#i think they should become friends. listen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heechwe · 2 days ago

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the start of time | 𝐩𝐣𝐬

୨୧ pairing: park (jay) jongseong x reader ୨୧ word count: 8.6k ୨୧ genre: angst, semi-fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: friends to strangers to lovers, childhood friends, miscommunication, pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex, TRIGGERS FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND PARENTAL ABUSE IN THE LATTER HALF OF FIC. ୨୧ synopsis: You've lost your creative spark for the first time since moving away from Jeju Island, leaving behind your best friend in the process without an explanation. But when a work assignment sends you back to your hometown, truths come to light and perhaps lost love can come back with a little time and effort. ➸ bless @pars-ley for following this fic to the very beginning and being one of the best betas ever! this story is for you, ley, and thank you ♡ 💿Listen to the story's playlist here!

Over the thin railing that separates Jay from the cliffs below, the waves crash violently together. The weather mirrors the feelings circulating through his veins. The ripples of the seabed meeting the sand make him long for what his life could be instead of its current state. The wind whips his trenchcoat in angry thrashes against his back. His hands grip the lighthouse’s iron bars to keep his body steady. The upcoming storm was forecast last night to be one of the biggest downpours of the summer.

As the second in command of the lighthouse keeper, his father, it’s standard practice to be prepared for what’s to come. As the sea continues its visceral reaction to the weather, Jay thinks about her and what her life has become since she’s left. Is she happy? Is Seoul everything she dreamed of? Was running from Jeju without saying goodbye worth it? Or is she closer than he believes, her heart’s desire turning out to be not far from the fishing town they grew up in?

His father calls for him inside, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. Probably for the better, anyway. Thinking about those chapters of his life, the book separated cleanly and harshly with a before and after, does him no good. So, like he should, he runs inside to do the next task that keeps one of the last lighthouses in Jeju working properly. Even if his heart has to be sacrificed in the process.

The subject of your next photograph takes no interest in the lens standing three feet away. Her tail wiggles rapidly as she inspects the bush in front of her with her perky, wet nose. You giggle quietly behind your camera, trying not to disturb her inspection of the roses.

Rule #1 of photography, according to your department head Sunghoon, is to make yourself nonexistent. To get the perfect shot, conceal yourself as much as possible. It’s taken many practice sessions since your first magazine catalog, the original photos coming out less than perfect. Thankfully, you’re now lead photographer thanks to Sunghoon’s tutelage and tips. After five years, you feel like you’re on stable ground.

It reminds you of Jay, the sudden memory of him being the focus of your lens many times before a punch to the gut. Your oldest friend in the world probably wonders what the reason was for your sudden departure. You couldn’t even leave him a letter to provide some semblance of an explanation, one that he definitely deserved more than anyone else.

If only you had a reason that made sense or could salvage the bond you once shared. You know now it’s been eaten away by silence, so what could be said anyhow to repair it?

Your guilt gnaws at your empty stomach the entire way back to the headquarters of Otherworldly, the magazine you interned at and subsequently were hired to take pictures for. You greet the rest of your team when you make your way upstairs.

”Finally found some inspiration?” Sunwoo asks. Your friend tries to balance a pencil on the top of his nose.

”I’m working on it. In the meantime, I got the copies you wanted.” You give him the folder that holds your pictures for the month’s spread.

”Barely made the deadline this time, kid.” Sunghoon tuts his head at you.

“Leave her be,” Chaewon chides him, thwacking her notebook on the back of his head. It’s nice to know the writer’s room has your back when the boys decide to tease, especially in the form of Chaewon. She may be a stern leader, but she also happens to have a soft spot for you, the only female photographer.

You hear your boss, Kim Taehyung, call your name and ask you to come to his office. Your body bristles at the command, but Chaewon pats you on the shoulder. “Probably just a timesheet thing.”

Tip-toeing into Taehyung’s office, you smile at his back. Your boss is focused on a box of files on the windowsill, the outline of his button up shirt highlighted by the sun. “Please sit,” he says.

You do as he asks, putting your hands on your knees to pinch the skin, an old habit you couldn't kick. You tuck your hands under your legs to stop when Taehyung turns to you. He presses his glasses higher to the bridge of his nose, a soft smile emerging on his lips. “I wanted to say your photos from the last column were very impressive.”

”Oh!” You respond instinctively. Expecting reprimands that turned out to be compliments, you mentally take a deep breath of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

"Also," he says, "I was wondering how you’d feel being sent out on an assignment. Well, you and Sunwoo, actually. Sunghoon was discussing a location-focused piece, and he recommended you for it since you may need a change of scenery for some fresh inspiration.”

You nod your head immediately. “Of course!”

Taehyung claps his hands together, clearly pleased. “Perfect. I’ve already booked you two for the next flight to Aewol in two days. It’ll probably be easy to find a place to stay, right?”

The pit in your stomach that faded immediately widens into a chasm. The sound of your hometown’s name on Taehyung’s lips could have been a figment of your imagination. A sick joke your guilt materialized to punish you further. But as you look longer at your boss, his glee transforming into hesitant confusion, you know the reality is far worse.

”The location piece is for Jeju,” you say, the realization on your lips hitting your ears like a cannon.

”Is that an issue? I can always send Jungwon with Sunwoo instead."

”No sir! Not a problem at all.” The words tumble out before you can stop them.

Jungwon, the little prick, wouldn’t get in the way of your success if you could help it. It’s bad enough that he reminds you of your creative block whenever he gets the chance. No way would he steal a cover piece from you. Particularly the one Sunghoon recommended you for and your boss expected you to complete without problems.

Despite the implications creating intense dread in every fiber of your being.

”Perfect. Get some sleep for the flight! I’ll send the piece details in an email first thing tomorrow morning.”

You walk back to your desk in a daze, unsure what to say when Sunghoon, Sunwoo, and Chaewon ask about the meeting. All your thoughts can center on is Jay, his smiling face continuously playing in your mind’s eye.

“This town is cute! A bit barren, but cute,” Sunwoo says as he exits the car parked in front of your childhood home. Your mother’s rose bushes stand tall near the mailbox, the only color in the dry grasslands surrounding your house. Aewol pales in comparison to the colors of Seoul, the city’s vibrant hues suddenly replaced with sepia tones. The only color that seems to shine through the landscape is the sea a five-minute walk away.

”Say that again, Woo, and your face won’t look so cute.” You roll your eyes and grab your luggage from the trunk.

Two weeks, only two weeks, you can survive two weeks. Your mantra on the flight to Jeju Island has been giving you some relief at the thought of going back home in half a decade. Standing in front of the brick and mortar that encapsulates your old house, you find the words to be extremely hollow.

With her uncanny senses, your mother is already out the door and greeting you and Sunwoo with hugs and kisses on the cheeks. How she could tell the two of you were barely out of the car without spying out the window, you’re unsure.

Sunwoo melts under your mother’s attention, his gummy smile and polite aura on full display. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

”Ah, my prayers were answered. Glad to see my daughter returned with a boyfriend!”

Yours and Sunwoo’s eyes grow to saucers. Your tongues are erupting with explanations at an absurdly fast speed. “No, Mom,” you shush her as Sunwoo’s blush creeps across his neck. “Woo’s my coworker. He’s here with me on an assignment.”

”Oh! Apologies.” She laughs behind one hand and pats Sunwoo on the back with the other. “Doesn’t mean one day you can’t be more than coworkers! That’s how your father and I met, remember?”

You give her a close-lipped smile and nod, the muscles in your jaw tightening.

You hadn’t thought about your father or your parents’ relationship once since you had flown out to the mainland. Admittedly, your life was all the better for it.

Feeling the air of his presence surrounding yours again twists the veins in your neck to tense knots. The ends of your hair prickle in anticipation. You make it to the front of your doorstep, wondering where he is and why he didn’t barge outside to greet you.

Like she can read your mind, your mother says, “I forgot to call and tell you, honey. Your father had an accident at the factory a month ago.” You see a tear in the corner of her eye, but you don’t address it. “So…he’s been bedridden for the past few months now.”

Sunwoo expresses his deepest sympathies. Unbeknownst to him, they deserve to go to the next beggar before him.

Like any other child, you should worry about your father’s sudden health change with a heavy heart and a frazzled mind. You should feel guilty for being away for so long, wondering how to make up for the lost time.

But you feel nothing. Not an ounce of what you should feel.

Even when you sit by your parents’ bed, his eyes lazily gazing out the window while your mother tells him in a loving voice that you’re home, your emotions are devoid of anything negative or positive. Sunwoo smiles and greets him politely. Your father says nothing. The seizure that overtook him stole his ability to enunciate coherent words.

Some moments later, when it’s just the two of you in the room together, you itch to leave. It should be a pleasure to see him. But you’re unsure to see it any other way but objectively: he’s just a body in a bed, doing nothing every day.

You hear your mother shouting in the living room. Her voice is at an abnormally high pitch to exemplify her happiness. You forgot she could achieve such a decibel when she wanted to.

”You won’t believe who’s here, Seongie!”

Seongie.

The childhood nickname Jay was blessed with by his parents, and the name stuck like a second skin. Now, it bounces off your ears and exacerbates your already conflicting emotions. Your body goes into overdrive from the sudden overstimulation, at ease from knowing Jay is close by but petrified you're seeing him after so long.

You fix your hair and take tentative steps out of your parents' room and into the hallway, hearing your mother call your name to beckon you to welcome your old friend.

When you see him, his frame filling the doorway of your childhood house, you’re transported back in time. You see yourself and Jay on a day when he could barely stand at half the wall height. You were etching pencil markings into the doorframe, the wood concealing the handwriting perfectly when the door was fully closed. A time when there were no worries or anxieties placed on you, the two of you against the world.

Looking over his face now, you realize the years have not shown physically. He still has the same angled jaw and smooth cheeks. His bottom lip remains puffy, especially when he pouts. The only thing that has changed with time is his eyes, most likely from the image before him, one he hasn’t seen in so long.

He has every right to be confused. One second, you stopped being a staple in his life. Now, you’re back in it without a warning.

You can’t deny your heart clenching. The muscle seizes when he looks over your figure, his jaw ticking when he finally meets your eyes with his own.

”You’re back,” he says finally. His first words to you in five years hold an air of uncertainty, laced with unspoken pain. He’s unsure what to do with his body, his arms pressed to his sides and his hands stuffed tightly into his pockets.

Knowing you’re the cause of it makes you want to run to Seoul all over again with your tail between your legs, hoping you can forget the misery you’ve caused. How can one apology hold enough weight to make up for what you did to one of the only people you’ve ever loved?

Sunwoo, aware of the sudden tension flooding the room, holds out a hand to your best friend. “Hi, I’m Sunwoo.”

Jay breaks eye contact with you to take Sunwoo’s palm, shaking it with a gentle but present grip. Jay gestures to your mom when he discusses yours and Sunwoo’s job at the magazine. “She’s very proud of her daughter, you know."

”Of course!” Your mother exclaims. “‘S not everyday that your child becomes some hip photographer.”

Jay inhales a heavy breath and looks down at his watch. “I have to go back to the lighthouse, but—“

”I thought your dad still ran that thing,” you cut Jay off. Aewol’s lighthouse was one of the last on the island, and the last love Jay’s father had left after his wife passed away twelve years ago. You expected it to stay in the family, but not in this way. Not when Jay has so many dreams to fulfill. Or, at least, you hope so.

Jay releases a humorless laugh, eyes falling at the corners. “Pop’s getting old. Can’t do it forever.”

He hugs your mother and gives a soft wave to Sunwoo. You feel the pit in your chest from a few days ago re-erupt when Jay looks in your direction before he departs. All you’re left with is the grim line of his mouth to haunt you for the rest of your afternoon.

The shutter of your camera makes Jay turn his head to you with a shy grin, his hair blowing in all directions from the wind. Your spot on the cliffside overlooking the sea is close enough to the lighthouse for you to see Jay’s father going in and out of the structure with supplies shipped from the mainland. Jay only runs over when his father calls for him to help, but his father hasn’t bothered to in the last hour or so.

In the downtime, the two of you have been alternating between science homework and enjoying the cool, cloudy weather. You’ve taken a number of shots of the water’s current and weeds surrounding your picnic blanket, but the majority of them were of your best friend. He pretends he’s going to smack your lens away, but he never does.

“Are you done taking candid shots of me?” Jay asks, his pencil scratching against his notebook.

“Depends. Maybe once you tell me what you’re writing,” you tease. “Because it’s definitely not a chemical equation.”

Jay chuckles and puts his notebook between the two of you. The words are jumbled in front of you until you recognize them as a recipe. “I was testing out this version of hoedeopbap last night, but I used white fish instead of salmon. It turned out really good, even Jaeyun liked it.”

You rest your head on your hand, sprawling out on the blanket to look at Jay. He always appears so animated when discussing food. You wonder when he’ll take the initiative and do something with his passion.

“What?” He asks when he catches you staring.

You grin and turn your eyes away. “You’re just a dork for food, is all.”

“Says the nerd with her camera always around her neck.”

You click your tongue at him. “I consider myself an opportunist. How else will I get good shots if I don’t have my baby with me?” You rub your camera’s body lovingly, and Jay releases a hearty laugh.

The booming sound of your father’s voice calling your name makes your entire body flinch. You swear his figure is as tall as the lighthouse as he comes towards your picnic blanket, stopping short when he sees Jay next to you.

“It’s almost dinner time. Let’s go home.” Your father says the words with a false ease; they hide his warning to follow him back to your house. Your anxiety rumbles low in your stomach, but you play it off like it’s nothing as you pack up your stuff.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jay says, his eyes hopeful for the next morning. As it is your routine for him to bike with you to school, you’re also counting the minutes until you see him again.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, your eyes soft but your stomach wrapped in knots. When you’re out of sight, and your father wraps his hand around your upper arm on your way to the car, you calculate the next seconds until you’re away from him and back in the safety of your best friend’s presence.

You and Sunwoo have been around the town square of Aewol all morning and afternoon. The crisp hour of 4 PM hits you sharply with the sound of cows and other livestock sounding off somewhere nearby. The pictures you’ve both taken of the local townspeople, random animals passing through the pale greenery, and subtle landscape have been average at best. They don’t hit you with awe or fuel any further inspiration. It’s the same cycle you’ve repeated for the past three months, trying to strike some sort of match of creativity only to come up empty.

“Let’s be honest,” Sunwoo says, looking over his own camera’s reel. “These kinda blow.”

“You don’t say?” You kick a free cobblestone off the road in front of you, lips downturned.

“The assignment is ‘Hidden Treasures’ right? Maybe we’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“Where do you think we’ll find something like that here?”

“You’re a local,” Sunwoo says in his defense. “Where did you go all the time in this backwater town?”

The beginning of your sarcastic remark dies on your lips the second you see Jay walking out of the laundromat with Heeseung, one of your old high school friends. He looks the same as Jay, still youthful but showing maturity around the edges.

Jay catches your eyes as they continue walking, his face contorting in surprise but unsure how to address it. Heeseung is the one to run towards you and pick you up in a tight hug, practically squeezing the remaining energy out of you.

“Holy shit, Jong wasn’t lying! You’re really back!” Heeseung laughs, his eyes becoming crescent moons from his happiness. You match his reaction, genuinely glad to see another familiar face.

You introduce Sunwoo to Heeseung, and Sunwoo exchanges pleasantries with Jay. Jay remains tense, the two of you conflicted about how to bridge the awkwardness that lingers.

Heeseung, like Sunwoo, is a great detective, sniffing out tension and immediately directing the conversation to your cameras. “So, Jong was saying you’re here for an assignment?”

“Yes!” Sunwoo says before you can. “We’re trying to find hidden treasures, actually. Our boss’s words, not mine.” Heeseung laughs at Sunwoo and then flicks his fingers.

“Jong could show you guys the inside of the lighthouse! Or even the view from that damn balcony would be a treasure in its own right. You can practically see the whole town from up there. Right, Jong?”

Jay rolls his eyes and rolls the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. “Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Perfect! We were dying here without any good material. No offense to you small town folk,” Sunwoo apologizes, but neither of your old friends mind. They welcome Sunwoo’s city perspective with laughter and an open hand, just like they always have with newcomers.

On your walk to the lighthouse, Heeseung and Sunwoo taking the lead, you’re left to walk alongside Jay. The tension is a tad looser than it was before, but it still pervades the space between you both.

Finally, Jay says, “I can’t believe you’re actually home, y’know.” He says the sentence more like a question, his voice unable to mask the traces of hurt that linger.

It makes your heart rip, but you avoid the workings inside your chest to keep the conversation light. "It took a long time, didn't it?”

”Yeah. It’s like you dropped off the planet.” Jay’s voice turns a degree lighter. He smiles, the crack in his solid facade giving you a way back in.

“I basically did. All I had was my camera and some clothes in my bag.”

Jay's eyes widen, startled by the thought. “You’ve never traveled light once in your entire life.”

”I know! I barely had time to grab the necessities.”

His eyes are filled with humor. “And by that, you mean…”

“Obviously my Pokémon collection, for starters. I had to start from scratch,” you joke. “Good thing I saved all of the old cards under my bed.”

”Even the one of Charmander that I dropped in Jaeyun’s homemade soju?”

You nod, laughing. “It still smells like watermelon.”

”Bullshit!”

You both fall into an easy rhythm of witty banter and taunting, recalling old memories and brushing shoulders in a mocking fashion.

By the time you’re taking photographs on the highest floor of the lighthouse, the tension has dissipated by a large portion. Your relationship with Jay may not be completely back to where it was before, but the first lighthearted smile he throws in your direction proves it’s a start.

And a start is just enough to make your heart feel a million pounds lighter.

“So Jongseong is flailing this card around, not realizing that the bowl of my signature soju punch is right there behind him…” Jake tells the story of the Charmander card with animated expressions. Heeseung and Jay roll their eyes, but Sunwoo laughs the entire time, his buzz bumping his energy to a level you had never seen before.

The bonfire Jake and Heeseung set up a walk away from the lighthouse is big enough for all five of you to sit comfortably around it. It seemed to be the only way your old friends could hang out together at this point in their adult lives. The bar that still stood in town filled with too many old people to feel like an acceptable hangout location.

“And he completely dropped not only her precious Pokémon card, but his whole fist into the punch bowl! I had to make a whole new batch without my parents knowing about it!” Jake laughs incredulously.

The memory still holds a level of insanity for him, clearly—not just at the situation but the level of teasing that you and Jay would devolve to when you were in your own little world together. You couldn’t help that you wanted to take your card from Jay’s hands, even if that meant soaking him in alcohol to get him to give it up.

You lift your beer to your lips, blushing. Jay sits beside you and notices the humor in your expression, smiling to himself too. You didn’t expect to reach this level of closeness again so soon. Who knew it would take a work project to find your way back to each other? With the week coming to a close and a good catalog of photos under your belt thanks to him, you could say the glass was looking half full.

“You guys got any more stories? This shit’s hilarious!” Sunwoo says, still laughing.

“Loads, man,” Jake responds.

“He’s got the best memory of all of us. Probably remembers all of our first naps in elementary,” Heeseung adds.

“How about we focus on the present, please? Otherwise we’ll be here until the sun comes up, Dee and Dum,” Jay says, pointing to the prime suspects with their all-knowing smirks.

“What else is there to say, Jay? Jake and I have been toiling on the dredging boats. You keep guarding that white tower and saying no to your uncle every time he asks you to work at his restaurant. Same old, same old.”

You turn your head to stare at Jay, perplexed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

It’s always been Jay’s dream to make something of himself with his recipes. Bookmarks, sticky notes, anything with free space held an ingredient here or a step for a recipe there. It was like it was second nature, as were photographs for you.

How could he deny himself from what he wanted?

“I already have responsibilities here. I can’t drive up and down the highway to Park & Co. every day.”

“Start small, idiot.” You chide him, half-serious in your pestering. “Who said you couldn't do both? You can be a good son and still have your own dream.”

“Careful,” Jake says to you. “He might listen to you.”

“You’re the only one who gets through that cold heart of his,” Heeseung teases.

Jay gives the older boys a stern look, and they back off immediately.

On the walk back to your house, Jay’s jacket nestled around your shoulders, you grill him further on the prospect of him cooking seriously. “You should do it.”

Jay shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “And what’ll happen to the lighthouse? My dad will go back every morning on his cane and keep it working himself? No way.”

“Come on, who says you can’t do both?” You flaunt your arms in the air, emphasizing your point. “It’s not like it rains every day here.”

He looks at you with humored eyes, their shape becoming extremely thin when he smiles. “You’re even more stubborn as an adult, you know?

You poke your tongue out at him. “I could say the same about you, Seongie.”

The rain soaks your clothes when you run through Jay’s door. You shake off the droplets in your hair, most of the strands needing to be wrung out in your fist. Jay gets you a towel to dry off with, laughing at your current state of affairs.

”Don’t make fun of me. Be glad I still came, asshole,” you warn, warming yourself with the dryness of the cotton towel.

Jay raises his hands in mercy. “I told you to come earlier! Forecasts are no joke.”

”Sometimes they’re wrong,” you say.

”Ninety-five percent of the time, they’re not. Trust the lighthouse keeper next time, maybe? I’ve been watching those skies for three years. I know if and when the weathermen are full of shit.”

You roll your eyes and shuck your shoes off, “Whatever. Any chance you have a spare pair of warm socks for me? I may get frostbite.”

”One, that involves snow,” Jay says as he walks into his small bedroom, leaving you alone for a second before coming out with what you requested. “And two, promise to bring them back. I only have so many pairs before I have to go to the city for more.”

”Scout’s honor,” you promise. You switch out your soaked socks for Jay’s, the feeling of the fabric making you immediately warmer. It could also be the fireplace that Jay put kindling in before you got there, but it’s mostly the socks. “Thank you. I feel better already.”

“I’d offer you a set of clothes too, but I’m moving a lot of my stuff from my dad’s.”

“It’s not that far away, though. You really want to live in this tiny shack?”

Jay laughs and returns to his food on the stove. “Do you think I could bring a girl home living with him? I love him, but I’m getting too old to be his roommate.”

You smile and press your arms into the kitchen counter, but you know it’s false. The thought of Jay being with someone else sprouts a gargantuan knot of jealousy in your stomach. He’s never belonged to you, not by any means. Not only that, but your illogical departure gives you no right to claim him now. And yet…

“Hey, where’d you go?” He waves a dish towel in front of your face, a smile on his lips.

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” you play off your prying thoughts.

“Obviously.” He sticks his tongue out at you and continues to stir the concoction on the stove.

“What are you making anyway?”

“Seaweed soup. I haven’t been able to make you any since…the last birthday we spent together.”

Your body warms deep down to the soles of your feet at this surprise. “My birthday was three months ago.”

He chuckles and turns his head to you, smirking. “Consider it a belated birthday gift then.” He carries on stirring, but continues talking. “Besides, you always liked my soup compared to your mom’s. Too watery, if I remember right.”

You blush and step away from the counter. “Let’s not talk about her or her food.”

Jay’s face turns puzzled. “You’ve always been so bristly when we talk about your family. Your mom is one of the sweetest ladies in town."

“You don’t get it. You didn’t grow up with her.”

“Hey, at least you have both parents around.”

You slam your hand down on another laminate countertop, growing more frustrated the longer the topic is broached. “Jongseong, please drop it.”

“Why are you getting so upset?” He asks, puzzled and growing alarmingly quiet at your outburst.

“Because you don’t get it! And you never will, okay? So let it go!”

The kitchen suddenly feels too suffocating, the memories of the past and your argument melding together in a way that makes any hunger that you had become a full stomach stuffed with nothing but anger and fear. You run out of the house and back into the rain, knowing if you say anything more, your secrets will fall around you like pellets soaking your skin.

The lanterns fill the sky like a thousand stars, close enough for you to touch before they’re whisked away into the dark clouds above you. Even for your small town, every adult and child knows the end of summer festival is a time to make the last set of wishes and affirmations before autumn comes. If Jay’s father yearned for an easy season, he would buy a lantern to release on a night light tonight, as would your friends’ families who hoped for good health and fortune.

You smile when you manage to catch one, holding on tight despite knowing it’s against tradition. Once one is meant to float away, it was considered rude to stop it from continuing on its path upward.

Jay chuckles and grabs it from you, matching your pout in jest. “Next year, I’ll buy you your own, alright? Don’t be greedy!”

You roll your eyes and watch the lantern rise up and away from your spot on the beach. It shimmers in an amber glow until it slips away into the black sky overhead.

You turn to him, eyes lit up not just from the lantern flames. “Did you wish for anything this year?”

Jay shrugs. “I can’t really wish for anything ‘cause I didn’t get—“

“Don’t give me that! It’s symbolic, anyway. Just tell me,” you whine.

Jay only side-eyes you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You attempt to throw a bundle of sand in his direction, but he sees your upcoming attack the second you raise your arm. He takes your wrist in his hand, the clump disintegrating between your fingers. The two of you laugh as you try to wiggle free from his grasp.

You’re both a tangle of limbs until he finally pins you down on the ground. He hovers above you, panting hard. “I win,” Jay replies, his breathing ragged but eyes still sparkling from a successful takedown.

“You wish.”

In the flicker of lantern lights and midnight stars overhead, Jay can’t help himself from leaning down closer until there’s barely a breath between your lips. He lets every doubt that has lingered over the past fourteen years dissipate and surrenders to the moment, feeling the softness of your mouth as he kisses you.

You could be glowing as bright as the lights still being sent off into the sky. You feel like you are, anyway.

He doesn’t go faster or push you further, the simplicity of the act making you sparkle from within with every ebb and flow of your conjoined lips. The crackle of a firework is what makes the two of you come up for air, unaware of how much time has passed.

You let the moment hang between you the entire walk home. He holds your hand, squeezing it every now and then, the action more valuable than any words he could say right now. He holds himself back from giving you another kiss to say goodnight, knowing there’s always tomorrow.

Minutes after you make it inside, the scene in front of you turns whatever joy was left from Jay’s presence into acid.

“Can you not do anything right around here? I ask for the simplest things and even that’s too much.” Your father points to the food in his hands with an air of disgust directed at your mother.

He spits his vitriol in her face, the pattern commonplace. The behavior is nothing new, but his eyes show something worse than normal brewing beneath the surface.

“I can fix it,” your mother assures him, trying to take the bowl from him. “I’ll throw out the old batch and—“

“So now you think wasting food is the better choice? Are you stupid?”

The two of them are unaware of your presence, but even if they were, you doubt that would change the downward spiral they were heading towards.

She tries to walk away from him like she always has, diffusing the situation in the only way she knows how, but he drops the bowl on the counter and takes her by the arm.

“You’re not leaving,” he warns. The next moments pass in a blur, each one that plays out making you hover outside of your body, looking down in disbelief. Your mother’s temple hits the wood with a terrible thud. The next second, your body is pressed against your father’s to pull him away, begging, “Daddy, please stop!”

His upper arm has enough force to jam into your chest and knock you onto the kitchen tile below. Pain reverberates up your tailbone from hitting the floor in a violent bang.

Your mother comes from the daze of her assault to cover your body with her own. It’s a pointless defense, your father’s feet slamming hard on the floor as he walks away and into the bedroom without looking back once.

She apologizes profusely, holding your head in her hands as tears stream down her face without an endpoint. You can barely form a tear yourself, still unsure the past ten minutes happened at all. An hour ago, you had your first kiss, and now…

“Your aunt lives on a coast off the mainland. I can’t let you stay here anymore, my love.”

That moment is when you feel the water form in your eyes. You couldn’t leave now, not with so much left uncertain.

“Promise me you’ll leave this place. Don’t think about this night again and find something better, please.”

That entire night, the waves knocking into each other with the same force as you had encountered hours ago, you feel your heart shatter into a multitude of pieces, each fragment tinier and more painful than the last. The thought of Jay waking up to see you in the morning only to find you erased from his life, robs any chance of you sleeping on the boat ride to Wando.

He’ll try to call and text, for sure. But what could be said that would explain the last twenty four hours without breaking your promise to your mother? How could you live with sharing such intimate details of your household, even with someone as sacred to you as Jay is?

How could you make him believe it wasn’t his fault that you fled without revealing your most vulnerable and harsh reality? After coming so close to the future you always dreamed of with him, what would he think? What would he do?

So, like any coward does, you let the phone ring until your battery dies, not bothering to charge it again until you make it to your aunt’s. You tell yourself he’ll move on and life will be better with you safe and out of the picture. Every beat of your breaking heart may call you a liar, but you’ll learn to twist it into the truth one day.

The next afternoon, sun slowly setting to meet the waves below, you walk towards the lighthouse with the courage your younger self didn’t have the night you ran away. Your heart tosses around in your mouth when you take the first step through the threshold, but now is the last time you fear the truth. If you couldn’t explain the circumstances back then, the least you could do was explain them now.

You take the trek up the steps to the top floor of the lighthouse, every step heavier than the last. Jay stands inside the lantern room cleaning the large bulb at the center of the space. He immediately tenses when you walk through the open door, but he says nothing. He only holds the same somber expression he had the first day you arrived back in Aewol. Only now, so much more rests behind his face that you cannot decipher.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. The words release something you believed couldn’t be separated from your being. Your guilt remains present, but the apology provides a long-held breath of fresh air.

He looks up to meet your gaze, eyebrows furrowing just a touch. The setting sun casts amber shadows across his face, making his confusion breathtaking. Clearly, he’s unsure what exactly you’re apologizing for.

The next words already taste like lead in your mouth, but you can’t hold the weight of them for another second.

Speaking them out loud is what will set you free.

“The night I left, my dad pushed my mom into a cabinet,” you confess. The eight words you just uttered create a well of tears in your eyes, but you keep your voice level and solid. “He had always been…harsh before, not just with her, but that was the first night I ever saw him hurt her with his hands instead of his words.

“I tried to stop it from getting worse, and I fell down—no,” you take a breath, “h-he threw—he threw me down on the floor.” You feel foolish for trying to minimize his actions, knowing there’s no reason to protect him anymore. You lower your head, ashamed. “That was when my mom called my aunt in Wando. She begged me not to say anything, so I kept it a secret. You’re the first person I’ve ever told about it… and about how much of an asshole my father really is.”

You can’t help the way your words crumble on your tongue or the low whimper that erupts from your lips. You had accepted in silence the harsh reality of your father being a violent and cruel human being, but speaking the words aloud is another beast entirely.

You go cold, your figure limp until you feel Jay’s gentle fingers under your chin. They pull your face up to meet his, catching his glassy and red eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

You sniffle. “What would you have done? We were seventeen—“

“Fuck that,” Jay seethes, his face a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I would’ve killed him then, just like I want to right now.”

You laugh and take his fingers in yours. “I made a promise.” You lock onto his gaze harder, trying to convey every ounce of regret you still feel. “I thought about calling you every day. I’d pick up the phone and didn’t know how to come up with the right words, especially after…”

Jay laughs, passing over the curve of your cheek with his thumb. It’s the rhythmic pattern of his touch that makes you come down from such heightened emotions. It’s always been his superpower, grounding you like this. “If I had known I wouldn’t see you again, I would’ve kissed you until the sun came up.”

You blush, your body flushing with heat. “Nothing’s stopping you now, Jongseong. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He steps forward, the shy boy you grew to love appearing in front of you. The last time you were this close, you both were unsure about most things in life, but not about how much you meant to him, and vice versa.

Now, the feelings he had put on hold for so long take hold of him, his heart a kaleidoscope of pent-up sensations when he finally presses his lips to yours. His mouth is ravenous, his tongue finding yours as his arms clutches onto your body with fervor.

You’re encased in him, all the lost time suddenly found in the spaces of his mouth on yours, your hands on his body, and the moans that leave your mouth. He undoes the buttons of your cardigan with quick ease, taking it off of your shoulders and somewhere in the room you don’t care to remember. You help him pull the sweater over his head to kiss the column of his throat and top of his chest, making him shudder.

You both pause to hurry down to the drawing room below, not wanting to continue on the iron floor next to the bright bulb of the lighthouse. Yes, the cot off to the side of the room is not incredibly comfortable, but you care little about its lack of comfort when Jay lays you down on your back and smothers your body in kisses. He makes a map of your skin until he meets the apex of your thighs, your body highly strung by the time he kisses the center of your legs.

You clutch his hair with both hands and hold tight in the midst of his ministrations, his whispered words of affirmation and the figure-eight patterns of his tongue saying just enough to push you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

He lifts his head from your body to crawl over you, his heart in his mouth as he says the words that have always been in his mind and heart from the second he saw you. “I love you.”

You’re unsure if it’s normal to cry at such a confession or in the midst of your current situation, but regardless, there are no tears of fear or pain. They’re ones that fill the silence between you with what he already knows to be true. But you say the words he needs to hear anyway. “I love you, too, Seongie.”

This is what it feels like to be at home. His body against yours, him sliding so easily inside of you without a word needed for the immense amounts of pleasure that already exists. It could be a handful of minutes or a span of time that carries over into the next morning. All that matters is his lips on your own and his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

And in between every movement, he has to remind you how much he loves you. His words and feelings are already embossed into your heart, but it’s nice to hear the breathless cadence of his voice. “I love you so much,” he groans, his end close with the sudden stutters of his body.

You fall off the cliffside together, your bodies in sync in the best possible way as your eyes see the stars from the very first night you kissed in the back of your eyelids. And when he has his hands in your hair, his touch lulling you to sleep, you wonder why it took you this long to come back to the one person who has always been the safest space in your world.

The two of you stay nestled in the thin blanket, Jay’s body your source of warmth in the small drawing room of the lighthouse. The cot barely holds your bodies, but with you both squeezing together and not wanting to let go, you make it work.

Jay takes stray hairs from your face to tuck behind your ears. “I can’t believe you didn’t know how bad my crush was until the festival.”

You giggle into his chest. “I wasn’t paying attention to boys back then! How would I have known?” You hold his gaze, suddenly vulnerable.

He chuckles. “I think I was pretty obvious.”

“To everyone but me, I guess,” you joke. “Besides, I think I always knew I’d end up with you, strangely.”

“That’s not strange, not at all.” He kisses you tenderly, nipping your lips until you laugh into his mouth. “Perfect. At least to me.”

“Same,” you agree. “I’ve never felt more at home than when I’m with you.”

Jay responds by holding you tighter between his arms. He kisses the top of your head before whispering, “So where do we go from here?”

The answer is simple, but that doesn’t make it any easier to face.

Jay looks deeply into your eyes and senses the words you cannot say, and the strength of his stare and his arms as your protective walls from all the harm that still exists in this world gives you the power to confront what you need to.

That afternoon, leaving Jay in the lighthouse with your heart fully in his possession, you know you have to face the demons that wait for you in your childhood home. If you are to have a future together, the first thing you have to do is make peace with the past.

A handwritten note on the fridge tells you your mother went out for groceries, giving you the perfect excuse to release the words that would end your terror once and for all.

You enter your parents’ room to see your father, unmoved from the spot you saw him in on the first day you were back home. Your mother pleaded for you to check in every now and then now that you were back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not until now.

You move the chair by his bedside out to sit down. When you finally face him again, you take note of the details you were too blinded by indifference to notice before. You observe the wrinkles on his forehead, the sunken divots under his eyes, the age lines surrounding his mouth, the frailness of his body.

The weight he’s lost since his accident makes all his features stand out more. All that he’s lost, but has also always been, is on full display now: this husk of a man without the venomous words and bravado to hide behind is truly nothing to be scared of anymore.

“You’re so much smaller than I realized.” You say it with a breath of relief, any fear or anger that was left behind for him in your soul replaced with pity. You can walk away without regrets or words you wish you could’ve said, because you know now it’s a waste of your peace. Maybe one day, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive, even. Not today, but someday.

You walk away with no grievances left, back in the direction of the lighthouse with a new purpose and ready to take the path you were always meant to. Back to the home you’ve always had resting inside of the one you love.

Jay stands with his back facing you, staring off into the expanse of sea in front of him. His shoulders ease as you step closer.

“You’re back,” he says with saccharine happiness. He takes your hand in his and presses your fingers to his lips.

“I am,” you respond. You kiss him with your whole soul, incredibly in love and unafraid of what will come next.

“Babe! The new issue is here!”

You open your eyes to the sound of Jay’s words. You could barely doze off when he was so excited to grab the mail this morning. It was only delivered a few minutes ago, but of course he has to check for the newest spread of Otherworldly in your mailbox. To his happiness and your shy pride, your name’s plastered in almost every section of the photography credits.

Convincing your boss to let you work for the magazine from your hometown turned out to be easier than expected. With his happiness from your newfound inspiration, it seemed like you could take pictures of algae for all he cared and it would be a hit in the magazine’s eyes.

You weren’t the only one who could take credit, though. Jay’s name was also included in some of the photos, his insight into Aewol’s cuisine and new sous chef position at Park & Co providing more than enough influence for your photography. The lighthouse would always be his priority (aside from you), but his second love of food could not be kept at bay any longer.

He opens the magazine to the first page that features your photos, the centerfold being of Jay’s original recipe for hoedeopbap. “It looks even better in print,” Jay says, his face three shades brighter staring at the meal.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his middle, peeking your head out from the side of his shoulder to look at the pages. “It’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Some of the best you’ve ever done.” He turns in your hold to press your chest to his, kissing your forehead in the process. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Actually, getting lucky is how we got this.” You take his hand and rest it on the curve of your stomach, fifteen weeks peaking out from under the midriff of your tank top.

He laughs and presses his lips to your cheek. “I love you.”

To your surprise, peace was easier to find than you had expected. Confronting what you ran away from all those years ago feels like a distant memory, the pain of the past a part of another reality. There are no monsters that creep in the shadows or secrets to keep locked behind closed doors.

All that remains is the ease that comes from a life filled with nothing but love and happiness, as weightless and freeing as a lantern floating through the sky.

“I love you too, Park Jongseong.”

@junekissed (thank for beta-ing also june!! ilysm) @yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

#kvanity #svnet #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong smut #enha smut #jongseong smut #enha fic #enha fics #enhypen fics #enhypen fic #park jongseong fic #park jongseong fics #enha x reader #park jongseong scenarios

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padfootagain · 22 hours ago

Text

Love in Verses (XXV)

Chapter 25: ‘They will think of ways to make you smile so you can be happy for a while’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some embarrassing scenes for both our babies… it’s pretty cute! Also, Siobhán is back, hence the poem!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2247

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

A Friend

A person who will listen and not condemn Someone on whom you can depend They will not flee when bad times are here Instead they will be there to lend an ear They will think of ways to make you smile So you can be happy for a while When times are good and happy there after They will be there to share the laughter Do not forget your friends at all For they pick you up when you fall Do not expect to just take and hold Give friendship back, it is pure gold.

Gillian Jones

You were kissing him.

Hands in his hair, gently pulling, not enough to hurt, but enough to tug and make his brain short-circuit altogether.

Your lips left his for a moment, he blinked his eyes open, bending further to keep you close. You were in his arms, he was holding you against him, and you were bringing your lips to his ear, and it was divine, really, the feeling of you so close, your warm breath fanning over his cheek as you whispered.

“Andy, I want you…”

He held your face then, to bring your lips back to his, and you let him… and not only did you let him kiss you, you let him deepen that kiss, you kissed him back, you moaned into his mouth…

“I want you,” he whispered against your lips, breathing heavily, panting even. “God, you have no idea how much I want you, Y/N…”

You kissed again, both of you breathless while you struggled to walk across your living room, and all the way across your flat. You stumbled a little on the bed, both of you struggling to take your clothes off.

And suddenly there was so much skin to touch, to kiss, to gently bite on…

The way you sighed his name…

“Andy…”

He was kissing the skin of your thighs when you spoke his name again, louder this time.

“Andy.”

Your taste on his lips when you shouted, but it didn’t sound like a pleasurable cry…

“Andy!”

Andrew jumped up, startled, opening his eyes and falling onto the floor as the chair under him was pushed away by his rushed movements.

“Christ! Andy, you’re alright?”

He blinked, facing wooden tiles, a floor he recognised instantly…

“Andy?”

He looked up, following your voice. You were crouching by his side, fully dressed, in your black jeans and blue jumper, staring at him with worry in your eyes.

His eyes grew round.

He was at work. He had fallen asleep, he was in your office, in the same room as you while he dreamt of…

He sat up in a hurry, blushing to an extreme, looking anywhere but in your direction. Jesus… how could he ever look at you again…

His breathing was a mess, you stared at him with worried eyes, he knew you did, he could feel your gaze on him and the intention behind it.

“You’re okay? You look like you’re panicking…”

“I’m alright, sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, you just… you were dozing off. I should have been more… gentle, I guess, to wake you up.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 10 p.m.”

“Christ, we should go home anyway. Thank you for waking me.”

He was still doing his best to look away, to not make eye-contact with you…

… for now, he could see your eyes looking down on him while his tongue was…

“Well, if it makes you fall off your chair, that must have been some dream you were having,” you joked, unaware of how true your words were.

“Yeah,” he joked. “I don’t know, can’t remember to be fair.”

He was finally back on his feet, and you were standing too. You gave him a smile, again, he wasn’t looking at you but he could feel it. He could hear it in your voice too.

“You look flustered, Andy,” you chuckled.

He nervously rubbed at the back of his neck.

A lie, a lie, a lie… he needed to find a lie. He couldn’t tell you the truth, obviously, how he had dreamt of kissing you, of doing much more than simply kissing you…

He rested his hand on his desk for support, but when he looked as his own fingers, he could see them again touching your bare skin, picture them pleasuring you…

He cleared his throat, reached for his jacket.

“Yeah, well… I did fall asleep on the job and then made an arse of myself so…”

“Oh, Andy…”

Your voice was so soft, so filled with fondness that he had to look up at you.

“You truly are adorable when you blush, you know?” you said, and even though he guessed that there was teasing in your words, your voice sounded too genuine to feel this way.

You chuckled, embarrassed at your confession, it seemed. You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

And then you started laughing, trying to hide it behind your hand at first, but then you were gone in a fit of laughter.

“You…” you choked on your own words, brushing tears away, and your laugh was so infectious, Andrew started to chuckle as well. “You falling from your chair… was hilarious though… you just…”

You dramatically imitated his fall, making him explode with laughter too. You couldn’t stop laughing for a good five minutes, both of you holding your painful stomachs.

“You’re right though, let’s go home. It’s late, I’m exhausted… and we do have to do this all over again tomorrow.”

“My God… don’t mention that…” Andrew smiled, waiting for you to turn off your computer and put on your coat.

For once, he would have preferred to make a quick escape, so he could curse at himself all he wanted and let himself fully feel the unbearable weight of embarrassment that came with his fantasies; but it would have seemed strange, completely out of character and habits, and he didn’t want you to ask more questions.

He walked with you out of the empty building and all the way to your cars. You chatted about the classes you had the next day, the book he had just begun reading. It was so easy, talking with you, Andrew almost forgot his dream. He was only hit with the memory again when you turned to him to bid him good night, all grin and shiny smile, looking unbearably beautiful in the orange streetlights. He wanted to kiss you again then, and that’s when the images came back, how he imagined you lying in bed under him, moaning his name…

He cleared his throat, bid you good night and hurried to disappear into his car while he fiercely blushed again.

“Y/N!”

“SIOBHÁN!”

People looked at the two of you as you ran across the train station, falling into each other’s arms, but none of you cared. Your best friend was back for a week, you had so many things to say and do together!

You helped her with her luggage while you crossed the station, then the parking lot all the way to your car. Before going to your flat, you needed to drop by Trinity for a meeting with Lydia you couldn’t move around in your schedule. There would be a conference organised later this year, hosted by Trinity, and she needed to start planning some details with you. Lydia wanted you for a conference, even if she hadn’t asked you officially yet, it was obviously the reason behind that meeting. You were grateful already that she would include you as one of the main speakers.

So, you took Siobhán to Trinity, showed her your building, got a coffee with her before heading to your office. She had brought her laptop, wanted to get some work done while waiting for you. After all, no one was truly on vacation when doing an academic job…

You spent some time talking with Colm in the corridor leading to your office, and he greeted your friend with a joyous tone. You were surprised to learn that he knew about Siobhán’s work, and you were almost ready to leave them alone for the rest of the afternoon as they were enthralled in a discussion about their work, when the door to your office opened. You saw Andrew walking out, bending down to avoid the doorframe. He greeted you with a warm smile, one that turned shyer when he noticed your friend.

Meanwhile, you saw the way Siobhán was raising a surprised eyebrow at your colleague, the way she blinked a couple of times and let her eyes trail along his frame for a couple of seconds, before catching herself.

“Hi, Andy!”

Siobhán sent you a questioning look that silently asked ‘THIS is Andy?!’

“Hi,” he answered with a tender smile.

“I’m glad to bump into you! I wanted to introduce you to my good friend, Siobhán! She’s staying in Dublin for a week. This is Andrew,” you added as you turned to Siobhán, without any other explanation. After all, you talked about Andrew often… or maybe, all the time.

“That’s very nice to meet you,” Andrew spoke in his softest, quietest voice, the one he used when he was feeling particularly shy, or when he wanted to soothe people around him.

He offered your friend his open palm, and she shook his hand with a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you too! Y/N can’t stop yapping about you, you know?”

You nudged her in the ribs, but she barely noticed. Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, and yet you witnessed his expression turning into a smug one, almost cheeky.

“Does she now?” he asked, his tone teasing, and you hated your stupid heart for skipping a few beats at the light in his eyes, at how low and deep his voice sounded, at the hint of flirt in his tone…

“All the time. It’s exhausting!”

“Siobhán!” you complained, but your friend merely shrugged.

“Just telling the truth!”

“I only hope Y/N doesn’t tell too many bad things about me.”

“Nah, don’t worry! On the contrary!”

“Alright, we’ve got to go now, sorry! Weren’t you heading for a class, Andy?”

“I was, yeah…”

“Good…”

“But I can stay five more minutes if your friend can provide us with some terribly humiliating stories about you…”

“Ha, I’m afraid I can’t disclose such information to you, Andrew,” Siobhán replied.

“Really? Why not?”

“I have a feeling she would prefer to be more… attractive, to you.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow again, while your eyes were going as round as saucers.

“Bye, Andy,” you mumbled under your breath, grabbing Siobhán by the arm and dragging her inside your office while she waved at Andrew. You didn’t turn around to see his reaction, didn’t want to bear witness to your own humiliation…

You shut the door and locked it before turning to your friend, aghast.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Are you banging him?!”

“What?! Of course not! He’s a colleague! He’s a friend!”

“He’s so bloody hot, though, Y/N…”

“Siobhán!”

“I am only speaking the truth. You’re single. He’s single. You’re hot. He’s hot. It all comes together beautifully. And such a nice voice he has… so damn sexy…”

“I am not sleeping with Andy nor will I sleep with him in the future.”

“He likes you.”

You snorted.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied sarcastically.

“He does! Did you see the way he beamed at you? He’s into you.”

“He’s not.”

“He is!”

“He’s not!”

“But you are into him.”

You blinked, opened and closed your mouth a couple of times trying to think of something to say, of an argument to find… but there was nothing that could come out of your mouth for a long time. Too long for your next words to be believed by this woman who knew you better than yourself.

“I… am not! I’m not! Not at all!”

“Oh, yes… you are…”

“I am not! I… I’m trying to get Frank back!”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but you merely heaved a sigh.

“Sorry, I really do have to go to my meeting now, I’ll be back later.”

You left for your meeting, which turned into exactly what you had expected. You obviously accepted to be one of the speakers at the conference, and started planning a subject for your lecture.

Over an hour later, when you came back to your office, Andrew was chatting with Siobhán. You recognised his nervous laughter, the way he bent his shoulders a little to seem smaller and less intimidating. He was shy, but he seemed to genuinely get along fine with your friend, and for some reason, you felt a great feeling of pride run through you at the sight.

They both turned to you as you entered the room.

“So?” Andy asked, and you merely grinned at him. “Ha! I knew she would ask you to be one of the speakers!”

“Has she asked you yet?”

Andrew shook his head.

“I’ll apply, once we can officially do so.”

“Fingers crossed!”

He heaved a painful sigh.

“Christ, I hate those things…”

The three of you kept on chatting for a little while, but then Andrew was heading to another class, and you and Siobhán were going home. You had barely walked out of the building that your friend held onto your arm and leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“Christ, Andrew is so much better than Frank. I give the two of you my blessing!”

You rolled your eyes.

“There’s nothing between us!”

“There should be! You deserve someone better than Frank. Someone like Andrew. Someone who looks at you the way Andrew does.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned at her words.

She gave you a knowing look.

“Y/N… his eyes lit up every time I mentioned you. He was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon… the lad is a goner. Don’t waste your chance.”

You laughed at her, brushed it all off, told her she was mad and should stop talking nonsense. Andrew didn’t even like you. He couldn’t have…

… could he?

#hozier #the hoziest #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier fic #hozier professor au #hozier au #hozier fem!reader #professor au #au #fanfiction #series #hozier series #writing #fanfic

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m4rv3l-girl · 2 days ago

Text

Tactical

Bucky x Y/n

Y/n and Bucky aren’t friends. At all. But sometimes adrenaline pulls people together…

Requests are open!

Warnings: A pinch of paprika- I mean, angst.

The hum of the Quinjet was just loud enough to mask the weighty silence between the two of you. Bucky sat across from you, arms crossed, blue eyes set in a hard glare that had become his signature look—at least when he looked at you.

“Anything you wanna share, Doll?” he drawled, leaning back and tapping one gloved finger against the armrest.

You huffed, fixing your eyes on the tactical map in front of you. “I think I covered it twice already. We infiltrate the west side, look for anything that resembles a command room, and get out before we’re spotted.”

Bucky’s eyebrow arched. “Because it’s really that simple, isn’t it?”

“Look, Barnes,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “Not every mission needs the Winter Soldier’s grim paranoia. Some of us operate just fine without all the brooding and sneaking around.”

“Oh, really?” His smirk was infuriating. “Is that why you almost got taken out by a HYDRA goon last month?”

The reminder stung, and you clenched your jaw, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it affect you. “I took him down just fine, thank you very much.”

“Only after he had you pinned,” he shot back, his tone dark. “If I hadn’t been there—”

“You’d have missed the chance to play hero, right?” You crossed your arms and forced a half-smile. “Does it hurt your pride that I can handle things on my own, Kitten?”

His expression shifted, and you could have sworn he looked taken aback for a split second before he rolled his eyes. “You know, I’ve met a lot of reckless people. But you? You’re in a league of your own.”

Before you could shoot back, the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Five minutes out from target.”

You felt the adrenaline start to pump, the tension with Bucky simmering under the surface. But there was no time for bickering now. You both had a job to do.

The two of you slipped out of the jet, making your way down the dusty hillside that overlooked the HYDRA base. The place was deserted on the surface, a cluster of low buildings with faded insignias and the eerie quiet of a ghost town.

“Looks clear,” you muttered, scanning the area through the binoculars. “There should be an entrance at the west end, right behind that main building.”

Bucky nodded, keeping his gaze trained ahead, but his posture was stiff. “This whole thing feels off. I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you replied tersely. “But we have a job to do, remember?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he shot you a glare. “If you’re gonna keep talking, maybe aim that mouth at the target.”

You bit back a retort, inhaling sharply. Despite the irritation bubbling up inside, you reminded yourself to stay focused. “Fine. I’ll lead.”

“Over my dead body.” Bucky’s words came out harsh, yet there was a glint of something you couldn’t place in his eyes—concern? It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual guarded glare.

“Look,” you said, exasperated, “we’ve been through this before. I know what I’m doing.”

“Then prove it.” He gestured forward. “I’ll cover you.”

You were thrown by the sudden relent but didn’t waste time questioning it. Keeping low, you crept forward, Bucky right behind, your heart hammering in your chest as you approached the entrance.

The base was darker than expected, the air heavy with dust and the stale scent of metal and chemicals. A feeling of unease settled over you as you moved silently through the corridors, listening for any sign of movement.

“I’ll check the left side,” you whispered.

“No. Stick together,” Bucky replied, voice low and firm. “Can’t afford to lose sight of you.”

You bit back another snappy response, pushing down the slight warmth his words stirred up. “Fine,” you muttered, focusing on the task at hand. But as you reached a fork in the hallway, something metal clicked underfoot.

“Y/N—”

The floor dropped out before you had a chance to react. You barely registered Bucky’s hand reaching for you as you were plunged into darkness, a shock of cold air and the weightlessness of the fall hitting you all at once.

You landed hard, feeling a sharp sting in your ankle as Bucky’s form landed beside you with a thud. He was quick to his feet, helping you up even as you grimaced.

“Seriously?” he muttered, scanning the dark room with narrowed eyes. “A pit trap? They’ve really thought of everything.”

“Stop gloating and help me out of here, Barnes,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to test your injured foot. But the pain was blinding, and you leaned into him instinctively.

His grip tightened, his face softening ever so slightly. “Not gloating, Doll. Just pissed that we’re in this mess.” He looked down at your ankle, his jaw clenching. “You’re not walking on that. I’ll carry you out.”

You shook your head, wincing. “I can manage. Just give me a second.”

“Not gonna happen,” he replied, an unusual tenderness coloring his tone. Without waiting for you to argue, he scooped you up, one arm around your back and the other under your knees.

You let out a huff, but somewhere in the back of your mind, a part of you softened. The world looked different from this angle, cradled in his arms, his intense gaze focused ahead. You hadn’t realized how strong he was—not just physically but in how he held himself, unwavering even when things seemed grim.

And somehow, the closeness didn’t feel quite as irritating as you would have imagined.

The pit trap had deposited you both into some kind of hidden maintenance tunnel, its dim lighting casting everything in a cool, blue hue. Bucky’s footsteps were steady beneath you as he carried you through the narrow corridor, his grip unwavering even as you wiggled, trying to insist that you could walk.

“Would you stop squirming?” he muttered, his face half-lit in shadow.

You crossed your arms, huffing. “I told you I don’t need to be carried, Barnes. I’m fine.”

Bucky’s grip tightened as he shifted you slightly in his arms, his gaze never wavering from the path ahead. “Sure, you’re fine, Kitten. That’s why you nearly collapsed when you tried to put weight on that ankle.”

“I didn’t—” you started, but the way his eyes flicked down to you, that borderline-smirk on his lips, had you swallowing your words.

You kept your gaze forward, refusing to meet his eyes, and let the silence settle, if only because you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else. You tried to ignore the way his arms felt around you, sturdy and strangely comforting. There was a warmth radiating from him that made you feel oddly safe, a feeling you hadn’t anticipated finding with him. The “Winter Soldier” was the last person you would have expected to feel this around.

“We’ll be out of here soon,” he muttered as if sensing your unease, his tone softer than usual. “Then you can get back to calling the shots.”

The words, laced with his usual edge of sarcasm, had an undercurrent you couldn’t quite place. He shifted his hold on you just enough for you to feel the protective firmness in his grip, and somehow, it had you biting back a smile.

“Doesn’t look like there’s an easy way back up,” he added. “We’ll have to find another way around.”

“So,” you muttered, giving in just slightly to the warmth pooling in your chest, “you admit we’re a little stuck?”

He raised an eyebrow. “We? No, Doll. You’re the one who had to go left instead of sticking together.”

You scoffed. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

“Didn’t say that.” He gave you a slight smirk, his face close enough for you to notice a softness in his features that was usually hidden behind his intense stare. “I’m just saying, maybe you could try listening every once in a while.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, sure. Because you’re just so much fun to listen to.”

But the edge in your words had softened, and you felt your heartbeat quicken when his expression shifted, something warmer flickering behind the teasing smirk. The silence returned, charged and lingering.

Part 5: A Moment of Vulnerability

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky set you down gently on a raised portion of the tunnel floor. The pain in your ankle flared up when you shifted, and you winced, grabbing onto his arm before you could catch yourself.

His face was unreadable, but his hand remained firm on your shoulder. “Let me look at it.”

You hesitated, still feeling that simmering irritation. But there was something in his eyes—an unspoken plea for you to trust him—that made you relent. You nodded, and he crouched down, his fingers gentle as he pushed your pant leg up enough to examine the ankle. His touch was warm against your skin, a surprisingly careful caress as he probed the area.

“This is going to bruise,” he murmured. “But it doesn’t feel broken.”

“Good to know, Doctor Barnes,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm slipping into your tone. But his eyes flicked up to yours, that softness returning, and you felt your breath hitch.

“Why do you always do that?” he asked, voice quiet.

You frowned. “Do what?”

“Make everything a fight.” He shook his head, smirking faintly. “Even now, you’d rather act like you’re fine than just admit that you’re hurt.”

His words struck a nerve, and you shifted uncomfortably. “It’s called self-sufficiency, Barnes. Not all of us need a team to hold our hand.”

The faint smile on his lips faltered, and his gaze grew serious. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know.”

The weight of his words surprised you, their sincerity cutting through your defenses like a knife. You opened your mouth to retort, but found yourself at a loss. It was rare to see him like this—unguarded, almost vulnerable—and the realization that he cared, even a little, stirred something unfamiliar in you.

“Why do you care?” The question came out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper.

He held your gaze, his voice equally soft. “Because I know what it’s like to try to do everything on your own. It doesn’t end well, Doll.”

The air between you felt charged, and for once, you didn’t have a comeback ready. His hand lingered on your shoulder a moment longer, and you thought you saw him lean in, ever so slightly, before he cleared his throat and looked away.

“We should keep moving,” he muttered, pulling his hand back. He helped you to your feet, carefully supporting you as you tested your weight on the injured ankle. It wasn’t perfect, but with his steady grip around your waist, it was manageable.

As you continued down the tunnel, the silence was different—no longer tense, but comfortable in a way you hadn’t thought possible. There was a newfound understanding between you, fragile yet undeniable, that settled over the usual friction. It was like you’d seen a glimpse of each other without the walls up, and somehow, that was scarier than any HYDRA base you’d ever encountered.

The tunnel eventually led to a service door that opened into the heart of the HYDRA base. You both fell into a natural rhythm, Bucky keeping one hand steady on your arm as you limped beside him. The adrenaline from your mission kept the pain manageable, though you found yourself more aware of the way his shoulder brushed against yours, his steady presence beside you grounding and reassuring.

The corridor opened into a spacious, dimly lit room—likely a command center, judging by the rows of consoles and monitors lining the walls. It was empty now, with only the faint hum of machinery disturbing the silence.

Bucky pulled you back, his voice low. “This looks like what we need. You watch the entrance; I’ll search the terminals.”

You nodded, positioning yourself by the door as Bucky moved silently to the consoles. He slid a flash drive from his pocket, inserting it into one of the main systems and working quickly to upload whatever information SHIELD needed. For the first time, you found yourself watching him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, surprised by his focus and ease in the enemy stronghold.

A loud clang echoed from down the hall, snapping you back to attention. Your heart leapt as you spotted shadows moving, HYDRA agents closing in.

“Bucky—”

“I know,” he muttered, eyes darting to the flash drive’s slow-loading progress bar. “We need a few more seconds.”

The footsteps grew louder, voices murmuring just outside the door. You moved instinctively, pressing your back against the wall, one hand on your gun as Bucky finally retrieved the drive.

“Got it,” he said, turning to you. His eyes flicked between you and the door, his expression hardening. “Get behind me. I’ll clear a path.”

Despite everything in you that screamed to resist, you felt a surge of trust and nodded. You took your place at his back, leaning slightly on your good leg as he readied his gun, his stance calm and sure.

The agents burst through the door, and Bucky moved like lightning. He took down the first two with precise, calculated strikes, his metal arm glinting in the dim light as he blocked blows and countered with swift punches. The tension and focus between the two of you was perfect, synchronized—he was a constant, unwavering force, covering you as you fired at the agents attempting to flank him.

But as the last agent fell, one final man staggered to his feet, pulling a weapon from his belt—a grenade, small but deadly.

You reacted without thinking, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and shoving him to the side as you dove away. The explosion rocked the room, and debris rained down around you. Pain bloomed along your shoulder as you hit the ground, hard, but you were alive. Bucky scrambled over to you, his face pale, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fury.

“Are you insane?” he hissed, his hands shaking as he helped you sit up. “You could have—”

His words cut off as he saw your grimace, and his anger melted into something raw, a kind of vulnerability that left you momentarily speechless.

“I—I’m fine,” you managed, your voice weak but steady. “Just wanted to save your sorry ass, is all.”

Bucky let out a choked laugh, but the way his gaze lingered on you was anything but casual. “Doll, if you were trying to kill me with worry, mission accomplished.”

You gave a wry smile, trying to shift to a sitting position, but he stopped you, one hand bracing your back as he helped you up. His fingers lingered just a second too long, and he seemed to realize it, pulling back with a sheepish look.

“C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s get out of here before either of us does anything else stupid.”