down into chuckles, his arm resting over his eyes as a content sigh passed through his still-smiling lips. Jet started to make a snarky comment about Haru’s awful impersonation, moving his arm to look at him only to find that the earthbender was staring at him with awe-struck eyes, his mouth slightly agape. All of a sudden Jet felt stuck, acutely aware of how fast his heart was beating and how flushed his face felt, and it wasn’t because of the laughing fit. “I love your laugh,” Haru said softly, almost shyly as he gazed at Jet’s face, the slowly setting sun casting a warm, ethereal glow onto his skin. For a moment, Jet felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared unabashedly back, for once feeling at a complete loss of what to do; what did you do when you were lying in a wheat field with a beautiful boy, when he looked at you with such a yearning fondness like he was memorising the planes of your face, when you wanted nothing more than to cradle his face and kiss him until he was breathless, to lie there with him in the wheat that had flattened to hold you in beds just your shape, to kiss him until time stopped, to kiss him to kiss him to kiss him. Jet tried to remind himself that he’d be risking it all if he did so, that guys like him didn’t get happy endings, or lovey-dovey kisses with pretty boys. Then Haru was talking again; “It’s cute when you let yourself have fun.” And then he was smiling in that honest, unguarded way of his, and there were dimples in his blushing cheeks and Jet let himself stare at his mouth and at the little gap between his teeth and decided that if he didn’t take a risk right now he would never forgive himself, so he surged forward until the space between them closed up and- And he knocked his forehead right against Haru’s. And he forgot about the wheat in his mouth and now Haru was coughing again. Great fucking spirits. “Shit! I- Sorry, I- I was trying to- dammit, I didn’t mean to do that.” Jet groaned, covering his reddening face with his hands as his whole body cringed with embarrassment. “I messed it all up.” Before he could begin to think about how much he wanted the ground to swallow him up, Haru laughed lightly; then there were hands moving his own away from his face, warm green eyes staring into his. “Don’t laugh.” Jet muttered, his heart stuttering at how close they were. “Sorry.” Haru smirked, not sounding sorry at all as he gently plucked the wheat stalk out of Jet’s mouth, his thumb brushing against his lips. “Wanna try that again?” For a fraction of a second Jet’s eyes widened, then he was leaning forward again and finally his lips were on Haru’s, and they were warm and slightly chapped and so much better than Jet could ever imagine. Haru’s hands found their way to the base of Jet’s neck, curling into his hair as he wasted no time in kissing back, and it was messy and inexperienced, and their noses bumped and their teeth knocked together and there was no other way Jet would have it. Even when they pulled away for air Jet wasn’t idle, his hands cupping Haru’s face as he pressed his lips to Haru’s forehead, his nose, the corners of his smiling mouth, to every freckle he saw, revelling in the way the other boy laughed and said his name in such a way that told Jet he’d thought of doing this just as much as Jet had. “Jet,” Haru gasped, his cheeks and lips flushed a wonderful shade of red. “Jet did you- did you eat some of the lychees?” All Jet could do was nod, coherent words failing him for a moment as he gazed at this beautiful, beautiful boy with a dopey smile on his face, his heart light as Haru rested their foreheads against each other. “Is this any better, then?” He finally asked, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he grinned ear to ear. Haru laughed his beautiful laugh, and pretended to ponder on the question. “Hm, I dunno. I think we’ll have to try again.” So Jet kissed him again. And again. And again.

#LISTEN..I LOVE THEM #i was listening to mitski whilst writing this and it shows sdhjfjk #meanwhile smellerbee is wondering where on earth her damn lychees are #you know what i'll post this on ao3 too i like it #jas has a pen #atla jet #jet atla #jet avatar #how many tags does he have adjd #mouth wheat boy #haru atla #atla haru #haru avatar #jetru #atla #avatar: the last airbender

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

Text

Something Just Like This - CH25

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: NSFW, fluff, angst, violence, minor character death

WC: 4366

A/N: I had this chapter ready before I thought I would. Happy Tuesday, I guess!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Cas walks beside Y/N, she has her hand hooked through his arm, her grip’s tight around his biceps. She’s shaking. Not particularly because of Cain’s words. Well, maybe a little because he makes it sound like he could bring everyone down and he’s not afraid to do it if she gives him a reason to. She feels like she’s caught between a rock and a hard place. That’s not really true either, she feels like she’s caught between a rock and a soft place, one that is 6ft tall and freckled and she knows which one she would choose if she has to.

“I need a drink.” She mutters under her breath and Cas hears her, guides her through the mass of people and makes a beeline for the bar wordlessly, he doesn't even complain at how hard her grip is on him.

She orders something that for sure will go to her head fast, takes two shots within seconds, inhales and exhales loudly. She closes her eyes, counts to ten before opening them again to see Cas’ staring at her, a crease between his eyebrows. “You okay? Did he do anything to you?”

“I’m okay, don’t worry about it.” Y/N says, because it’s true. She’s feeling so much better already, her head gets woozy.

“I kinda have to be.” Cas purses his lips, gives her a last nod when he sees that she won’t be answering him and turns around to face the dance floor. He leans back, his elbows resting on the bar top.

There were lots of people dancing, some of them mingling around the edge of the dance floor.

They watch the dancers in silence for a while when Cas suddenly turns to her and asks, “You wanna dance?” He’s already holding out a hand for her to take, which means that he’s not taking no for an answer.

“I must warn you,” She’s laughing as she places her hand in his, clearly feeling light headed from the booze, “I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Can I tell you something?” Cas asks as he leads her towards the middle of the dance floor, dodging some other dancers as they go.

“Of course.”

He has one hand around her waist now and she places her hand on his shoulder. Cas winks, “I’m terrible too.”

They dance and laugh for a while and she’s sure that Cas’ toes are numb by now from her standing on them all the time.

“May I have the next dance?” Dean’s standing next to them, a stupid grin on his face. She wonders how long he’s been watching them. Wonders if he’s seen that they were terrible dancers. He must have. She’s blushing a little at the thought of him watching her making a fool out of herself.

“Oh my god, I’m a terrible dancer.” She says, her cheeks are flushed and she’s a little out of breath from laughing too much.

Cas’ mouths something to Dean that looks like ‘terrible’ while rolling his eyes.

“I take the chance.” Dean grins and sneaks his hand around her waist, and she places one hand on his shoulder and the other one in his hand.

Dean starts to lead and surprisingly, she’s not as clumsy as she was with Cas.

“You’re not bad.” He pulls her a little closer, his big hand is on the small of her back, his fingers span over the whole of her back. She feels safe in Dean’s hands.

“The terrible dancer must be Cas then.”

Dean laughs, “Yeah. Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because Cas can’t lead.”

“What do you mean?”

Dean swings her around, and it’s surprisingly smooth. She also manages not to trip over her own feet. “Because Cas’ never played the male role when we were practicing.”

She raises an eyebrow and looks up to him. “You mean ‘we’ as in you and Cas?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles at the memory. “Dad wanted me to take dancing lessons but then I got Cas’ to play the woman. We practiced so much that I’m quite good but he’s the worst.”

“Oh no, poor guy.”

“It’s okay, I think Anna’s teaching him now.”

She raises her eyebrows in question, “Anna?”

“His girlfriend.” Dean smirks.

“Cas has a girlfriend?” She didn’t know, never thought of one of them having anyone, to be honest. Feels a little guilty because of course they have their own lives too, next to the one they’re living. They must have.

Dean swings her around, avoids bumping into others on the dance floor, “Yeah, she was a GP. A few towns out. Fixed Cas up real good when things went wrong. They’ve been together since and she even moved here to be near him.”

“Awe, I Iove that for Cas.” She’s smiling, and is genuinely happy about it.

Dean chuckles, stops mid dance and leans down to kiss her. He parts after, this thumb comes up to brush at her bottom lip, lingers there too long and she bites on it, which makes Dean grin. “I taste tequila.”

“Yeah, rough night.” She breathes out.

“There I was about to ask you how you’d feel about me and you drinking a bottle of champagne on the rooftop, but now I’d rather not take the bottle with me.”

“Unless,” Y/N squints her eyes and looks up at him. He’s so cute when he has his lips pursed and there’s a hint of a smile, his dimples showing a little. “You wanna hold my hair back when I puke all over the bathroom.”

“Yeah, hard pass.” Dean says in a playful voice while he leads her away from the dance floor, his hands staying on the small of her back.

They ride up in the elevator, and Dean has a hard time not picking her up and making her ride his hard dick. Has to remind himself that they’re not home and he has to fucking behave.

Now he’s having a key to the rooftop, doesn’t even have to pick the lock. Money buys you access to all kinds of places, apparently.

He opens the door, lets her take it in first. He’s been here a moment ago, helping the employee set up the fairy lights and lounger chair.

“Wow.” Y/N walks a couple of steps towards the railing. The city light sparkles in the dark. “Did you do all that just to get into my pants?”

“Can’t lie that it’s also part of the plan, yeah,” He walks up behind her, hugs her from behind, kisses the crown of her head. “Come on.”

Dean leads her to the lounger chair, lies on it and looks up to the sky, waits for her to join him. He hates being in the city. Hates it sometimes, that the air is so polluted and the lights are so bright that he can never spot any stars.

It makes him want to move out even more. Move somewhere where they can always see stars on a clear night sky.

She joins him and he takes her in his arms, letting her rest her head on his chest.

He kisses the top of her hair, his fingers lazily stroking along her back, “Can I ask you something? From friend to friend?”

She tilts her head up, “Hit me.”

“Right,” He clears his throat, “There’s a girl I kind of have a crush on. And I kinda just bid on her at an auction. Do you think that’s creepy?”

“How much did you spend?”

“Two hundred?”

“That’s not a lot.”

“Thousand?”

“Ugh. You should tone it down a little. But I don’t know, does she like you back or is it one sided?”

“I have a strong feeling that she has a crush on me too. But now I’m afraid that she’s a little mad at me.”

“Ah,” She laughs and braces her forearm on his chest, leans down to kiss him. His heart is making somersaults. “‘M not mad. I just don’t want you to spend money on me.”

“I know, can’t promise that I won’t do it again though,” He sighs and adds, “Sorry I had to talk to Crowley in private.”

“It’s okay, Cas found me.”

His forehead creases, “Found you where?”

“Shit,” She mutters, hides her face in the crook of his neck.

“Y/N.” He rarely calls her by name he realizes, only does it when he’s a little annoyed with her.

She looks up and mumbles, her mouth still on his shirt, “Cain was waiting for me in front of the bathroom.”

“He what?” It might have come out louder than he intended.

“Yeah, basically asked me why I left him. And then he said that he’s the key to your next whatever it is and that he holds the upper hand.”

God dammit.

“Did he?” Dean controls his voice now.

“I asked him if he would rat you out and he said no because he wants the money you’ve promised him, but I don’t trust him. He also said that maybe he can win me back once he’s rich.”

“Huh,” He breathes out, “And what did you say?”

“Okay, don’t be mad at me alright?”

“Baby,” Dean cradles her face, trails his thumb across her cheeks and pulls her down, kisses her, “I could never be mad at you.”

“Well, you’ve been all shades of annoyed.”

That’s true. Can’t lie about that, but he’s never been mad.

“I told him maybe.”

“You what?” Dean shouts out.

“You’re being loud!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He says and hisses instead, “You what?”

“I don’t know, I just did it because I want him to keep hoping! So like, that he would keep working for your whatever it is! I know that it’s the worst thing to say to a stalker but,” She buries her face in the crook of his neck again, mumbles into his skin, “You’re mad.”

Dean lets her words sink in before he laughs, making her look up at him as if he’s gone crazy.

“‘M not mad,” He soothes her, smiling a little, too, “You know why I talked to Crowley?”

“No?”

“Because I want Cain out. That dude’s fucking creepy and he doesn’t fucking know his place!”

“And?”

“He’s out. He just doesn’t know it yet. Crowley said he’ll tell him tonight.”

“Wow, that easy?”

“Yeah, Ash’s been working a lot and we have another contact from the company Cain works for.”

“Oh thank god.” She straddles him now, attacks his lips and he smiles into the kiss.

“So,” Dean says when they part and she grins above him. “What do you say,” He draws figures on her dress with his fingers, “Now that we got this out of the way, can I get in your pants?”

There’s a glint in her eyes when she moves down his lap to kneel in between his thighs, her lips crooked up at the edges. “Not if I get in yours first.”

Her fingers hastily work on his belt, unbuttons his pants and pulls down the zipper, and there’s that little tongue sticking out at the corner of her lips when she’s concentrating. Dean thinks it’s super cute.

She cups his cock through his underwear, and laughs when he jerks his hips at the sudden friction.

Hooking her fingers through his waistband, she pulls it down, and he helps her, lifts his ass so she can push the underwear and pants past his ass. He strokes himself twice, feels his cock hardening at the thought of what’s to come. Not that it wasn’t already half hard before. He doesn’t think soft is a frequent occurrence around her.

Taking his dick in her hands, she licks up along the shaft, and Dean bites back a moan that’s about to escape. Fears that if he starts, he’s gonna lose it too soon.

Y/N’s grinning when she spits on his dick, strokes him one handed and lowers her head down to suck at his balls. She sucks them in, one by one and lets it out with a lewd popping sound, her fist twisting at the head of his cock.

“Baby, if you keep on doing that it’ll be over before you know it.” He’s barely able to hold himself together.

She snorts out a laugh at that and comes back up, sucks in the tip of his cock and works her mouth deeper.

That’s the thing, he usually has very good stamina but with her, that went out the window pretty fast. He makes it up to her though and sometimes, can go twice or even three times in a row when he’s really horny. Mostly his horniness depends on her neediness, and sometimes, she can be insatiable. Not that he minds, he just has a hard time keeping up.

Dean watches her take his cock, it’s not perfect, she can’t take that much in and she’s also not very experienced — mainly also his fault because he doesn’t let her do it that often. It’s a fight of dominance between them, really, because he just loves it a little bit more when he can go down on her and not the other way around.

Even though she's not perfect, she still is. Because it’s her.

She fists the part she can’t swallow, and bobs her head to the rhythm. He can clearly see that she enjoys it as much as he does, maybe even a little bit more because she likes that, likes it when she can make him lose his mind.

“That’s it. Just like that, breathe baby, don’t forget to breathe.” She looks up at him, her eyes a little teary but full of determination. “Good girl. You’re taking my cock so well. Your mouth feels amazing.”

Her lips curve into a smile around his cock and there’s a sparkle in her eyes. She’s always so happy when she gets praises and he’s not going to stop giving them. The sight almost makes him burst.

“Okay, okay, easy there tiger,” He whispers as she strokes him hard and fast while giving little pecks on the tip of his leaking head. “Come here,” His hand grips around her arm, pulling her up, kissing her hard.

“You wanna ride my cock?” He breathes into the kiss.

“Uh-huh,”

“Uh-huh? Are you even ready?” His fingers go down to her clit, rubs at it before breaching her pussy to check if she’s ready. Two fingers slip in without any problem, she’s soaked.

“Dean, please,” Y/N whines, moves her hips back and fucks down onto his fingers. “I’m ready, promise.”

He chuckles.

So needy.

“Then hop on, hold your skirt up, I wanna see,”

She grabs at the hem of her skirt, pulls it up and bunches them around her, jams it into her armpit as she slowly sits herself down onto his awaiting dick.

Dean has to bite down on his bottom lip when he feels her warmth and wetness surrounding him. “Jesus,” He pants. “Oh my god, you feel so fucking good.”

Y/N stays still for a long time, her eyes cross before her eyelids begin to flutter, a soft moan escapes her lips.

He feels her pussy clench around him, squeezing him real tight and after a couple of seconds, she starts to smile and laugh.

“Fuck, baby. Did you just come?” He looks at her with admiration as she begins to bounce up and down his length.

She’s still laughing, “Yeah.”

“Christ, I didn’t do anything!”

“Your cock just hit the right spot, don’t get ahead of yourself,” She’s breathing hard again and he spits into his fingers, brings them down to rub at her clit.

There it is, the eye crossing before the flutter of her lids. Her pussy flutters too, clamps down and grips at his cock like a vice.

He helps her ride it out, strokes her softly.

“Do you have, like, a button inside you or what is it?” He asks in disbelief. She can come easily and often but it was never that easy.

She bites her lips, grins when she hears it.

“Alright, sweetheart,” He says, “It’s my turn. Why don’t you lean forward?”

Leaning forward, they’re chest to chest and Dean keeps one arm around her waist while he pulls her even closer by the back of her neck. He kisses her hot and wantonly as he starts to move his hips, fucks up into her, his movements growing harder and faster. The sound of his wet balls slapping against her ass is loud and obscene. He has to keep on kissing her so as not to let her make too much noise. She moans into his mouth and he drinks it up, like it’s something he needs to survive, and maybe it is.

He pulls her head back a little by her hair and she’s grinning, because she’s come to love that too. Hair pulling. Another kink they found out that she likes. Likes to mix pleasure with pain and who is he to deny her something that is such a fucking turn on for him as well.

“Look at me,” He whispers, low and dark, “I want to see your eyes when I come.”

His hips still work in a wild pace, fucking up into her hard and fast, their breathing mixing as they look at each other. Dean comes so hard he sees fucking stars.

He kisses her after, holds her close as he rocks his hips lazily against her, only stops when his cock softens inside of her.

Dean couldn’t help it, laid Y/N down and ate her out right inside the limousine. That’s what she was shy about at first too, Dean licking at her sloppy and fucked out cunt, but he makes it seem so natural and doesn’t mind his own cum still dripping out of her pussy.

He made her squirt too and she doesn’t even know if the devider’s been up between them and the driver, and even if it wasn’t, she didn’t really care. He licked her clean after, though, hums his approval while doing it and Y/N still doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t know how someone can enjoy it so much. Like, he really, truly enjoys going down on her and smiles like a kid on a Christmas morning when she would let him. Dean gave the driver a generous tip, because that poor guy needs to do some serious cleaning.

They get into the elevator and Dean leans against the wall, plays with her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, not too tired.”

He raises an eyebrow in question, “You aren’t?”

“Nah, I’m in the right mindset to have more mind blowing sex.” She grins, it’s cocky, she knows, and it’s not entirely true. She’s tired but she just loves winding him up.

Dean snorts, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s really great, but I hope the sex is not with me because I’m beat.” He pulls her close by her dress, leans down a little so their noses touch, “You’re wearing me out.” Dean kisses her before they get out as the elevator signals the arrival on their floor.

They are joking around some more while Dean pulls out the key to his apartment when there’s footsteps echoing on granite flooring.

“Ah, look at the happy couple.” Cain mocks, waving around with one hand that is holding a freaking gun.

Dean’s instinct was to stand before Y/N, shielding her with his own body. His second instinct was to push at the panic button on his key chain, alerting his men. A great little device courtesy of Ash.

She doesn’t want to stay behind him though, pushes herself back to the front. “Cain, what are you doing?”

This fucking girl, seriously.

“Get out of the way Y/N. I just want to talk to your boyfriend for a minute.” Cain’s voice cracks.

Cain’s been crying, Dean can see it, the red of his eyes, his cheek, his nose.

Dean holds up his hands to let Cain see that he’s not armed and then he speaks, his voice calm and low. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously between you and me, Cain. So why don’t we let her inside. You still love her, don’t you? Do you really want to hurt her? Let her go in and we discuss the issue, whatever it is that upsets you.”

The tall man’s facade is crumbling, he’s weeping openly while he scratches his head with the barrel of a freaking gun. Somehow, Dean thinks that this won’t end well.

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Winchester. When I let her go she’ll call the police.”

“No, no.” Dean tries to calm him down, holding his hands up, fingers spread, “No police. I’m not really friends with them and she knows. You should know that, too. No police.”

Dean tries to push Y/N to the side but she stays in front of him. “Jesus Christ, baby, would you just for once do what I want you to?” He hisses through half gritted teeth.

She doesn’t even listen to Dean and takes a step closer to Cain. Dean’s so fucking close to lose his damn mind with her, “Whatever it is Cain, you can tell me too. Dean doesn’t hide anything from me. What happened?”

“What happened?” Cain laughs a laugh Dean only hears on people that are completely mad in their head. “I just got fired! Fired! Can you imagine, Y/N? It’s all because of him!” He waves his gun in Dean's face.

“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.” Dean tries to calm him down, and she tilts her head to look up at Dean to which Dean shrugs.

“What are you doing, Cain. This won’t get you your job back?” She asks Cain and takes a step closer and Dean’s not really okay with that, and walks closer to her too. If he can get his will, he’d like for her to be behind him and not wandering closer to a fucking lunatic.

Cain grins, “I figured, if I kill him, I don’t need money to change your mind of coming back to me. Am I right? You’d come back to me, don’t you, Y/N?”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen, Cain.” Her voice is incredibly calm and Dean’s really impressed.

“Well, I’m gonna kill him anyway.” Cain shrugs and then he aims.

It’s like Dean’s stuck in slow motion. There’s so many things happening at once. Not even in Afghanistan where he fought a war did he see things like he does now.

Dean sees the gun, sees Cain firing. It’s loud and the next thing he knows Y/N gets in front of him. The impact makes her hit his body before she slumps down to the floor. Her body hitting the granite with a dull thud.

“No!” Dean shouts, “No, no, no!” He crouches on the floor right next to her, his shaking hands touching her face before he inspects her wound.

She’s hit right below her right clavicle and Dean’s pressing his hands on the wound to stop the bleeding.

“Oh no,” Cain’s on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, the gun lies abandoned on the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to. I love her!”

Dean has tears in his eyes himself. “If you fucking love her, then you would fucking pull yourself together and fucking help me here! Call a fucking ambulance! Now!”

He can see how Cain lets the word sink in but instead of helping, Cain sits on the floor and lies down, rolls himself up into a fetus position.

Dean cradles Y/N’s face with one hand while his other one still presses into her wound, his hand bloody and she opens up her eyes just a little. She’s in pain, and it hurts him even more. He presses on the wound harder and there’s a painful groan coming from her throat. “Baby, I’m sorry, I know it hurts. But stay with me alright? I got you, I’m here, I got you.”

Dean tries to pull himself together, manages to jump start his brain again to fish out his phone from his pocket and call an ambulance.

When he hangs up he hears it.

“Dean!”

A familiar voice is coming up the stairs.

“Cas! Get Sergei, pull him out of his fucking bed, I don’t care!”

Sergei is Dean’s in-house doctor and thankfully lives only a floor below him. He can hear Cas turn around on his heels and fly down the staircase.

The doctor rushes up, still in only his underwear and kneels beside Dean. “I’m here, it’s okay.” He says and takes over in putting pressure on the wound. Dean stays there as he watches Sergei work on Y/N.

Cas picks up the gun from the floor and stands back, keeping Cain in check.

Dean sits back on his heels, brushes away the tears from his face with bloody hands that are shaking uncontrollably.

He can’t lose her. Not now. Not when things finally start to look up for him! He kneels there, staring at his hands. He hears sirens in the distance.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Cain’s sobbing voice brings Dean back to reality.

Brushing the tears and snot away from his face, Dean stands up and walks over to Cas, takes the gun from the man’s hand.

“Dean,” Cas says. It sounds like a warning at first but then Cas stands back, and nods at him.

And then everything goes so fast. Dean feels the familiar heaviness of a gun in his hand and launches forward, comes to stand before Cain, gun drawn to the guy’s head.

Dean’s still crying, his vision is blurred. His hand shakes.

“No, please.” Cain cries, “I’m sorry.”

Dean bristles with madness and anger. Knows that Cain is the fucking source of it.

“I love her,” Cain shouts. “I love her as much as you do!”

Brushing the tears away with the heel of his left hand, Dean speaks, “No, you don’t.” He breathes in and out. “Nobody loves her like I do.”

Dean pulls the trigger.

CH26

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

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lushjin · 5 years ago

Text

Worthwhile|

Warning/Genre: Smut, virgin Namjoon, multiple orgasms, dry humping, oral( f receiving), & good ole missionary sex.

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word count: 1,7k

Summary: Your first time with your boyfriend doesn’t go exactly as planned.

“Namjoon I hate you.” You sighed exasperatedly. You pull your shirt over your head foregoing your bra.

“I know you do, but you still love me.” Namjoon sits awkwardly on his bed watching you get dressed.

“Your parents hate me!” You whine. You keep replaying the moment they walked in over and over again. Cringing nonstop. Who the hell gives a copy of their key to their parents?

“No, they don’t. They’ll get over it I promise.” Namjoon offers. He’s pulling you next to him as he places a kiss on your temple.

“I defiled their pure son.” You say in horror.

“Ok don’t talk about me like that,” Namjoon says. He didn’t like to be spoken about like that.

“I’m sorry but that’s how they probably see it.”

“Is that how you see me?” Namjoon asks.

“No, I mean I don’t know.” You know that was definitely the wrong answer. You just didn’t know how to answer that question. Since you started dating Namjoon you knew this was a sensitive subject. You can understand why even though it never bothered you that Namjoon was a virgin. It bothered him more than it did you.

“Namjoon you know I don’t mean it like that.” You were failing at making him understand what you meant. “Namjoon it’s just the thought of defiling you is hot. It’s not bad. Please don’t see it that way.” Your hand reaching for his. Giving it a tight squeeze. You see his body relax next to you, and you offer a quick peck on the lips.

This night was not how you expected it to go. Romantic dinner, check. Cheesy romcom, check. Taking your boyfriend's virginity. That didn’t go quite as planned. Especially when his parents decided to drop by unannounced. Letting themselves in only to find you on your knees with their son’s penis in your mouth. God, you cringe at the thought. You’re going to be scarred for life.

“I get it. It’s hot but I don’t know. It makes me feel like some sort of loser or something.” Namjoon admits.

“Baby, it’s not like that. Trust me it’s a lot hotter than you think.”

Still, Namjoon doesn’t seem convinced. Tonight was a mess and you wish you could press the reset button and start over.

“Namjoon you’re the hottest, and when I say hottest I mean hottest, guy I’ve ever dated. The smartest and most sweet. Don’t let my weird fantasy of defiling you make you think any less of yourself. It’s just some stupid kink I have I guess. It doesn’t matter.

You look at Namjoon earnestly hoping that you haven’t fucked everything up.

“I guess it’s not the worst thing you could think of,” Namjoon admits.

“Yeah?”

“I mean the idea of you taking my virginity is kind of hot. In general, anything you do turns me on.”

“Really? Like what?” You pry.

“It could literally be anything y/n. Just the thought of you while I’m lying in bed alone at night gets me hard.” Namjoon admits, he looks down shyly with a nervous smile on his face. You inch closer to where he’s sat on the bed. You kiss the dimple on his cheek.

“Namjoon I want you.”

“Yeah?”

Instead of telling him how bad you decide to show him. You push Namjoon onto his back, straddling him. You’re like a starved woman. Sucking on his neck as your clothed core grinds against Namjoon’s bulge. It didn’t take long for him to get hard and that only turned you on more. God, you were so horny. You know how hard it is to date someone this hot and not actually fuck him? You were at your wits end ready to explode any minute, and you were only just getting started.

Namjoon’s hands begin to wander on your body. Touching you with no purpose at all, but just to feel you. You can’t control your hips anymore as they rut on their own accord. Chasing that feeling that comes when your clit rubs against the fabric.

“Oh Namjoon,” you mewl. Your hand now gripping onto his shirt. Finally, his hands are where you’ve been waiting for them to be. On your chest cupping your breasts. Tweaking your nipples makes you moan out even louder.

“I’m gonna cum, oh shit Namjoon,” you finally let go. Plunging into pure bliss. Even though the feeling is so good you’re not satisfied. There’s still an itch you can’t quite scratch on your own.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Namjoon growls. His pupils are completely blown out. He's left breathless at the sight of you just coming on him without him even doing much. His dick aches to be inside you. He wants to finally know what your pussy felt like. He’s only imagined it since you’ve started dating, but he won’t admit that to you.

Now it was his turn to act like a starved man. He flips you over in one swift motion, causing you to shriek in surprise. Your back hitting the soft mattress. Where was your sweet boyfriend? Clearly, he was gone because the man that was staring back at you looked like he was going to devour you. Namjoon takes his clothes off leaving himself completely bare in front of you. Your eyes wander over his body taking in the sight of your boyfriend's body. He isn’t completely hard yet, but he still looks big and thick and you can’t believe today is the day you’ll actually get to feel him inside of you.

Namjoon hovers over you, his lips meeting your lips for a sloppy kiss before ascending down your body.

“Take your shirt off I wanna see you,” he demands.

You’re quick to pull your shirt over your head tossing it aside. Namjoon’s pulling your jeans and underwear off in one go. His hands grope your chest while his mouth kisses the expanse of your stomach. He’s craving to taste you. It’s been probably a month since the last time he’s gone down on you.

Namjoon’s lips are on your bare mound now. He licks with precision like he always does. For being a virgin that boy definitely has a way with his tongue. The first time he ate you were shocked at just how good he was. Your wetness pools making it easy for him to slip his fingers in. While his fingers fuck you his lips wrap around your swollen clit. The sensation causes you to gasp out loud. Your back arching off the bed hands clutching the sheets until your knuckles turn white.

Namjoon’s pre-cum stains the sheets as he shamelessly moves his hips seeking friction from the soft cotton sheets. The way you sound makes him go crazy. The amount of pre-cum that drips out is more than usual. Reluctantly he stops moving his hips because blowing his load on his sheets when he finally gets to do it in your pussy would be such a waste.

Everything becomes too much the way his fingers curl inside of you and the way his lips suck on your clit. You’re reaching your second climax of the night quickly. Your moans pick up and you can’t help as they get louder and louder. The sensation between your thighs building up. Blood rushes to your core. You’re seconds away from cumming again. The pressure builds up and then it finally releases.

“Namjoon!” You yell and you’re pretty sure the neighbors heard that one. You release your grip of the sheets and your hands entangle in your boyfriend’s locks. Tugging on them, riding out your high as your hips rut against his face.

Once he’s had enough, Namjoon pulls away panting, your juices covering his lips. What a sight for sore eyes. Your boyfriend in between your legs looking like a full course meal.

“Namjoon,” you whine. Tonight you were insatiable and all you wanted was your boyfriend's fat cock inside of you. “Fuck me already.” You beg. “Take me however you want me.” You breathe. Now it was time for Namjoon to feel good.

Namjoon sits back on his heels as he strokes his cock. He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes as you take your pointer and your middle finger, spreading your pussy wide for him to see. It’s so soft and pink, glistening with your juices.

He can’t wait a second longer. He aligns the engored pink tip in your tight hole. Watching intently as you slowly suck him in. God this was the best feeling ever he thought. Being engulfed by your warm velvet walls. For a few seconds, he forgets to breathe. Once he’s halfway in he has to stops, your pussy is too overwhelming for him. It’s better than any shit he’s ever dreamed about.

“Baby,” he whines and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Feel good?” You ask sweetly, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. Namjoon only responds with a quick nod before pressing his forehead against yours.

Finally, he bottoms out and he sighs in relief. He waits a few seconds before testing out the waters with a slow grind. Soon though he gets greedy, his hips start to move faster. Addicted to the way your walls rub his dick. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, tongues intertwining. Namjoon grabs your hand putting them above your head as he interlocks his fingers with yours.

Your bodies are flushed together as he grinds against you. Picking up his momentum when he feels you clench around him. Your hips jerk wildly meeting his every thrust. Namjoon gets a little overzealous and thrusts particularly hard. Causing you to feel him right at your g-spot.

“Oh my God!” You yelp. Your toes curl and your muscles tense. Your body completely unprepared for the shock of pleasure it just felt.

“You like that baby?” Namjoon realizes that he’s found your sweet spot. His hips working in overdrive to keep hitting that spot. He’s enthralled with your reactions. He’s never seen you this fucked out before. He can’t even describe the way you feel right now. Wet and tight, your walls uncontrollably spazzing around him. He can feel his end nearing too, he’s just teetering over the edge.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You chant your orgasm bursting through your body. Along with a gush of your juices flowing out. Pushing your boyfriend’s dick right out of you, as you soak his pubic area and the sheets. Namjoon is in awe of the sight in front of him. He watches as you come undone he’s in almost shock at how hot the scene before him is. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you cum like this before. This only intensifies his need to cum. The feeling is so intense that he quickly pushes back inside of your sopping pussy.

“Fuck I’m so in love you,” Namjoon groans into your ear before kissing your neck. He buries his face into the crook of your neck. Just moments away from cumming. His hips move quickly and sloppily chasing his climax. Just then his hips still and his cock twitches. Ropes of cum decorate your insides. He thrusts one last time milking every last bit of his orgasm until he’s too sensitive.

“I love you,” you breathe. Wrapping your arms around Namjoon’s neck holding him close to you.

You’re both a panting mess once you come down from your highs. Nothing but making out in your post-orgasm glow. It’s gross just how in love you two are. Namjoon being the true gentleman he is, he cleans you off before getting back into bed and cuddling you to sleep.

#bts smut #bts #namjoon smut #bts scenarios #bts fluff #namjoon #lushjin writes #ksmutclub

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peachy-beomie · 4 years ago

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Holding You In My Heart (Until I Can Hold You In My Arms) <KUNTEN>

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Kunten (Qian Kun x Ten Lee)

Word Count: 1,643

Warnings: None!

Synopsis: COVID AU in which Kun sets up a bunch of cute zoom dates for him and his boyfriend.

A/N: I got bored and I really want to start working on my masterlist so I decided to post this :D

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410125

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Join Zoom Meeting

{zoom link}

I stare quizzically at the email that pops up on my screen, interrupting my FRIENDS marathon. The message comes from none other than my boyfriend Kun, who’s been spending all of quarantine so far looking for ways for us to go on dates.

When COVID hit, Kun and I were forced to confine ourselves in our respective apartments, limiting contact. It hasn’t been too hard thus far, we call and text everyday without fail. Simple good mornings and silly pictures of my cat sufficed for the first month or so. But as the quarantine dragged on, I began missing Kun’s face more and more. We hadn’t been on a proper date in god knows how long, and it was starting to impact my mental health.

Curiosity consumes me as I click the link, awaiting whatever dorky plot Kun had conjured up. Within seconds his lopsided grin filled my screen and drew a small smile from my lips.

“Hi Sunshine!” He greets cheerfully, the familiar pet name bringing warmth to my cheeks.

“Heya baby, what’s this about?”

“Nothing, just missed you.” Kun’s tone has a hint of mischief that doesn’t go unnoticed by me. But playing along with Kun is way more fun than interrogating him.

“Mmm not as much as I missed you. You sure there’s no special reason for this?” I can see Kun’s eyes sparkling despite the low quality graphics.

“Weeeeellllllll I suppose I did want to ask if you’d want to go on a date?”

“A date? How would we do that?”

“Like this!” Kun gestures eagerly at the screen. “Through zoom! I found all kinds of fun things we can do.”

“And when would we do this?”

“I mean I’m free now…” Kun suggests, eliciting a giggle from me. Sometimes Kun’s cuteness is unbelievable.

“That works for me. What’d you have in mind baby?” Kun’s eyes sparkle mischievously.

“Wanna get your ass whooped at Mario Kart?”

“In your d r e a m s Qian.”

⏳

After that initial date, zoom dates with Kun became a frequent occurance. Kun wasn’t kidding when he said he had a lot of ideas. He set up so many dates ranging from movie nights (“You know he comes back in the next movie right?” “TOM HOLLAND IS TOO HOT TO DIE KUN.”) to a talent show consisting mostly of magic and Louis ignoring my attempts to make him do tricks. I began to look forward to each and every one of the meetings. Especially if it’s my turn to plan the date (“It’s more fun playing Just Dance against you cause you’re uncoordinated and I always win.” “Shut up.”). Dates with Kun made quarantine far more tolerable, though I still missed cuddling with Kun. The teddy bear he sent me as a replacement was a kind gesture though.

I hold it close as I watch Kun struggle to repeat the steps I taught him. A small chuckle escapes my lips, and Kun immediately turns to me with a pout.

“Don’t laugh, I think I’m doing alright.”

“Oh yeah at this pace you’ll be in level 2 hiphop in no time,” I joke, only laughing harder at the huff Kun lets out. “I wasn’t laughing at you darling, just thinking about how much I love you.” The older boy looks slightly stunned by my confession but he’s beaming from ear to ear within seconds.

“I love you too Sunshine.”

***

“It’s way too salty.”

“I told you the recipe didn’t call for a cup of salt but you wouldn’t listen!!!” I giggle at my exasperated boyfriend before putting the failed noodle dish in the sink.

“Maybe I should hire a better teacher.”

“Good luck finding someone else who’ll tolerate your bullshit like I do,” We both chuckle at that. “Are you available for another date Friday night?”

I pretend to think it over before shrugging, “I suppose I can fit you into my schedule.” Kun glares cutely at me through the screen. “What do you have planned?”

“It’s a surprise.” Kun wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis.

“Sounds mysterious.”

“Well if I recall correctly you love suspense,” Kun muses, “You in?”

“Of course.”

Kun tries to keep up his mysterious demeanor, but the way he visibly lights up at my confirmation is impossible to miss.

“Then I’ll see you in 3 days sunshine.” And with a final wink, he ends the meeting.

Cheeky fucker.

⏳

Finding the patience to wait for Kun’s surprise proved quite challenging. I couldn’t help but mull over what on earth the older man had planned. The existence of the mystery lifted my previously sour mood, but I couldn’t for the life of me solve for x while Kun’s gleeful words raced through my head.

After nearly an hour of staring at the same math question, I decide planning my outfit would be a better use of my time. Considering I have no idea what Kun is planning, I try to pick an outfit that’s casual but also pretty. I didn’t want to overdo it (it’s only a zoom date after all) but I also wanted Kun to know I tried. I tear my closet apart for about 20 minutes before settling on my favorite white tee and jeans. I also opt to do a little makeup, knowing Kun would appreciate it. Showering, makeup, and hair take up the rest of my time and before I know it, it’s time for our zoom date.

It appears I wasn’t the only one looking forward to the date because even though I logged on a whole 5 minutes early, Kun was already waiting to admit me.

“Someone’s excited.” I tease, proud of the light pink that dusts kun’s cheeks

“I’m the host, what’s your excuse?” He chuckles lightly. “You look gorgeous Sunshine.”

“Not so bad yourself,” my teasing tone barely disguises the obvious want in my voice. Cause Kun. Looks. Adorable. It’s not that he’s dressed up, not at all actually. He’s dressed somewhat similarly to me, drowning in a plain collared long sleeve. The sleeves are long enough to cover his hands, giving him sweater paws that make him appear not only soft, but tiny. His chocolate brown hair is mussed up, only adding to the overall image. To top it all off, he seems to be wearing a little bit of lip balm. I have never wanted to kiss someone so bad in my entire life.

“You frozen there lovebug?” Kun’s amused comment breaks me out of my stupor.

“Nope, just enjoying the view,” I wink nonchalantly once again relishing in the blush rising up Kun’s neck. “So what’s your plan?”

“You should be finding out in about…” He checks his watch dramatically, “5 minutes.” I could only giggle in response as I watched my boyfriend, eyes gleaming with mischief. As I may have mentioned previously: Kun is a dork. He enjoys setting up dates a lot (maybe a bit too much). He likes to come up with weird creative ideas for us to try. It’s one of the things I love most about him. And the way his gaze is flitting every which way and his legs are bouncing all over the place is a clear sign that he’s extremely proud of whatever he’s planned.

A few minutes of mindless chitchat later, I hear the doorbell ring. I give Kun a knowing look as he pretends not to know what’s going on. I open the door to see two boxes of take out from my favorite restaurant. I turn to Kun on the screen.

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did sunshine.”

As I open the delicious smelling box I see that he’d gotten my favorite dish as well. He’d remembered every detail of it. A few tears escape my eyes against my will. Kun seems confused and concerned by my reaction, his beautiful features melting into a frown.

“Did I get something wrong? I swear I checked like 8 times to make sure I just--”

“No Kun it’s perfect,” I smile wetly. “You got everything right baby, I’m just really lucky to have you.” Kun nods understandingly grinning to reveal his dimple, and all of a sudden I’m hit with a wave of sadness and longing. I want nothing more than to be there with Kun, to caress his cheeks and bury my head in his chest and kiss the freckle under his brow that I love so much. I’m hit all at once with the realization that I miss being with Kun, and suddenly the tears are streaming down my cheeks. Kun stays silent, patient as always and it only makes me want to cry more.

“I miss you so fucking much,” I whisper between sobs. My vision is far too blurry to see how Kun is reacting to my outburst. “I hate this stupid quarantine, and the stupid virus, and stupid zoom. I just w-want to hug you so bad kunkun.” My voice breaks at the end of my sobs.

“Aw baby, I know. Any time we do these dates I can’t help but miss everything about you. You mean so much to me and not being able to see you has been torture. But don’t worry too much Sunshine. This is not permanent. I’m confident we’ll be able to see each other again.” Kun’s eyes are practically pouring out affection and genuineness.

“I’m sorry for ruining the date.”

“If you don’t hush right now I’m going to find a way to Zoom slap you,” Kun teased. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for and you haven’t ruined anything. We can just eat and watch a movie together yeah?”

There on my couch, as I lost count of the hours going by with Kun’s voice in my ears: I realized that despite the unideal situation, we’d be okay.

KUNTEN PIC OF THE DAY:

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wooziscollarbones · 4 years ago

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Diamond Supernova; Pt 1

in which hansol learns that mingyu’s ideas are stupid

Pairing: Vernon/S.Coups/Woozi Rating: PG-13/NC-17 Length: Multichapter Warnings: Language Part: One/? Stars shine brightest right before they explode.In which S.Coups is a pretty popular undergound rapper and Hansol learns that your idols aren’t always what you expect. Through the whirlwind of misadventures that come with being a part of S.Coup’s entourage, Hansol only knows one constant: S.Coup’s producer and best friend, Woozi. AO3 Version Pro | Pt 1 |

Hansol is dumb. He’s not stupid, he’s actually pretty intelligent when it comes to learning new things and skills, he even speaks two languages fluently. But when it comes to the basic knowledge of self-preservation that’s supposed to keep him out of sketchy situations: Hansol is really really dumb. Which is why he’s currently being jostled through a crowd of bodies that reek of alcohol and smoke and too much perfume as Mingyu leads them to the employee’s only section of a sketchy nightclub downtown that didn’t even ID them as they walked in.

The security standing by the door smiles as they approach, pulling Mingyu into a friendly half-hug and letting them pass by. Hansol’s ears are ringing from the sudden change in volume when the door shuts behind them. The hallway they’re in is short, the door to their left giant and metal, most likely leading to a walk in cooler, whereas the two on their right are a dark wood similar to the door they came in. Mingyu takes the steps to the second door and stops before turning to meet Hansol’s eyes.

“Listen, I’ve known these guys for a while and I’ve gotta warn you, Coups is a little wild, but he’s cool. Wonwoo is quiet, but I promise he doesn’t hate you, he just doesn’t know how to talk to people. But Woozi...” The elder’s hands come up to rest on Hansol’s shoulders and squeeze lightly. “Woozi is the devil. I’m warning you now, at the smallest sign of weakness that demon man will jump under your skin and make you regret every minor sin you’ve ever committed in your entire life. He’s gonna be the one to open the door, I guarantee it, just remember what I’ve told you.”

Hansol gulps, regretting every decision he’s made that led him to this point and once again curses the lack of self-preservation instincts that left him too dumb to run the second Mingyu looked at him with that Cheshire cat grin at the bus stop.

Mingyu goes to knock and he almost reaches up to grab Mingyu’s arm, to tell him that he changed his mind and he doesn’t want to meet S.Coups, but he’s not fast enough and too soon Mingyu’s knuckles are rapping against the wood and the door is swinging open.

The man in the doorway isn’t what Hansol was expecting. The way Mingyu had described him has Hansol picturing a dragon in human form, towering over him and ready to breathe fire at him just for existing. He is absolutely not expecting to be looking down at a man with shaggy blond hair and dimples in his cheeks when he smirks up at Mingyu, wearing a black sweatshirt that looks at least two sizes too big for him.

He’s pretty, Hansol thinks briefly. Really pretty actually, with sharp eyes lined in kohl, full lips blotted red in the center, and a black lace choker resting against his adam’s apple.

“Hansol, this is the one I was telling you about, Lee Jihoon, AKA Woozi,” Mingyu says by way of introduction.

Jihoon barely glances in his direction, instead pinning his eyes firmly on Mingyu, and when he speaks his voice is light and airy but sends a shiver down Hansol’s spine because nevermind this guy actually is scary. “Mingyu, why are you always here? You’re like a stain on my favorite t-shirt that I just can’t seem to get out.” The venom in his voice doesn’t match the almost serene smile on the man’s face and Hansol is convinced that he must be insane.

“Ah, Jihoon hyung, I’m on your favorite t-shirt? Not just any shirt, but your favorite?”

Jihoon looks like he might actually swing on Mingyu for a full ten seconds before he laughs finally and all of the tension leaves Hansol’s body. “Get your ass in here, Gyu.”

The room they enter is most likely the employee break room, judging by the row of metal lockers on the wall closest to them and the mini-fridge set up at the end of them. There’s a small coffee table with a laptop and two faded couches, one of which has a red haired man in a sleeveless black top and jeans sitting on it.

Jihoon plops down on the unoccupied couch next to the door, pulling the coffee table closer to him and immediately clacking away at the laptop keys.

“I thought you weren’t gonna show tonight,” the other man says as Mingyu falls into the spot beside him.

Mingyu grins at him, throwing an arm out over his shoulders. “Ahh come on Won, when was the last time I missed one of your shows?” Hansol doesn’t hear what the other man replies, only sees the corners of his mouth quirk up as he leans in to speak quietly into Mingyu’s ear. Mingyu catches his eye and sits up a little straighter. “Oh, Hansol, this is Jeon Wonwoo, AKA Mr. Beanie.”

“Nice to meet you.” Wonwoo gives him a small smile and a wave before returning his attention to Mingyu, leaving Hansol to fidget awkwardly next to the couch where Jihoon sits.

He leans over a bit to peak at the screen after a few minutes, seeing a word document open on one-half of the screen and an audio program open on the other.

“Hey kid, if you’re gonna be nosey, at least grab me a soda and sit down so you’re not hovering over me while I’m trying to work.”

Jihoon’s voice startles him and Hansol can feel the tips of his ears heating as he nods. The mini-fridge has a few water bottles and a couple of Cokes. He takes one and makes his way over to the couch, setting the soda down on the table and taking a seat as far away from Jihoon as he can on the small sofa.

“What are you doing?” Hansol ask quietly, watching as Jihoon’s rearranges files on the audio window before clicking back over to edit the word doc.

Jihoon’s fingers never stop as he replies. “Working on a guide track for a song I wrote.”

Hansol can’t keep the awe out of his voice as he leans a little closer to the laptop. “You write music? That’s so cool.”

Jihoon pauses and looks at the younger man. He looks like he’s about to say something when the door to the room bursts open, slamming back into the door frame with a bang loud enough to make Hansol jump in his seat.

“Mother fucker.”

Everyone looks at the doorway where a very pissed off looking S.Coups is standing, running a hand through his dark locks and groaning.

“What’s up, Cheol?” Jihoon says as he and Wonwoo stand.

“The fucker doesn’t wanna pay us what he said he would. Fucker’s like ‘Oh there aren’t as many people as we were expecting so how about we drop it down two hundred.’”

“What does he mean there aren’t as many people as we were expecting? This place hasn’t been this packed in weeks.” Jihoon’s arms are crossed over his chest and his jaw is visibly clenched. He looks pissed and for a second Hansol can imagine why Mingyu said Jihoon was scary because he can definitely imagine the blond throttling someone with the look in his eyes.

“I’m tempted to tell him to go fuck himself and dip; this shit is ridiculous.” Seungcheol walks over to the fridge and pops open a water bottle, downing half of its contents before he finally seems to notice the two other people in the room. “Who’s the kid?”

Hansol goes to introduce himself only to be cut off by Jihoon. “You can’t not do the show now, Cheol. It’s bad business for the people that you guys did bring out tonight.”

“I know that, fuck, but this shit is still annoying as fuck.” Seungcheol sighs, having apparently completely forgotten about Hansol once more as he makes his way back towards the door. “I’m gonna go take a piss and get a beer before we start. I’ll see y’all out there.”

Hansol sinks further into the couch as the door shuts behind Seungcheol and Jihoon comes back over to grab his laptop. “We better head out too, Wonwoo. I’ve still gotta get set up at the booth before you guys go on.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Wonwoo stretches his arms over his head before turning to Mingyu. “You coming over after the show, Gyu?”

Mingyu grins. “Of course. Break a leg out there.”

Wonwoo is the first to leave. Mingyu follows after him as Hansol stands and Jihoon packs his laptop into a messenger bag he’d had laid next to the couch.

He feels like he should say something as he heads for the door, but he’s just so awkward and Jihoon doesn’t seem like the friendliest person in the world, so he just settles for stumbling over a ‘nice to meet you’ as he opens the door.

The door closes on Jihoon’s quiet “See ya, kid.”

#caratwritersclub #caratrevival #seventeen #scoups #vernon #woozi #ot3 #gonna tag the carat revival since it's coups week now and coups barely even shows up in this chapter when he is literally the main character #but so far i already know he's gonna be so much fun to write lol #jihoon #hansol #seungcheol #jicheol #hoonsol #coupsol #jicheolsol #my writing #diamond #eventually i'll remember how to write again and stop hating everything i write otl

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give-seconds · 5 years ago

Text

I Loved You

Only warning is that Jeno feels really bad about himself and being gay. This doesn't count as a warning, but I feel like this is my longest chapter. You have been warned!!

---Part IV

As soon as you close the door, Jeno feels the breath leave his body once again. That’s it, you’re gone. You left him alone in your apartment, you left him to suffocate in all the memories.

He feels so alone, but he knows he deserves it. He should be spending the night alone, to pay for what he did to you. He knows this, but he can’t stop himself from pulling out his phone.

“Jeno?”

“Hyung,” Jeno flinches as voice cracks.

“Jeno what’s wrong?” his brother's voice is panicked, and Jeno suddenly remembers all the pranks he’s pulled on his brother. The same kind of worry had laced his voice then too.

“Hyung I messed up and now y/n’s gone. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you come get me? I can’t be here alone.”

“Of course I can, I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Thank you Jaehyun-Hyung, I know how busy you are.”

He can hear the smile in his hyungs voice, along with the sound of doors opening. “Jeno, I’m a good Hyung. Of course I’m coming for you.”

“Thank you Hyung,” Jeno bites his lip, he can feel his tears falling faster.

“Jeno I’ll be there soon okay I-“ his hyungs voice is cut off, being replaced by his wife.

“Jeno sweetie do you want me to make you anything?”

Jeno cracks a smile at his brother's wife, she treats Jeno like a son rather than a brother-in-law. It makes him feel warm inside “I’m okay, thank you though Noona.”

“Give me back my phone,” he hears as his Hyung grabs his phone back with a final ‘I love you little dude’ from Moonhee. “Anyways, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in 10 okay?”

“Thank you so much.”

There’s a beat of silence as Jaehyun slips on his shoes and out the door “Jeno I don’t know what happened, but do you wanna talk?”

Jeno takes a loud, quick breath as he tries to calm down “Hyung I couldn’t do it to her anymore. I’ve been lying to her for weeks, she didn’t deserve that. But that’s what I did, and it’s disgusting. I’m disgusting.”

“Did you cheat on her,” Jaehyun's tone is hesitant, trying to be as nicely direct as possible.

Jeno squeezes his eyes shut “No Hyung, it’s worse. I can’t love her, I don’t think I’ve ever loved her as more than a friend.”

“And that’s okay, that’s not your fault.”

“But it is, it is because I didn’t cut her off. I let her go on planning our wedding for weeks, two of which I knew I didn’t love her. You don’t do that to a person, you don’t do that to someone you value.”

“Hold on a second Jeno, let me connect my phone to the car,” Jaehyun says as he opens the car door, settling into the driver's seat.

Jeno hears the beeping of the car starting before his brother’s voice comes back “It isn’t your fault if you don’t love her, you did the right thing by telling her you didn’t.”

“Hyung I- I have to tell you something and you have to promise me you won’t treat me any differently. I’ve already lost y/n, I can’t lose you.”

“There’s nothing you can say that would make me leave you Je, you’re my brother. I need you just as much as you need me.”

“I haven’t told mom or dad yet, and the only people who know are y/n and Jaemin. She’s probably told YangYang too, Hyung they must hate me by now. I wish I was better, I wish-”

“Jeno breathe, it’ll all be okay. Tell me what’s wrong, and I can help you make it better,” his brother interrupts, and Jeno focuses on the turn signal of the car to help him think.

“Hyung you haven’t been listening have you? There is no fix to this, I messed up. I never should have asked her to marry me, and you want to know why? Because I don’t love her like that, I love her brother.” He laughs, a hollow kind of laugh “Messed up right? I dated her for three years before I realized it was her brother I like, not her.”

Jeno sighs, running a hand through his hair. The idea that his brother might see him how he sees himself is enough to send him spiraling into a deeper hole.

“I know Hyung, I’m disgusting. I played her, I led her on for three years. How could someone do that to someone who loves them? I don’t deserve her love, not after what I did to her. I’m an awful human-”

“Jeno,” his brother states sternly, “stop it. I am not going to listen to you drag yourself down like this. You matter to me, and just because you’re not going to marry y/n -hell just because you don’t fancy y/n’s gender- that isn’t going to change that. I’m pulling up on your street soon, so get your butt outside so we can continue this conversation in person.”

Jeno nods his head, and mumbles a quiet ‘thank you’ before hanging up. He looks around the kitchen, eyes hazed with tears. He shakes his hair with his hand, he needs to focus. Sighing, he grabs his wallet and keys before walking away from the all too silent apartment.

The first thing he notices when he gets outside is the dark. He smiles slightly as he can’t help but wonder how you’re doing with walking the distance to YangYangs. The second thing he notices is the cold. He hasn’t been out this late in awhile, it feels wrong.

He closes his eyes, wishing everything would just stop so he can think. He tilts his head back, and stares into the endless black sky. His tears have mostly dried, so now he probably just looks like a mess. I hope you made it there safe y/n, I’m sorry you have to walk this late at night.

“JJ my man, get in.”

Jeno smiles, bringing his head to look straight ahead. His gaze lands on his brother's dimpled smile, the passenger side window rolled down. He walks towards the car, taking his hands out of his pockets to open the door. “Thanks for getting me, it was too much there. Too suffocating all alone.”

“Of course Jeno,” there’s a silence as Jeno buckles in and Jaehyun looks over his shoulder before continuing down the road. “Want to finish our talk?”

Jeno sighs and looks out the window “No, but I will.”

Jaehyun nods his head “Good, now as I was saying. Just because your heart decided that y/n isn’t your happy ending doesn’t mean you’re the villain. You’re a good man Jeno.”

Jeno leans his head against the window, tears starting to re-form “Hyung I’m not a good man. I like-”

“You like her brother, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Sure, if you were to try and pursue a relationship with him right now things might get a bit messy. But if you wait it out, maybe you’ll get to have something with him.”

“I can’t do that to y/n, I already screwed her family up. YangYang probably hates me, not to mention her parents once they find out the wedding is canceled because her stupid fiancé can’t keep his feeling straight,” he laughs slightly “no pun intended.”

“Jeno, here is what I think some of the issue is. I think you’re having a hard time accepting that you’re gay.” and as if to prove his point, Jeno inwardly recoilless. “And I think we need to fix that before we can even think about y/n and her family.”

“I have no problem with gay, my best friend is gay. But I shouldn’t be, this isn’t how my life is supposed to be. And I decided to only realize it now, three years after asking out my best friend's sister.”

“Jeno are you listening to yourself? You’re putting yourself into a different category, you’re telling yourself you don’t deserve to be forgiven. And you do, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could be forgiven. If you really didn’t care about y/n, you would’ve cheated on her. But you didn’t, you took the hard way out and told her how you feel.”

Jeno, for the first time today, feels the slightest bit of hope. That maybe everything will be okay for him, that he can work through this. His Hyung is a good man, so if he thinks Jeno is worth forgiving then he must be worth something right?

“Thank you Hyung,” he whispers.

Jaehyun simply nods his head in acknowledgment, he has said his piece and he just hopes his brother trusts him enough to believe in what he says.

As his brother stops at the last light before his apartment, Jeno looks out the window and sees a couple walking hand in hand. Jeno feels his heart lurch as he realizes that it’s you and YangYang. YangYang is swinging your linked hands, and you have your eyes closed. He can’t see the tears on your cheeks, or even if they’re still there.

Yeah, he thinks leaning against the window, watching as you both get further behind as the car starts to move again. You’ll be okay, I’m not that important anyway.

When your alarm rings, you feel your body tense with a sense of panic. Where am I? Whose room is this? But when your eyes focus on some Japanese characters and you realize you’re on Jeno’s side of the bed, you shrink into yourself.

“Morning Joe.”

“The heck you get Joe from you lamb skewer?” you exclaim, dramatically flopping onto your other side.

You smile slightly as watch his wide smile spread across his face paired, with his bubbly laughter “Someone’s being dramatic this morning.”

“Cease to exist.”

He scoffs “It was your alarm that woke me up, I should be saying that to you.”

You roll your eyes, groaning as you get up “You know it isn’t my fault I didn’t want to spend all day with you and Jaemin in a confined space. There would be too much stupidity for me to handle.”

You hear him sit up, clicking his tongue as he watches you pick up your bag.

“Are you sure that you’re okay to go to work? I think they would understand if you need a day to think. And I know for a good fact Jaemin would give me the day off, we could have a bonding day.”

You look down, shifting from foot to foot “I’ll be okay Yang, I need something to keep me busy. I can’t sit here and think, I’ll go crazy.”

He nods his head “Okay, but if it gets too much just call me yeah? I’ll ditch Jaemin so fast he won’t know what left him.”

You snort and turn to leave the room “You make no sense.”

You open the door, nearly having a heart attack as you almost hit Jisung as he’s walking out of the bathroom.

He jumps slightly before smiling “Good morning Noona, sleep well?”

You nod your head “Yep! I’m sorry we fell asleep before you guys got here.”

He shakes his head “It’s okay, Hyung and I were able to find the room and this morning I found the bathroom. I think Hyung’s still asleep in your brother’s room, so… there’s all that stuff.”

“Here,” you reach forward and grab his wrist, pulling him into the room you just came from.

You sigh when you see your brother burrito rolled in the blankets. “Yang, get your butt up and introduce yourself to Jisung.”

You and Jisung laugh, watching as YangYang struggles to untangle himself. He only manages to freeing himself by rolling off the bed, after which he bounces up onto his feet with a wide grin, fluffing his hair.

“I do that every day and it always looks about like that, I swear Yuta Hyung is going to end me one of these days for all the morning thud,” he bows “Hi Jisung, I’m YangYang.”

“Thank you for letting me and Ten-Hyung stay here with y/n,” Jisung replies, bowing back.

“Of course, my home is y/n’s home. And-” YangYang tilts his head, looking up to his left before shaking his head. He smiles awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck “sorry, I don’t know how to word it. My Korean isn’t that good yet.”

“Well, I picked a good time to go get ready. Yang, you better be a good host if not I’ll ground you,” and before you can hear a response, you slip out of the room and into the bathroom.

Setting the bag down on the floor, you pull out your light blue sweater and black jeans. You push aside the shower curtain, expecting to see the soap you use to wash your face. You nod your head, closing the curtain as you realize all of your stuff is at your flat. Mental note #1, go get some more stuff. At least it’ll be easier to tuck in a sweater without wet hands.

“Hey Yang,” you say quickly, stuffing your old clothes into the bag and sticking your head into Yuta’s room “I’m going to throw this in your room. I have to go and I’m sure Yuta-Oppa won’t want to see my stuff around his room if he comes back.” Again, you don’t wait for your brother's response before closing the door. You walk down the hall to your brother’s room, open the door, and throw your bag onto the bed without looking.

As soon as the bag leaves your hand, however, you see that there is a lump on the bed. And as said lump flinches as the bag makes contact, you realize that that particular lump is your friend.

You laugh as Ten shoots up, eyes sleepily glaring at you “I don’t know why you did that, but I will never forgive you for it.”

“You’re fine, think of it as your accidental alarm.”

Ten groans, flopping back onto the bed “I don’t have court until ten today, I wanted to sleep in.”

You shrug your shoulders “Sucks to be you I guess. But I have to go, I didn’t know you had court today so if you don’t like what I packed, you can go back to the flat and grab something else. I’ll leave my key on the table.”

Ten grumbles some kind of reply as you pull the door closed behind you. As you walk back down the hallway, you suppress the urge to scream. You force yourself to smile as you keep walking; you left your bag at the flat.

“All right you guys” you yell as you slip on your shoes “I’m heading out now. I’ll make a chat so you guys can come up with a plan on what you want for dinner. Yang, if Yuta-Oppa is coming home today, tell me. I’ll use my superior vote to decide which Japanese dish to make as my thank you.”

Once you hear YangYang yell back an okay, you nod your head. Just as you open the door, you hear Jisung run down the hallway. “Noona wait! You left my school bag at the other flat. Can we go get it?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry Ji, I only grabbed clothes. I wasn’t thinking very clearly,” you apologize, holding the door open for him as he put on his shoes.

He smiles down at you as he hops out the door, pulling on his shoe “It’s okay, I’ve done that too.”

“We should hurry though, I have to get to work and you have to get to school,” you suggest, quickly walking down the hall to the elevator.

“Yeah, of course. If you want I can just go myself and you can go to work.”

You shake your head and press the down button for the elevator “I have to go back anyways, I left my work bag there too. I wasn’t in my right mind when I left the flat.”

Just as Jisung is going to reply, the elevator dings open. You both walk silently in, the people already there moving to the back. You look around the elevator, trying not to meet anyone's eyes. You have always hated elevators, something about quietly standing in a small metal box with strangers makes you uncomfortable. It’s why when you and Jaemin went flat shopping, you insisted that you had to live on the first floor. And after much teasing, Jaemin had given in. After all, he is the last person to stand between you and feeling comfortable.

The elevator dings open again, this time everyone files out quietly.

“Noona?” Jisung shyly asks, holding the door open for you before falling into step next to you.

“Yeah?”

“I uh, I don’t know what happened between you and Jeno-Hyung but I hope it wasn’t because of me. But I am not worth your marriage, you can ask Taeil-Hyung to relocate me if that will make it better.”

You take a sharp breath in, you weren’t expecting that. And of course with the question, comes the pain you have been avoiding all day.

“No Jisung, not at all,” you mumble, eyes stinging slightly. I will not cry before work, I am better than this.

“Oh, okay. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping.”

“Also, even if that was the issue between me and him you would so be worth it. Jeno used to take in stray cats when we were at university, almost got caught too,” you smile sadly at the memory. You remember that day, he had texted you saying he almost had a heart attack because his allergies decided to act up just as the dorm check was almost over. Luckily for him, the dorm adviser simply muttered a bless you before moving onto the next room.

You force a cough to hide the bitter laugh that leaves your throat, looking the opposite direction of Jisung. God, why are you doing this to yourself? He didn’t ask about Jeno, you decided to bring him up. You can’t go back to those days, back to the days he forced himself to love you.

“One more thing, and then I’ll quit talking. But do you want me to go in for you? I don’t know if you want to not see him or what,” he offers awkwardly.

You smile softly “No, it’s okay Ji. You don’t know where my bag is and on the off chance Jeno is still asleep, I’m sure he doesn’t want to wake up to some random kid in his room.”

“Okay Noona.”

You hadn’t thought about that, what are you going to do when you see Jeno? The memories of what happened are almost enough to make you cry, so how will you hold up upon seeing the real deal?

You glance over to the boy next to you, the feeling of expectations settling in. The expectation to be better than his other foster families, the expectation Ten and Jisung must have for you to tell them what happened, the expectation to give Jeno some kind of an answer.

You shake your head, now isn’t the time to be uselessly stressing yourself. You need to focus on getting through the day so when you get back to YangYang’s, you’re actually able to think about the situation.

“Hey Jisung, you should tell me about yourself. I mean I obviously know your past, but I don’t know you that much,” you say to break your thoughts. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Get your mind off Jeno and learn about Jisung.

“Only if later you tell me about you.”

“You got yourself a deal kid.”

“Well, I think the most interesting thing about me that you don’t know is my friend Chenle. He’s this loud kid from China whose Korean seems to get better once he’s arguing. But he’s from this rich family, so the first time I went over to his house I was very surprised to say the least. But I don’t know how much of that comes from me being a foster kid and him having an actual big house.”

You snort as he pauses to take a deep breath “You sound like his number one fan.”

He sighs and playfully hits your arm “You asked about me, and this is me fulfilling your wish. It’s not my fault that the idiot takes up three-fifths of my life.”

“Three-fifths? That’s a strange fraction.”

“Chenle is cool and all, but he isn’t special enough to take up 3 fourths of my life.”

“To tell or not to tell, that is the question.”

You and Jisung jump slightly at the deep voice that comes from behind you.

“My fine Yongbok, you gave me a startle,” Jisung says, turning his head to look at the kid who is now walking next to Jisung.

“Not my fault I’m a God at sneaking, now,” the boy reaches his arm over Jisung towards you “I’m Felix, Jisung’s classmate. You can call me Yongbok if you’re more comfortable with Korean names.”

“You speak English?” you ask, shaking his hand.

Felix smiles brightly, bringing his hand back to hold the straps of his backpack “Yep! I’m a native to Australia.”

You smile at how young the boy looks holding his bag like that “I’m y/n, native to England.”

“And now,” Jisung says clapping his hands “all the introductions are done, so we should switch back to Korean so that the best person here isn’t as lost.”

“I don’t know, I think Felix understands English pretty well considering he speaks it.”

Felix laughs, quickly walking to your side and linking arms with you “I like y/n, she’s funny.”

“She’s not funny once you get to know her, she’s mean. You hear that Noona? You’re mean and I don’t like you.”

“Well if that’s the case, I’ll leave right now and you’ll have to suffer the school day without your bag.”

“You need your bag too, you wouldn’t hurt yourself to hurt me,” he states confidently.

“You don’t know how petty I can be Park.”

“Okay, hold up,” Felix says, unlinking your arms. You pretend not to notice the smirk he sends to Jisung. “Why is Jisung’s bag at your house? Does the all-mighty Jisung have a tutor?”

You snort, “No, I’m his parental figure.”

Felix tilts his head “Parental figure?”

“Parental figure,” you repeat in English for the boy.

“Ah, foster new parent. You seem cool, he hated his last home.”

“He is still here,” Jisung mumbles.

You laugh, hugging his arm slightly “Oh you’re fine you big baby. I’m just getting to know your other friend who isn’t the three-fifths guy. But I’m a little hurt that you talk about your homes instead of me, I’d like to think I was cool enough to talk about before I became your foster parent.”

“Yeah yeah, yell at me all you want. We’re here,” Jisung says, stopping outside the building.

“Oh,” you whisper before turning to Felix “If you want, you can wait out here for us. We just have to grab our bags and we can all walk to the bus stop together.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Felix says, nodding his head before walking to lean against the wall.

Okay l/n, woman up.

“Come on Ji,” you mumble, before anxiously taking a deep breath and holding the door for him.

What do I do if he’s in there? I can’t just say ‘sup Jeno, how are you doing after last night's talk?’ Maybe he saw my bag and left early for work, or is hiding in the bathroom. I would have no reason to check the bathroom.

“Noona?” Jisung calls, tilting his head as he stops in front of a door.

You glance at the number on the door, letting out a small ‘oh’ as you realize that it is your flat. You shakily take the key out of your wallet, sighing as you try to put it in the lock.

“Even when I’m not nervous, locks aren’t my thing,” you mumble, unlocking the door and pushing it open “you can just keep your shoes on since we’ll be here for five seconds.”

Jisung nods his head, walking straight to the guest room. You close the door behind you, resting your forehead on the door. Taking one more breath, you turn around to walk to your bedroom.

As you approach the door, you shake out your hands. Be better y/n, be braver.

“Jeno,” you say quietly knocking on the door “it’s y/n.”

After a second goes by with no response, you slowly push open the door.

“Thank god,” you whisper once you realize that the room is empty.

You quickly walk to your bedside table where your bag was leaning against the side, picking it up and turning out of the room as quickly as possible. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as soon as you close the door, the last conversation you had with Jeno still hanging in the air.

“Why don’t you go meet Felix outside, I have to do one more thing,” you tell Jisung, who was waiting by the door.

He nods his head, opening the door “If you take longer than three minutes, I’ll drop you so fast.”

“Nice threat,” you snort, rolling your eyes.

“Thanks, I try,” he says, winking before closing the door.

You smile softly, slinging the bag over your shoulder. You twist the engagement ring around your finger as you walk towards the kitchen table. slowly, you pull the ring off your finger. So far, the only time you have taken it off has been to sleep and when you helped YangYang move in. You thought the next memorable moment of taking this ring off was going to be your wedding.

Before the memories can grab hold of you, you set the ring down on the table and hurry out of the flat.

“Kuya, I’m so sorry I’m late,” you apologize, rushing into his office.

You had made it to the bus stop in time, but, of course, the road was under construction. Thankfully the detour was after the school, so the boys were able to get to school on time. You, on the other hand, were ten minutes late to a meeting with Taeil. You had called him as soon as you saw the sign, telling him you were going to be late. He reassured you that it was okay, he said he could do other work until you got here.

Taeil smiles as you drop into the seat in front of him “You’re all good, I got some paperwork done.”

“Oh good, I’m glad I didn’t keep you then.”

“Then should we start?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me just-”

Your sentence is cut short as you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

“Sorry Kuya, it’s my friend. He’d only call if it’s important, I’ll just take a second.”

Taeil nods his head, and you swipe the accept button.

“Hey y/n, where is the key?”

“Key?”

“Yeah, you said you’d leave a key so I could get into your flat.”

“Oh, I am sorry. It’s here with me, Jisung and I left our bags so I took him to go get it.”

Of course this had to happen. Not only did your bus make you late, but now you’re the reason your best friend has no way of getting the clothes he needs for something legal.

“Oh, does anyone else have a copy?”

“No, why would someone else have a copy of my key? Do you have enough time to come here? You can get the key, go to the apartment, and then to court.” Your breath comes out shaky, you hate how weak it must make you look. You can feel Taeil’s eyes watching you.

“I don’t think I do. I have to be there earlier than 20 because I guess they want me to go meet the guy at this place and I don’t even know,” you could hear that Ten was stressed, which made you even more anxious.

“Um, can you see if YangYang has any nice clothes? You guys are almost the same size”

“Yeah, I guess I can ask him.”

“Okay, again Ten I am really sorry. I completely forgot about you.”

“Wow, thanks a lot. It’s not like I am your bestest bud or anything,” he replies sarcastically, the smile in his voice calming you down slightly.

“I have to go, call me if you don’t get it.”

“Will do, bye-bye,” he replies before hanging up on you.

“I’m sorry about that. My friend has clothes at my house that I forgot to grab, and then I forgot to give him the key because I forgot mine and Jisungs bag there,” you explain. “Oh, and then because I went to get said bags I was late to our meeting-”

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“You look like you’re about to cry.”

“Blunt much?” you ask laughing, bringing the back of your hand to wipe a tear.

“What’s wrong?” he pauses, looking down to where you are rubbing the skin on your left ring finger. “Did something happen with you and Jeno?”

“This is so not the time and definitely not the place for this. I’m sorry that you have to see me like this, this is so unprofessional,” you say tilting your head back.

“Y/n,” he says leaning forward onto the desk “I majored in psychology, I think that makes me qualified to listen to you.”

“You’re my coworker.”

“I’m your friend.”

You pause, bringing your head back to look at him. You hadn’t expected him to say that. You knew you were friends in the workplace, but you didn’t expect him to care.

“Kuya Taeil, I don’t want to bother you, plus I already made you push back our meeting. The meeting I proposed to you, and I didn’t even make it on time,” you wipe two more tears that escape your eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. How about we go down to the youth center for our review? Boom, meeting done,” he says picking his pen up and dropping it, spreading his arms, while mouthing ‘wow.’

You smile softly at his attempt to make you happy, you expected him to drop the subject as soon as you opposed.

He smiles back at you, before pouting “So will you tell Kuya what’s wrong?”

“Wow, I never knew you could be so cute,” you compliment before taking a deep breath, averting your eyes to your lap.

“I uh, I don’t know where to stop,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself. “I mean start. But I guess Jeno never loved me? He uh, he loved my brother. “

Taeil’s eyes soften and you can’t help but notice the small sigh that leaves his lips. You don’t know what else you were expecting other than pity, you would feel the same if this happened to one of your friends. But you’re different, you don’t need other people to feel sorry for you.

“If I’m pushing, just tell me. But what did he say?”

“Does it matter exactly what he said? Because the message is that I was as close to dating my brother as he could get, he never wanted anything to do with me,” you clarified, fanning your eyes with your hand.

“Y/n I am sure he didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“And what does it matter if he didn’t mean to when he did,” you take a deep breath and run a hand through your hair. “That’s what I keep hearing, but whatever happened to the phrase actions speak louder than words? That doesn't just apply to the good situations.”

He nods his head “And that makes sense, I’m sure it is just because we don’t know how to make you feel better. Because let me tell you, I have no idea what to say.”

Taeil smiles after he succeeds in making you smile, he was glad you were talking to him. He knows you well enough to know you don’t see things pertaining to yourself clearly.

“So now that we have that out of the way, let’s get down to business. I am just going to talk, and if I say anything wrong feel free to chuck this at me,” he says seriously, pushing a box of tissues towards you. “I don’t know the full story, and I can imagine how hard this is for you. But what about him?”

“And what about him, he hid it from me for weeks. I’m not a monster Kuya, I’m not mad that he’s gay. I’m hurt that he kept it from me. And yeah, okay, maybe if I looked deep into my soul some part of me would be jealous. Jealous that the one man I want to marry, the one man I was ready to come home to every day, loves someone else,” you confess, smiling at how ridiculous you sound. Dropping your head into your hands, you squeeze your eyes shut. “God, I wish he had just cheated on me. Then I could hate him and move on.”

“And that is fair, but again what about his point of view?” Taeil asks calmly.

You tilt your head, something about his calm tone driving you crazy. “Do you think I haven’t done that? You’re forgetting I majored in psychology too, I don’t need this mansplained. While my brother was coming to get me and I was packing the bags, that was all I could do. I stood there, thought about how hard it must be for him to come out to me. How brave he is to come out to his long term girlfriend, to tell her that he likes her brother more than her. I am proud of him for gathering the courage.”

“But what about me? I have never complained about the big things in my life, I have never cheated or lied. I cared for my brother when he couldn’t speak English very well, I tried to not let my mom see how hard the moving was, I am the supportive friend. I did everything! So why does this have to happen to me? Why does the man I love have to like someone else?”

“Y/n I-”

“And I know,” you say, cutting him off “that these have nothing to do with each other. But for once in my life, I want to feel sorry for myself. To not be the bigger person and have a reason to just feel sorry for myself rather than receive pity from someone else. And I know how awful that sounds, I know that that makes me sound so awful. But I’m tired Kyua, I am so so tired.”

Again, his eyes soften as the tears stream down your face. “Y/n that doesn't make you an awful person. I think that is a fine reaction to have to something like this, I would probably do the same. This isn’t going to go away until you face it.”

“You know, I came here for sympathy.”

“You came here because your income depends on it.”

“Please, you people need me to come here.”

“We definitely need you, without you who would handle Jisung? And since you are such a great worker, I am gifting you the day off,” he announces standing up.

You look up to him, too tired to figure out what he was talking about “You aren’t my boss, you don’t have the right to ‘gift me’ a day off. But thanks I guess.”

“Just don’t worry about it,” he says, walking to your side of the desk. He crouches down and grabs the things you had taken out, smiling at you as he puts them back into your bag. “You look like you need a day. My only request is that you take today to talk to him. You have a lot to talk about.”

You stiffen at his words, at the idea of seeing Jeno again so soon. “I don’t think I’m ready to look at him Kuya.”

“Y/n, you won’t ever be ready. But you have to do it sooner rather than later, everyone thinks you are still engaged,” he stands back up, patting the bag. He holds onto it as he takes a seat in the chair next to you

“If you want, I can text him from your phone and then you only have to do the hard part. Sound good?”

Your eyes widen and you straighten in the chair “Um no. You have made it clear that I have to talk to him, but so soon? I mean I only found out last night.”

“That’s great! No better time than the present.”

“Kuya I don’t know, that seems too soon to me.”

Taeil sighs, dropping his head back dramatically before looking you dead in the eyes “Look y/n, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The hard way is I break into wherever your file is, find his number on the emergency contact form, and call him that way. That plan also involves me holding you here against your will.”

“Don’t you think that’s illegal in some way?”

He shrugs his shoulders “Doesn’t have to be.”

You groan loudly, pulling out your phone “Will you stay here with me?”

“It’s my office, of course I’m not going anywhere,” he answers sarcastically.

You smile nervously at him, opening your phone and pulling up Jeno’s contact. After a last comforting look from Taeil, you press call and hold the phone to your ear.

“Y/n? “ Jeno answers quietly.

You take in a sharp breath, you weren’t expecting him to answer right away. “Um hey Jeno, Kuya Taeil is kind of holding me hostage so I have to ask you something.”

“Oh yeah, shoot.”

You shift in your seat, you miss when conversations between you two weren’t awkward. “Can we meet up and talk? We can meet up at the flat if you want.”

“Oh, well I am here right now. Hyung made me take the day off,” he pauses, laughing awkwardly “but I guess that doesn't help if you’re at work. I’ll shut up now.”

“No, it’s okay. Taeil said I could have the day off, so I can come now. I just have to talk to my actual boss, but I’m sure she’ll give me the day off. Just, I’ll be there yeah?” you don’t know why you feel the need to assure him that you’ll be there, you just want him to feel safe. Yet something about that makes you feel like you’ve lost.

“Okay, well take your time. I don’t want you to get into more trouble.”

“It’ll be fine, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, text me when you’re on your way. Oh, I- thank you for giving the ring back.”

“Oh,” at the mention of the ring, you rub your thumb over where it used to be. “Yeah, of course. I’m sure- yeah you’re welcome.”

Jeno laughs softly “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you when I’m on my way,” you hang up the phone before something more awkward can come out.

“That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

“It was so awkward, but I think you’re right. This was a good idea,” you admit standing up. You wipe your eyes one more time, and pick up your bag.

Taeil nods his head, standing up and walking to the door “Of course it is a good idea, it was my idea.”

You nod your head, eyes cast down “Thank you for your help today. I didn’t think we were close enough for you to care,” you glance up at him “Can I uh.”

You smile as he spreads his arms open for a hug, squeezing you tight once you wrap your arms around him. “Of course I care, us foreigners have to stick together right?”

You smile, letting him go “You’re right, me and you against the world.”

He nods his head, pulling the door open for you “Now, go make yourself feel better.”

---

Thank you all for reading! I feel like this was a pretty boring and long chapter, so thank you for making it through! I’m going to end the series either next part or the one after, most likely the next one. I would love to know your thoughts, have an amazing day/night!

Taglist: @jnctzen @etaerealboy

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part 3 | Part 5

Summery: Your fiancé starts acting different once your brother comes back to Korea after working for a year in England.

#nct scenarios #nct jeno #NCT #nct imagines #jeno x jaemin #jeno x reader #nct taeil #nct ten #nct jaemin #nct jaehyun #wayv ten #wayv yangyang #kpop #kpop imagines #stray kids felix

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