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babymetaldoll · 4 years ago

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The morning after (Spilling drinks on my settee part 2) Spencer Reid/Reader

Requested: Yes! it’s my first request! thank you, anon!!

Prompt: Hungover Spencer has to face Reader after she caught him drunk, puking outside her house. He also has to face Morgan’s teasing after he confessed he was in love with Reader.

Pairing: Spencer/Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff

Word count: 1,9K

Part one here

Masterlist

If it had been up to Spencer, he would have never left his bed that day. As soon as he opened his eyes, the headache that hit him made him realize that was going to be a long day. A long and shitty day.

He sat on his bed slowly ‘cos the whole room was spinning. He was still fully dressed, why? There was puke on his shoes and pants… and a Gatorade on his nightstand? He was confused, he didn’t leave that there, right? no… maybe? he didn’t really remember. Why was he still dressed? he didn’t remember. How did he get home? he didn’t remember

- “Shit!”

Until he did.

There was a flash of embarrassment, guilt, and nausea on his face, suddenly it was all coming back.

- “Shit!”

That was the only word Spencer could use. He had gotten drunk, confessed to Morgan he was in love with (Y/N), he had actually tried to…

- “Shit!”

Maybe alcohol had managed to unplug a part of Reid’s brain, ‘cos apparently, “shit” was the only thing he was able to pronounce, at least for a few minutes.

All the embarrassing memories of the night before kept coming back to his mind, they were fragments of someone else’s life he was watching from outside. It was all too humiliating. (Y/N) saw him puking outside her house. He was outside her house ‘cos he wanted to know why she had been out on a date with a guy from a dating website. He had told Morgan he loved her, and nearly cried.

Spencer Walter Reid was doomed, and he knew it. It was going to take a lot of courage, patience, and Gatorade to go through that day.

His cellphone kept buzzing, but once he realized it wasn’t a case, but (Y/N) and Morgan trying to reach him, he ignored it the whole subway ride to work. He couldn’t even read, his brain wasn’t working, he couldn’t concentrate at all. He just wanted to disappear forever. What had he done? how could he ever face (Y/N) after what happened? And what if Morgan had already told everyone what happened? of course he had, Reid thought, and his red cheeks were now purple.

Humiliation was written across his face and his stomach tightened as he set foot into the bullpen. He took a quick look around and sighed relieved. Apparently, there was no one else there yet, the whole place seemed empty, although there was a fresh cup of coffee with extra sugar on his desk, a grilled cheese sandwich, and a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles.

That could only mean one thing.

- “Hey, how are you feeling this morning?”- Spencer froze in panic and turned around very, very slowly. His heart was beating so fast, he was sure (Y/N) could listen to it. She was waving at him with a shy smile on her face. She didn’t look mad, or uncomfortable. She looked… worried.

- “H… he… hey, (Y/N)-” he stuttered and waved. He knew he had to say something- anything- but nothing seemed to come to mind. He was literally speechless.

- “How are you feeling?”

- “G… g… good, I’m good, I’m ok”- Spencer wanted to slap himself. He was humiliated already, but his behavior wasn’t making it any better. He had to put his shit together somehow.

- “I’m glad”- she sighed relieved, rubbing his arm sweetly, and her touch made him shiver right away. He tried to smile at her, but he was left speechless again. It was a painful scene to see.

- “I was worried sick, you didn’t pick up your phone earlier”- Reid just nodded and looked down.

- “I got you the best recipe to cure your hangover, coffee of course, and I filled half the cup with sugar, just the way you like it”- the way (Y/N) stuck out her tongue and giggled, hypnotized him.

- “I made you a grilled cheese sandwich, I don't know how many times you've woken up feeling like shit after a party, but I'm pretty sure I’ve got a lot more experience than you, and greasy food always helps me coming back to life.”

Spencer nodded, trying to follow the conversation, but his brain was still malfunctioning and his head was pounding sharp and heavy.

- “And your favorite donut 'cos you need extra sugar”

- “Thanks”- his voice was a sweet whisper. (Y/N) looked at him worried and rubbed a hand on his arm gently again.

- “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck happened last night?”- the painful grimace on Spencer's face was enough.

- “I'm just worried something bad happened to you “

- “No, no, no”- he shook his head frenetically and regretted the movement immediately. His head was killing him- “I just couldn't handle my drinks, that's all.”

- “Are you sure?”- lying to profilers could be the hardest thing on earth.

- “Yeah, yeah”

- “Good, I was worried you were going to call in sick…”- there was a short silence between them, they just stared at each other and sighed.

(Y/N) couldn’t stop thinking he had called her “Buttercup” and didn’t know how to ask him to do it again, and again, every day. And Reid had no idea what to do next. So he just said the first thing that came to mind.

- “Did you know hangovers are estimated to cost $148 billion each year due to hangover individuals calling in sick to work or performing poorly on the job.”

- “Pretty boy!!”

Derek’s voice walking over them made Spencer’s heart stop in fear, he just waved at his friend with his less expressive smile - the one (Y/N) called “frog face”- and just prayed to whatever god that might exist, that Morgan wouldn’t embarrass him more than he was already.

- “How are you feeling today, kid?”

- “I’m ok, thanks”

- “You are lucky there’s no case, yet”- Dr. Reid nodded and looked around, trying to find a way to run away from Morgan and (Y/N).

- “Nice breakfast”

- “I thought he was going to need extra energy today”- the young woman smiled proudly- “And when are you going to explain to me what happened last night? why did you let him get that drunk?”

Morgan knew (Y/N) was going to be mad at him, so he just looked at Spencer and waited to see if he had made up any lie already

- “I… I told you, I just couldn’t keep up with Derek”

- “Yeah”- his friend immediately supported his lie. Which wasn’t a complete lie- “I pushed Reid to drink at my pace, and I guess pretty boy ain’t ready to drink like a man.”

On a regular day, Spencer would have hated that last comment, ‘cos he was sick and tired of his friend treating him like a toddler. But under those circumstances, he just nodded and tried to stay calm.

- “And why were you outside my house?”

- “We were looking for a cab, started walking… and Reid remembered you live close to the bar”- Spencer’s eyes opened wide at those words- “And he wanted to stop by.”

- “No I didn’t”- Reid knew he would lose in a fight with Derek, but he was willing to give it a try and punch him if that successfully stopped him from talking.

- “Kid, you were drunk, you don’t remember, but you wanted to stop by and see (Y/N)”- the girl looked at Reid and bit her lips

- “Is that so? you got drunk and started thinking of me?”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He felt his hands shaking, so he hid them in his pockets and tried to come up with anything, literally anything to say. But he had nothing.

- “Yes, pretty boy wanted to see you…”- Morgan just smiled, tapped on Spencer’s back, and walked away chuckling. He knew Reid needed a push to open up to (Y/N). Maybe this was what he needed.

- “Why did you think of me?”- (Y/N) was now intrigued and excited. Drunk Reid was a whole new side of her friend, and the fact he had dragged Derek to her house when he was intoxicated gave her a little hope. Maybe he liked her too, the way she was head over feet for him.

- “I…”- Spencer was chocking with words, he turned around, grabbed the coffee, and took a sip of it.

- “You?”

- “I don’t remember”- disappointment was written all over (Y/N)’s face. They just stared. Spencer drank his coffee and the girl simply sighed.

- “I see”- he could read there was something there, but he didn’t want to get his hopes high. He was sure (Y/N) could never feel the same way he did. Right?

- “Can I ask you something?”- he whispered- “Why didn’t you tell me about the dating website?”

Now (Y/N) was embarrassed. She couldn’t take her eyes from her friend’s as she kept thinking about what to say. How to lie?

- “It wasn’t important, Prentiss forced me, I didn’t want to do it”- she simply confessed and smiled- “Why?”

- “I don’t know, it was weird, I thought… well…”

- “You know I tell you everything important”- (Y/N) wanted to make sure Spencer understood that the date had meant nothing.

- “And… are you planning to do it again?”

- “Never”- the smile on her lips was so honest, Spencer’s heart was relieved- “So, tomorrow’s Saturday, got any plan?”- those words, they were music for his ears.

- “Actually, there is a Russian horror movie festival tomorrow night, they’ll be showing Solaris, Viy, and Lyumi”

- “Original Russian, I presume”

- “But this time I’m pretty sure there will be subtitles”- (Y/N) pouted disappointed.

- “Bummer, I like when you have to translate the whole movie for me”- and she meant it, having Reid whispering every word in her ear for two hours was the closest she had been to heaven in her entire life. The young doctor chuckled with a huge grin and turned to his desk again.

- “Usually, translation doesn’t represent the intention behind the dialog…”- Reid was full of it and he knew it, but he had nothing to lose and lot to win- “So if you want, I can still whisper the English version for you”.

Those last words left his lips as quickly as possible, ‘cos he was embarrassed.

- “Then it’s a date”- her smile was bigger than imagined when she turned around and started walking to her desk.

Was it a date? why did she say that? Reid tried to stay cool and not overthink everything, but it was Reid, which meant it was hard, nearly impossible. Overthinking was his thing.

He wanted to go out on a date with (Y/N), but… was that actually a date? what if he brought flowers for her and she didn’t mean “date” as a date but just as two friends going out together? that would be mortifying.

(Y/N) didn’t know if Spencer had thought she wanted it to be a real date. She did, she just didn’t know if she was asking or if he had or…

Yes, they were both excellent overthinkers.

- “Hey, honey”- if she was already embarrassed and anxious about using the word “date”, she could always make it worst.

Spencer turned to look at her he took a bite of his sandwich.

- “It was really sweet last night when you called me Buttercup”- Reid nearly choked. He had completely forgotten about it, and suddenly he felt the urge to run and hide. But he couldn’t even move. He couldn’t even swallow the food he was chewing

- “You had never called me by a nickname before…”- she bit her lips and took a deep breath- “I loved it… in case you want to use it again.”

Spencer nodded and watched his best friend walk away to get herself a coffee. He could feel someone else’s eyes on him from across the office. Morgan winked at him and nodded.

- “Nice, kid”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #dr. spencer reid #requested #fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, pegging, anal play, rimming, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, jk being a good good boy, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, bath sex, ageplay/DDlg, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, spanking, creampie, aftercare in both cases

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and jk’s ass

DAY EIGHTEEN

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

“Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? I don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to...?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the bed either in impatience or the effort it takes not to touch himself. Hyper-aware of the appendage that dangles in front of you, and how slippery your hands currently are, you imagine hunkering on the bed without using your hands probably isn’t a very sexy look, so instead you stand to the side of the mattress and instruct him to come to you.

He does so with obvious enthusiasm and anticipation. The earlier haze of his orgasm dissipating, his eyes are alert and his lips are stretched in an unconscious grin. Splayed out on his back, legs dangling on either side of your hips, Jungkook looks so content to hand over his dominance to you that your heart swells slightly at the sentiment of it.

Clearly Jungkook isn’t feeling as soft as you. On the contrary, his cock looks so hard it must be physically hurting him, the tip weeping precum onto his belly as he arches his back to entice you. “Please, Y/n,” he whines, hitching a foot up onto the edge of the mattress to bare himself more fully. “Gukkie needs it.”

Though it’s more your own hesitation rather than any desire to make him beg for it, you can’t deny that the sweet entreating voice is music to your ears and core, and pushing aside all worries you find yourself guiding his opposite leg up with a slippery hand, before lining your synthetic cock against Jungkook’s rim.

Immediately, before you even enter him, he keens, and although you can’t literally feel him rocking back towards it, you watch it catch on the muscle and begin to slip inside, and the resistance can be felt as a pressure against your pelvis where the base of the dildo is fastened.

“De-deeper,” Jungkook makes out with a gasp, his fingers reaching up to clutch at your wrist, and you push past the resistance to drive the dildo inside him, slowly but smoothly. His breath hitches, back lifting off the bed as his body tries to process the intrusion, and instinctively - a word you wouldn’t typically associate with domming - you grip onto his waist to hold him still.

Though your palms and fingers are still slick with lube, you manage to keep them steady on his skin by slightly digging your nails in. Jungkook’s mouth parts in a gulped moan, and you feel the pressure in front of your crotch suddenly increase as he stiffens.

“Green?” you check in quickly, so quick to fear the worst.

Jungkook is even quicker to dispel your worries. “Green, fuck, harder, please,” he babbles, shifting as much as he can under you to spread his legs wider in invitation.

You let out a breath of relief but pair it with a snapped thrust to mask it as exertion. Jungkook lets out a cry of pleasure that sounds more like a hiccup, his body rocking on the bed with the force of it.

It’s hard to tell how intense or rough your thrusts are when all you have is his response and the feeling of the leather base pressing against you to go off, so once you start to fuck him in earnest, you’re sure to pay close attention to him.

Not that you’d otherwise be apathetic by any means. Whether his beautiful reactions are a skill learnt from camming or he began camming because of his reactions, you don’t know, but you think watching him like this could never get old.

His hair’s splayed back on the pale grey duvet like a dark halo, red hot streaks highlighting just how long the strands have gotten. His eyes, when he manages to open them, glitter like constellations and plead like puppy eyes. Though he has the bone definition of a god, gravity works against the strong lines and puffs up his cheeks instead, making him look small and sweet.

With lips so pretty and swollen, he pouts and whines and pleads, teeth poking out to nibble at the pinked flesh when the dildo hits his prostate and he muffles a whine.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to find a rhythm. Though you’re certainly inexperienced in the art of fucking someone else, it’s really a very natural motion to make your hips rock up against him. Albeit tiring, you find yourself able to pick up the pace until he’s writhing under your hands, his own nails scratching at the meat of his thighs with the restraint it takes not to touch himself.

Taking mercy on the poor thing, you lift one knee up on the bed to give yourself sufficient momentum to drop one of your hands from pinning him down and wrap it instead around his cock, doing your best to time your strokes together.

Jungkook lets out a low keen and goes stiff, back in a violent arch. “Fu-uck,” he cries, and his face would almost look scrunched up in pain if you didn’t know better, the poor camboy overwhelmed by finally being touched there.

“Does that feel good, Gukkie? Am I fucking you good?”

He nods hastily, bottom lip trembling as your thrusts don’t let up for a second. “Suh-so good to Gukkie,” he confirms in a wobbly voice, “please fuck Gukkie harder!”

Quickly tiring, you don’t know if you even can, but you engage your core like it’s a workout and speed up your hips, the insistent rub of the leather over your pussy lips and clit actually beginning to tighten a coil of pleasure low in your belly.

“Yes,” Jungkook wails when he feels the dildo spearing him quicker and quicker. You use your thumb to press at his slit, dripping precum in obscene amounts as he sobs and bucks between your hand and your fake cock.

Once his thighs start to tremble violently and he can’t seem to take in a full breath, you know he’s close. Steeling yourself for the final lap, you ignore the rub of the leather and the pressure of the dildo base against your pelvis, and focus fully on Jungkook and bringing him to a second powerful orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I wanna see you cum again,” you request, punctuating it with a squeeze of his cock to make him cry out.

Such a polite boy, he composes himself enough to answer. “Baby’s so close,” he whines. “Gukkie can cum?”

You smile fondly even with gritted teeth from exertion, glad his eyes are scrunched shut with pleasure so he can’t see you melt for him. “Gukkie can cum, baby.”

You make good on your promise for him to feel so good he cries when he reaches that high shortly after receiving permission. Tears spilling over his cheeks, his moan comes out strangled but stuttered and airy at the same time, almost like he’s giggling at the feeling that overcomes him. Barely anything comes out of his cock, already milked from the first orgasm, but his body is wracked with sensation and his lips are stretched in a dopey grin, struggling to catch his breath.

If you were a meaner - or fitter - dom perhaps you’d fuck him past the point of oversensitivity, but as it is, you quite happily come to a stop buried deep inside him, lazily stroking his cock as it softens until he hisses at the contact.

Using the duvet to wipe away the last of the lube and cum off your hands, you lean forward and cup this cheeks to brush the tears away and press a kiss to the button of his nose.

He shivers happily, lashes fluttering, and lets out a hum. “Thank you for taking care of Gukkie,” he whispers, before wincing slightly and correcting- “taking care of me. Sorry, I tend to do that when I’m-”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reply easily, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, tasting the salt of his tears as he giggles again at the tickling feeling. “Did you enjoy it, baby?”

Jungkook lets out a breathless chuckle, chest still heaving. “Fuck, like you wouldn’t believe,” he jibes, throwing a hand over his eyes and heated cheeks when you pull away. “But really; thank you.”

You slip the dildo out of him carefully, hearing him make a low noise in his throat as his hole flutters, empty. Rubbing his thigh comfortingly with one hand - if you knew one thing from being on the show, it was that you needed to shower Jungkook in aftercare now - you unfasten the strap-on carefully with your other. “You don’t have to thank me. I had fun too.”

The crook of his elbow lifts just slightly to expose the glint of his eyes, disbelieving. “You did?”

You beam warmly. “Definitely. You’re so fun to play with, Gukkie,” you praise, “plus, I feel like getting a new perspective has been really enlightening, you know?”

“Ah,” he muses, “entertaining and educational. I’m glad my ass served you well.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of your throat; the quip a clear sign that Jungkook is returning from that hazy, contented plane of subspace you’ve grown used to. “Better put that on your CV.”

Jungkook sits up, affronted. Two fat drops of cum run down his stomach, quickly drying out once they spread over his skin. “My ass has been listed on my CV as a skill for years, Y/n, I’m not an amateur.”

“Oh, a professional ass man,” you tease, sighing at the release of pressure once the strap-on harness falls off your hips and to the ground, leaving your lower half bare. “Is that why you got on the show, huh?”

The camboy pouts. “I got on for many reasons,” he insists, “I’m very qualified, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you return immediately, and pause. “Fuck. We were meant to be bantering but I’ve just been complimenting you, haven’t I?”

He nods like it was intentional. “Yet another one of my skills.”

“You’re impossible,” you sigh, but even when he convinces you to join him in the shower, the conversation between you flows without a hitch, and your fondness for the boy only grows.

In retrospect, you probably could’ve worked out Namjoon’s prompt based on how he treats you that dinner.

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, but you’re so hungry from earlier that you barely notice the signs. It’s not uncommon for the guys to pile food on your plate, but Namjoon’s repeated insistence of feeding you directly perhaps should’ve been the first flag.

The way he fills your glass of water for you, ruffles your hair, continuously calls you little… Yeah, you blame Yoongi’s delicious fish cutlet and rice meal for not paying enough attention.

Luckily for you - or perhaps for him - an opening appears when you’re cleaning up the table with Taehyung and accidentally fumble a small dish of dipping sauce all over your hands and front.

Immediately, Namjoon as at your side, taking the ceramics out of your hand and tsking gently. “Oh, love, that’s no good,” he coos in a low timbre, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty.”

You could just offer to go rinse your hands off in the sink and change shirts, but you’re wired up from fucking Jungkook without your own release - the camboy was so chipper at dinner that everyone had surely cottoned on - and so a better idea comes to mind. “It’s running down my sleeve,” you offer with a faux pout, “I’ll probably need a shower to get it all off. Care to join me?”

Namjoon’s brows lift as he surreptitiously ensures no one else is in earshot. With a hand on the small of your back, he leans in and presses his lips against your ear. “How about Daddy gives you a bath, baby girl?”

You suck in a breath, nerves alighting. Oh. You can work with this. Straightening up, you latch onto his shirt sleeve near the cuff and soften your eyes. “Only if you take one with me,” you bargain, “I’m only little, Daddy.”

He pulls back quickly, and were it not for the hot flares of lust in his eyes, it would almost seem like he’d been shocked. “Go to your bedroom then, love,” he instructs, “and no running on the stairs.”

Of course you aren’t really an impulsive child but, as it is, his command is actually difficult to follow. The urge to clamber up them as fast as you can, knowing you’re finally going to get fucked good, is hard to suppress.

You manage, however, and soon enough Namjoon’s in the bathroom with you, filling the tub. As you wait, toes wiggling against the cool tile in excitement, he unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve.

“Okay, clothes off, kitten,” he instructs, hunkering over the edge of the tub to dip a hand in up to the forearm, checking the temperature and stirring up the water, “it’s just about ready.”

You obey, tossing your clothes in a growing pile in the corner. Though it’s no bubble bath, he has drizzled some body wash in to give it a comforting scent, floral and sleepy like ylang ylang. When he pulls his arm out, there’s a ring of suds, and spots of water have already gotten onto his shirt. “You’ve gotta hop in too, Daddy,” you point out, smirking when Namjoon visibly falters at the title.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he confirms, shucking off his shirt and pants, “get in first, kitten, it’s all ready.”

The water is divine, a blooming heat that seeps down to your bones, warming you to the core. You immediately see your skin start to pinken, but the water isn’t unbearably hot, and it’s a pleasant flush.

The heat below contrasts with the cool air on your upper back and shoulders, causing you to shiver, but before you can complain you feel the water level rise, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around you from behind.

As you let him lean you back against his chest, you feel his hardness, but neither of you feel the need to comment on it. This is a porn show, and you’re going to fuck soon, sure, but for now there’s nothing better than a hot bath.

“Give me your hand, let’s clean this sticky sauce up, huh?” It isn’t until Namjoon begins to soap up a loofah and delicately scrub away at the black trails of dipping sauce that have run down your arms that you realise just how fantastic this prompt is. If you played your cards right, Namjoon would take care of you and pamper you all evening, fuck you silly, and then presumably put you to bed like a good Daddy. Holding your hands out obediently, you’re quite content to oblige.

“Sit up, kitten,” the academic commands softly with a press to your shoulder. Once the skin of your arms is unmarred again, Namjoon dips the loofah in the chest-level water, pulls it out dripping suds and water, and laves it over your back, making you sigh at the warmth. “Feels nice, hm?”

Your lips stretch in a lazy smile as you recall asking that very question yourself just earlier today. As much as you had fun domming Jungkook, and wouldn’t be averse to switching things up - quite literally - again, there’s no denying that your soul really sings when you’re the one being taken care of, played with, and pleasured. “Really nice, Daddy.”

The loofah gets dipped again, this time sliding over your chest and stomach. Letting your eyes slip shut at the relaxing treatment, Namjoon’s low timbre washes over you just like the aromatic suds of body wash. “I’m glad,” he coos, “I like taking care of you. You’re too little to do it all yourself, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s help?”

“Too little,” you parrot sleepily, “need Daddy.” With every word, with every touch of his large hands on you, you truly begin to feel little. Curling your toes against the base of the tub, you make a low noise in your throat and lean back against his chest again, head lolling back over his shoulder. “Will you give me a kiss, Daddy?”

He smiles at your entreating plea and wide eyes, eyes like crescent moons as he dips his head and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “All better now?” he checks as he sits the sopping loofah on the side of the bath.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I’m not all clean yet, Daddy.”

“You aren’t?” he asks with mock surprise, dimple deepening and brows lifting. “Well, that’s no good, is my kitten still dirty somewhere?”

With a single decisive nod, you grab his hand and lead it down until the tips of his fingers brush your folds. “Daddy didn’t clean here, ‘s still dirty.”

You let out a blissful sigh when he cups you, middle finger curling up to barely dip inside you. Namjoon grins. “In here?” Rather than wait for your answer, he smoothly pushes it deeper, massaging at your inner walls. “Alright, kitten, just close your eyes and let Daddy finish cleaning you up.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes flutter shut again, head comfy in the crook of his neck and shoulder. You could get used to this.

He doesn’t tease you, but nor does he fingerfuck you with intensity or vigor. It’s methodical and diligent, like he really is cleaning you out. One finger quickly becomes two, and his other arm winds around your waist on the other side to roll your sensitive clit, making you moan softly.

Raring to go from unfulfilled pleasure that morning, your nerves go into overdrive, a building wave growing quickly in your belly. When Namjoon adds a third finger, crooking them inside you thoroughly to stroke your g-spot, it takes less than a minute for you to fall apart, thighs clenching tight around his hands.

He works you through it, only stopping when you whimper from oversensitivity, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering unhappily again when he pulls his fingers out and you’re left empty.

“You’re all clean now, kitten,” Namjoon states, running his palms over your inner thighs to relax them. “Time to get out.”

You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But Daddy!”

Narrowing his brows, you don’t miss the slight twitch of Namjoon’s lips at your sudden outburst. “No buts,” he reproaches, “I don’t want you pruning up.”

You huff, scowling when he deftly tugs out the plug and the water level steadily sinks. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, Da-mmf!”

Namjoon sends you a cutting glare, his strong hand cupped over your mouth. “I should wash your mouth out with soap for using that language, little one,” he warns, “now out of the bath.”

You whine behind his hand, but once he drops it you obey and scramble out of the quickly-draining tub. Your body feels heavier without the buoyancy of water, and you’re dripping onto the bathmat like a drowned rat, but Namjoon pays it no mind, getting out himself with powerful thighs and a heavy cock dangling between them, passing you a towel wordlessly.

You dry yourself off, pout never leaving your face. He’s really just gonna stay hard like that and not fuck you? “Daddy…”

“One more protest and I’m taking you over my knee,” Namjoon says with a sharp tone. “I thought my kitten was better behaved than this.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how you can get what you want without using vulgar words. Then again, perhaps making him punish you would rile him up enough to fuck you, and you certainly weren’t against some spanking. Sucking a breath in to establish some resolve, you stomp your foot on the bathmat. “You’re so mean, Daddy!”

Namjoon gapes at you, the way you’re bundled in a towel from your chin to your knees, scowling at him. “You want it, don’t you?” he mutters quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Relaxing for a moment, he slips easily back into that position of authority. “That’s it,” he spits, taking you firmly by the wrist and leading you - still naked himself - into your bedroom, “I gave you plenty of warnings but you still won’t listen.”

You squeak as he rips the towel from you and tugs you onto his lap on the edge of the bed. Adjusting you so that your crotch is right above his aching erection, his legs are so long that your toes barely brush on the carpet, all your balance resting on him. This had been the roughest he’d ever been with you, or at least the most domineering, and your mind whirls with how much he’s coming into his element with this prompt.

He gives you no warning before he’s laying his hands on your ass, small pats to warm up the skin before a sudden, stinging strike laces your nerves. You cry out, wriggling in his grip, but he uses one broad hand to link your wrists together in the small of your back, your face pressed onto the mattress as you’re held up fully by him.

He’s carefully merciless, spanking you hard enough that it burns, tears pricking your eyes and lip swollen from when you bite it, but whenever your cries of pain and pleasure turn too much to genuine discomfort, you notice he gives you an extra second of reprieve and swaps out to lighter hits.

“Apologise to Daddy,” he commands gruffly as you sob beneath him, swatting you without pause.

You sniff and swallow before you can compose yourself enough to reply in a wobbly cry, knees buckling and trembling. “Suh-sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry, I learnt my lesson, ple-ease!”

You could cry when you feel his hand land on you one last time, soft and soothing the stinging flesh. Namjoon shifts, and then you feel light kisses being pressed all the way from your reddened ass up your spine, making you shiver. “Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, and gently sits you up, lying you on the mattress.

You hiss when you feel the fabric scratch at your skin, but it’s cool and soothing if you stay still, so you take deep breaths and feel your heart slowly return to normal, Namjoon running his fingers over your now-dry body.

Blinking up at him with what you hope are sweet puppy-dog eyes, you call his name softly to bring his attention to your face. “Are you really not gonna, you know…?”

He grins fondly at your attempt to evade the word fuck, silver hair flopping over his brow as he leans over you. “You took your punishment so well kitten, I think you deserve a reward, hm? Some special time with Daddy?”

You light up, sucking on your lower lip as you spread your legs to bare yourself shamelessly, hooking one foot around his waist so he’s between them. “Extra special time with Daddy,” you insist in a small voice, lip curling now that you’re finally going to get what you want.

With a light laugh, Namjoon centres himself so that he’s facing you head-on, your legs comfortably resting aside his hips. Stroking himself a few times, he taps his hard length against your already-swollen pussy lips. “Relax for me, kitten,” he guides, and you keen as you feel him begin to push inside you.

You try to stop yourself from clenching around him, but it’s been a while since you’ve fucked him, and as usual the biggest cock in the house takes getting used to. “So big, Daddy,” you breathe with a groan, brows pinched together at the stretch.

“You can take it, kitten, you’re doing so well for me,” Namjoon promises, holding you steady and open with a hand hooking your knee up high by his chest.

By the time he’s bottomed out, hips flush against your still-stinging ass, you feel so deliciously full that you can’t breathe. You lay back, eyes scrunched, and focus entirely on the feeling of his girth stretching you open.

“Feels good?” Namjoon checks in, and you nod, wriggling your hips against him to indicate he can move. “Hold on tight, then.”

Even though it’s barely been a day since you were last fucked, it feels like so much longer, and having Namjoon fill you up over and over is so satisfying on a deep level, that you don’t bother muffling your moans, letting yourself clutch at his arms and enjoy the ride.

While Namjoon certainly isn’t the most lithe or experienced member, his cock is a force of nature in and of itself, and this time, with the heat of desperation and the excitement of your altered dynamic getting to him, he fucks you without holding back.

If he’s like this on his third time, you think, he’ll be a beast before the show ends, but then the head of his cock strikes right against your g-spot, and the thought shatters as a cry is ripped from your throat.

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

He obliges you by adjusting his hips so that every stroke rubs against you just right, and your mind melts, colours and sounds and sensation blurring together in one full note of all-encompassing pleasure.

You cum without warning, not expecting it yourself, and Namjoon curses lowly in his throat as you clench around him. The orgasm is powerful enough to leave you shuddering hopelessly on the bed before going fully slack, drained.

Warm, fuzzy tingles settle in your fingers and toes and chest in the aftermath as Namjoon fucks you through it, not taking long himself to spill inside you. He drops your leg to the side and leans in, pressing slightly ticklish kisses to your neck and collarbone, hands on either side of your chest to keep his weight off you.

“So good to me,” he breathes out lowly, nuzzling your chin up to give him a better angle to sweetly kiss you on the lips, languid and unhurried as he slowly comes down from his own high.

This time when he pulls out of you and you’re left empty again, you don’t complain, too thoroughly fucked to do anything but let out a contented sigh. Namjoon cleans you up, apologising when oversensitivity makes you twitch at the slightest contact, and then washes up himself.

Just as you feel your mind lifting out of that mental space of feeling little, sitting up a bit on his bed and trying to work out if you’d be able to make it to your dresser to put on some pyjamas, Namjoon returns and does it for you, helping you slip into a baggy t-shirt that you like to use as a nightie.

“Are you going to stay?” you ask softly as he lowers the hem over your head, arms slotting through the holes.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon counters with an edge of hesitation, scratching lightly at his opposite arm, still naked.

You nod, patting the bed beside you. “If you don’t mind.”

Namjoon gathers his clothes and slips them on, not really appropriate for sleeping. Once he sees your look of confusion, he tilts his head towards your bedroom door. “I’m just going to duck out for some comfier clothes for sleeping, are you going to be alright for a moment?”

By the time he’s come back, you’ve already quickly brushed your teeth - hobbling to and from your bathroom like a newborn deer - and slipped under the covers, getting comfortable. Namjoon returns in grey striped pyjama pants and a white shirt, but he has something in his hands.

“You might think it’s silly,” he offers by way of explanation, the mattress springs squeaking as he gets on beside you, “but I like reading before bed, and I thought maybe you’d find it calming.”

With a dubious smile, you look at the book in his hands. It has the clean edges of a cared-for book, with the creases in the spine of a well-read one. On the cover, golden embossed stars and swooping font read The Little Prince. “You want me to read it?”

Namjoon returns your smile, warm and dimpled. “I want to read to you.”

The two of you cuddle together without words, one of his arms wrapped around your back as you lean on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Propping the small novel up on his stomach, he peers over your head to read.

“Once when I was six years old,” he begins, “I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.” He pauses, tapping you twice on the crown of your head to indicate you should look. “In the book it said…”

As he recites the novel aloud, you feel more than hear his voice, a low rumble in your ear like a rushing river or a slow-moving thunderstorm. It’s soothing, lulling you into sleep. His voice wraps around every word like a hug, enunciating each syllable with such care and colour and love, and always pausing when there were photos, even when your eyes slip shut and you begin to drift off.

Slowly, everything fades away. All sound is reduced to that regular heartbeat and warm rumble; all sensations are narrowed down to just the heat of his skin where it meets yours, his fingers lazily swirling patterns on your scalp. All thoughts simplify, the last six words in your brain, I could get used to this, before they wink out to nothing at all, and you sleep.

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babbushka · 4 years ago

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Zannah, I can’t wait for Prince Philip! I loved Fathoms Below too!

I think that after the divorce when Charlie can be with you that he will really want to be with you! Showing you off and parading his affection for you around!

Can you please give us something with Charlie being a bit of an exhibitionist or even pushing things too far? Anything you think would be fun.

(1.2K, canon-divergent where Charlie wins the custody battle, cw: implied infidelity, but really lots of fluff, excessive PDA)

You’ve never seen him so happy, once it’s a done deal. Once the ink has dried and the terms have been agreed on once and for all, once Charlie’s a free man. The divorce lawyers in that big building in the sky all look at him with raised eyebrows, because they’ve never seen someone practically skipping out of their floor the way Charlie does, elated excited overjoyed.

But they don’t know, that now that it’s all done, he’s practically racing his way to you.

The sun washes over New York City, and he spreads his arms wide soaking up the rays. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so young, so much adrenaline coursing through his veins. Henry is with Nicole for the weekend as a way to get some time in before saying goodbye, and Charlie wants nothing more than to be with you.

He had been with you for quite some time of course, but never like this. Not like the way he can buy flowers and not have to hide them behind his back as he approaches your door. Not like the way he can pull you in for a kiss right in front of everyone, no longer having to worry about what the neighbors might think.

“I love you.” He announces, his voice loud loud loud on the day it’s all settled, and his face is lit up like the Hudson when the sunshine hits it just right. “I love you and I want the world to know.”

“I love you too Charlie.” You grin at him, and something in your spine tingles about the fact that you get to say it proudly, because it’s true, it’s always been true.

Taking you by the hand, he beams at you with those handsomely crooked teeth of his, and pulls you out of your house with a laugh.

“Where are we going?” You let yourself be pulled along, let yourself walk in time with his long legs, an even pace.

“Anywhere, everywhere!” Charlie laughs, feeling a thousand pounds lighter without the golden band around his finger, and you can’t help but laugh along with him, his energy contagious as he stops abruptly and picks you up, twirls you around and around in the air asking, “Where do you want to go? The world is our oyster, sweetheart!”

He could practically break out into song and dance, remembering why he fell in love with theater in the first place, musical numbers waiting to explode out of his chest right there on the sidewalk.

“You know what I haven’t done in a long time?” The idea pops into your head, a slightly unconventional date idea, considering Charlie was known for his grand plans.

“What’s that?” He’s at once interested, holding you close to his chest, his hands groping at your ass, at your sides right there in front of everyone.

“Visit the Met, let’s go there.” You bite at your lip, shimmying away for only as far as you could manage before he scoops you up in his arms again, the two of you love-drunk and elated all the while.

He can’t keep his hands off of you the entire trip there. The subways are packed but that’s okay, he has you sat right on his lap, his arms wound around your middle. You at least have the decency to look embarrassed about it, but Charlie is blissfully unaware of the looks that some more concerned passengers were throwing his way. He kisses at your neck, chaste kisses but still kisses nonetheless, squeezes your thigh.

He doesn’t let go of your hand once as you get off at the right stop and walk up from underground. The perfect gentleman that he is, he opens all the doors for you and like the brat he can be, he pinches and smacks at your ass as you pass him by. He even goes so far as to try and sneak his hand under your skirt on occasion, making you smack at his hands for being so bold, so crass.

But it isn’t until you find yourselves in front of a large painting, an old oil master work of a pair of lovers embracing, that Charlie really throws all caution to the wind. You’re looking up at it in wonder, moved by the artwork in front of you, moved by the beauty of the composition and execution. In turn, Charlie is moved by you. He is reminded that this is what love is supposed to feel like, how a partner is supposed to make him feel.

He can’t help but tug on your hand to get your attention, can’t help but capture your lips in a heated searing kiss right there on the museum floor. You smile against his lips and melt into his embrace, the little pamphlet fluttering to the marble below your feet as your arms wind around his shoulders.

There’s people all around, but Charlie doesn’t care. In fact he’s glad they’re there, glad that they can witness his love for you. His hands begin to wander, clutching you tightly to him just the same way that the lovers in the painting do. He is elated that he can do this freely without consequence, and he wants to do it all the time.

A long time ago in a dark theater, Charlie had shouted up at the ghosts that sneered down at him from the rafters – but look at him now. Look at the two of you, together after it all, together at last! He wishes that he could commission an artist to render this moment, two people so adoring of one another, that in two thousand years perhaps another couple could kiss in front of.

His large hand covers your face as he cups your jaw, pries your mouth open with his and licks against your tongue, soft sounds of your kissing echoing in this little gallery of the museum. You sigh against his mouth, and he smiles, kisses like he’s going to devour you – until the security guard in the corner clears his throat, and you both give an apologetic smile, moving through the rest of the Met.

Later, when you’re back in his bed at his house that he bought with the three of you in mind, you’re tucked up against his naked sweaty chest as you share a cigarette, and you sigh.

“Today was wonderful.” You say softly, because it was, it really was. From the museum to the pizza joint you stopped at on the way back home, to the dogs you saw in the park and the butterfly that landed on Charlie’s shoulder while he smoked, it felt like today was the beginning of a new chapter in everyone’s lives.

“I’m glad you think so.” Charlie says, and you have no way of knowing, but he’s thinking the exact same thing. His voice goes shy then for a moment, uncharacteristically nervous as he continues softly, “It can be like this every day…if you want.”

You should have known your answer would get you tackled with kisses, but you don’t think about that in the moment. All you can think about, is how you can’t imagine your life any other way than being spent with Charlie and Henry, as you wink and respond with a cheeky,

“You promise?”

----------------

Tagging some Charlie lovin’ pals! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @safarigirlsp @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief @slut-for-harri @littleevilme13 @erys-targaryen @leillaa @lovinghufflepuffgirl @miabelay11 @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad

#charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber/reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber/you #marriage story #adam driver fanfic #adcu #my writing #charlie barber fluff

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forevfangirlwrites · 4 years ago

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I love your how to handle fame series and I totally get if you’re six of writing for this AU but if you aren’t I’d love one with them making the relationship official like Annabeth telling Percy he can post a picture of them for the first time or her telling him she wants to make it official and post on social media and Percy just being happy to tell the world that she’s his and vice versa

CONTINUATION OF: PART 9

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7, Part 8

If Percy ever decides to pick up the memoir business again, the entire thing could be about the past two days, which have downright been the weirdest, most surreal days of his whole life.

On second thought, maybe he wouldn’t be able to write it because he’s spent all weekend trying to compartmentalize it and it still feels like a blur.

Like one really long day.

And you’d think, given the magnitude of the events that had occurred, he’d remember it better.

CHB had been the first to report the news, courtesy of that lady shoving a mic in his face, but the interview had really sealed the deal. Zoe Nightshade is acclaimed for reporting facts not fiction in the celeb news world, so going on her show to talk about it had been the best way to get the right version of the story out there.

All he remembers about the set are the hot lights, the white couch (that he was immediately worried about ruining) and Annabeth by his side, holding his hand.

Overall, it had been good. The entire thing had been premeditated by Annabeth, who had started off the interview explaining how they wanted to go public on their own terms instead of someone else leaking it, but that they still wished to keep their personal lives private.

Percy had also kept to his premeditated script, saying he’s a barista from New York, and shifting the dialogue (as Annabeth called it) to their meeting.

After the interview Annabeth had given him a big hug and told him it was a success.

But then…..oh then, came The Notifications™.

As if he didn’t already spend too much time on his phone, he’s been glued to it all weekend.

“It’s going to be rough,” Annabeth had said with the same worried face that she had when the talk about going public had come up a month ago.

And Percy knows, right, he’s been in the service industry and knows how people can be jerks. He knows there’s going to be backlash.

Maybe that’s why Annabeth had rented a beach house far down the coast and been by his side constantly the past two days.

He glances over at her, leaning back on her comfy wicker chair with her feet propped, reading a book. As if she can tell he’s looking at her, she puts down her book and turns to face him.

“What’s up?’

Her long legs look golden in the sunlight filtering through the light curtains and she’s practically glowing with the beach air wafting through the open window.

Long story short, she looks beautiful.

Focusing his brain from the detour it took to admire her, he shakes his head.

“Nothing…just wondering how I got here.”

She picks up her cup of tea from the table beside her. “What do you mean?”

Leaning back against the headboard of the bed, he stares at the high planked ceiling.

“I don’t know…just everything. I mean for one, I’ve never seen so many pictures of myself…even my mom’s albums would have a tough time competing…actually, they might still win now that I think about it.”

Annabeth chuckles at that. And while it’s true his mom has an absurd amount of pictures, him and Annabeth have been plastered a fair amount on various articles and social media. He’d kept his Instagram private, but his Twitter hadn’t stopped blowing up.

“And I’ve never had this many people talk or…speculate about me.” He drops his gaze from the ceiling to once again land on her. “Like, it’s the most hate I’ve ever gotten…”

The inevitable comments on him being a gold digger, though expected, had been hard to see. It stung a little to think people thought he was anything other than hopelessly in love with his girlfriend.

But no one had been more pissed than Annabeth and it had taken kisses from him to distract her.

He sees the same anger and worry start to flare up now, her eyebrows already creasing together, and rushes to complete his thought.

“But it’s also the most support I’d gotten.”

Luckily, an overwhelming majority of Annabeth’s fans had been super supportive of them. One picture in particular, one of them standing at the red carpet staring into each other’s eyes, had gone viral and “Percabeth” (as people were dubbing them) had been number one on trending for a whole day.

So many people not only calling them cute, but also describing him as hot. Percy had almost laughed out loud when he’d first read comments gushing about how attractive he was. (Take that, Nancy Bobofit, who called him ugly in middle school.)

“It’s just really crazy I guess, I never expected this from my life.”

He really should write a memoir. Other people need to know how almost comically absurd his life is now. (It would start with riding the subway to school every day.)

Annabeth sits up in her chair, still wearing the frown from earlier.

“Do you regret it?”

She asks calmly enough, but he can see the worry behind her eyes and the fear creep into her tone. He slides off the bed and walks to her, sitting on the footstool she’d been propping her feet on a second ago.

“Not at all.”

Reaching for her hand, he raises it to her lips, keeping eye contact. She needs to know that he’d take it all if it means he gets to be with her.

The day after the interview, Annabeth had told him to pick out a picture of them to post on her Instagram. And though it had immediately become her most liked picture, it wasn’t just fan service. The smile on her face when she posted it had made Percy’s heart melt even more.

Because the truth is, despite everything, it feels so good to call her his in front of the whole world.

Annabeth smiles, pulling their intertwined hands close to her and resting her cheek against them.

“Good.”

His phone vibrates and he can’t help but look over. Annabeth smiles, amusedly. “Who is it?”

He reaches for the device, unlocking it with a swipe. “My mom.”

“What’s she saying?”

He smiles as he reads the text. “That her friends are blowing up about this.”

Annabeth chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll blow over soon.”

Almost automatically, he opens up Twitter. It’s become a bad habit over the past two days. “Well, we have been trending for a while…”

His sentence veers off as he checks the trending tab. Number one this morning had been a kpop star whose birthday was today and “Percabeth” had been second.

But now number one was…Jogan Paul, who had apparently been caught in some money laundering scheme and become the center of all public outrage. Number two was still the kpop star and number three was #ultranatural.

“Percabeth” was nowhere to be found.

“You’re right…we’re not trending anymore, some other guy, Jogan did a—”

“Money laundering scheme?” Annabeth finishes and he looks up from his phone to see her smile over her tea.

“Yeah…everyone’s talking about him….and then it’s a k—”

“Kpop idol? Yeah, it’s P-Dawn’s birthday,” Annabeth finishes again.

Percy stares at her.

Annabeth, after posting the Instagram photo, hadn’t checked her phone almost all weekend, letting him look at everything going on.

So how could she know all this? He’s pretty sure she hasn’t checked her phone in hours, instead working her way though her book.

“Yeah…” he continues, still confused. “So we’re not trending anymore. This Jogan guy really messed stuff up…”

Annabeth shrugs, still smiling. “That’s how it goes, people move on from things quickly.”

He nods. He knows this. And personally he’s glad that they’re not the main topic of conversation now. It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He puts down his phone with a smile.

“Yeah, it’s fortunate that this guy messed up, really took the eyes off of us.”

Of course, not all the eyes. Annabeth’s fans will still talk about it, but now the media has something juicer to report on.

“Yeah, fortunate,” Annabeth repeats, lifting her cup again to take a sip, but she can’t hide her smile.

Something about this feels…

“Did you know about this?”

Annabeth just takes a sip of her tea.

Peering over the cup, she replies sweetly, “Did you know the season finale of Ultranatural is on tonight?”

And that’s all the answer he needs.

(So he naturally responds by picking her up and tossing her in bed, letting her laughs bounce off the high ceilings as he wraps her in a hug, thinking that there needs to be a whole chapter in his memoir about just how smart his girlfriend is.)

A/N: As I said in the beginning, this is the continuation to the last chapter in the how to handle fame series. Thank you for sending in the prompt! It’s been a popular one and I had a whole storyline for it (though I did include the insta pic :)

When I came up with this plotline I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head that Annabeth would totally mastermind the entire thing and make sure that their relationship didn’t get too much heat.

Plus, let’s be real, news moves fast, and their relationship, while a big thing, isn’t the only thing going on the world for people to talk about. And stories that spark outrage blow up more than two people dating, so I tried to keep this as realistic as I could.

Part of the reason it’s taken so long for this is because I truly wasn’t sure the best way to tackle this whole thing while still staying true to reality as best I could. So when I thought of the Annabeth planning out this whole thing I thought it was fun and cute and went for it. I mean this entire series has taken off in a way I had truly never imagined.

A lot of people had requested the whole going public thing and how it would play out, so I really hope you guys liked this! (And thank you anon for sending in the prompt I used to post this :)

(Also a lot of references to things that have happened semi-recently so lmk if you’ve figured them out, not that they’re that hard lol)

#percy and annabeth #percabeth #percabeth fic #percabeth au #actress annabeth #barista percy

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

Text

Level Up, Chapter Thirteen (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“You know who this is?”

The boxer on Detox’s screen is pretty. Real pretty. Also one that Vanessa knows well, after watching videos upon videos of professional boxers that Brooke would send her for homework when she had first started training.

“Olivia Lux.”

Detox gives her an approving smile. “Ding ding ding. You know who else she is?”

“Who?”

“Your next opponent.”

Hold up.

“Wait, what?”

A/N: Hi, I'm still alive! Slowly but surely still working on this fic. If you're still here and reading and reviewing, I appreciate you tons. Hope you enjoy this chapter, things are starting to pick up. Thank you writ for betaing <3

Vanessa’s not sure what to expect when Brooke asks her to come to morning practice half an hour earlier than usual, but Detox in a bright yellow suit with her Louboutins dangling off the side of Brooke’s desk is the last on her list.

“Look who it is. The prodigal athlete herself,” Detox smiles as she flips her ponytail over her shoulder, and Vanessa can’t help but be impressed by her full face of makeup at six in the morning.

Brooke is an adorable contrast sitting next to Detox, the rumpled sweats and top knot pairing perfectly with the way she hides a yawn behind her hand. “I tried to get Detox to come by in the afternoon, I really did.”

“Please. I have a flight in two hours and a meeting in L.A. at two today with Serena,” Detox takes a sip of her coffee, her lipstick staining the edge of the paper cup. “This won’t take too much time, don’t worry.”

“Who’s Serena?” Vanessa can’t help the curiosity that brews in her chest with every word out of Detox’s mouth.

“Williams, obviously. Who else?”

Vanessa whistles, shooting a look over to Brooke. “Damn.”

Detox has Serena Williams as a client? Serena Williams, one of the greatest female athletes of all time? How on earth did she agree to work with Vanessa, of all people?

Because of Brooke. Brooke, who’s currently resting her cheek on her palm as her eyes are fluttering while trying to stay awake.

“Anyway, it’s been a few months. We’re milking that meme of yours, it’s still going strong for now,” Detox hops off of the table, her heels clacking against the floor as she sidles up to Vanessa. “But it won't last forever.”

“Cool?” Vanessa’s not quite sure what Detox wants as an answer, really, though she doesn’t look too satisfied.

“Not cool. You need to keep the momentum going. Catch the low swinging vines while they’re still in reach,” Detox pulls out her phone, her eyes darting over the screen and Vanessa almost wants to climb on her tiptoes to take a peek, but then Detox turns her screen to face her. “You know who this is?”

“Olivia Lux.”

Detox gives her an approving smile. “Ding ding ding. You know who else she is?”

“Who?”

“Your next opponent.”

Hold up.

“Wait, what?”

Vanessa can’t help the panicked lilt in her voice as she takes a step back, her shoulder hitting the side of the doorframe. Brooke doesn’t look as freaked out as Vanessa feels, which makes no sense because Olivia Lux isn’t another run of the mill boxer. She’s a pro. One of the big ones. She’s at the same caliber that Brooke used to fight at. She has sponsorships and fans of her own, and a damn good left hook to boot. Good enough that she doesn’t even need a last name for everyone on the boxing scene to know who she is. The damn Beyonce of boxing.

How’s Vanessa supposed to fight her?

“This is how you’re going to keep yourself a household name. You’re entering the big leagues, kid."

“But...but…” Vanessa trails off, and maybe she’s fidgeting a little bit but she doesn’t exactly know what else to do, not when Brooke is looking perfectly calm about all of this.

“I’ll get in contact with Olivia’s agent and we’ll drum up some publicity, set up some interviews, get the internet buzzing. Should cause a spike in interest in you, no problem,” Detox types furiously on her phone as she stands up, twirling to face Vanessa. “What are you looking so terrified for?”

Vanessa can’t help but look at Detox as if she has two heads, because really, isn’t it obvious? “She’s gonna beat my ass up, that’s why! You want me to die on national tv for a second time?”

Vanessa’s already gone and humiliated herself enough. Facing someone like Olivia Lux right now sounds like an insane idea, it really does, when Olivia has a penchant for flashing her opponents a grin before absolutely pulverizing them.

“So dramatic,” Detox snorts, waving a hand airily. “I’ve seen your training videos and boxing matches. You’ll be just fine.”

“Fine?” Vanessa’s ready to launch into an explanation of how she’s not going to be fine, thank you very much, not with her level of skill but then there’s a hand over hers, and Brooke’s eyes looking at her all warm and comforting.

“It’s going to be your choice, whether or not you want to do this. Always your choice.” Brooke’s thumb rubs against Vanessa’s hand in small little circles and it slows her heart rate down just a bit, enough to keep it from taking flight. “But if my opinion matters, you definitely have the skills and drive to hold your own against Olivia. You’re better at this than you think you are.”

Vanessa lets out a shaky sigh. “Dunno about that.”

Sure, she can hold her own in the ring at an amateur level, in the easier tournaments where her competitors have a similar level of experience as she does. Someone like Olivia on the other hand, who’s trained for more than a decade and won enough belts to cement herself as a legend on the pro scene...Vanessa wants to cover herself in bubble wrap for protection at the mere thought of going up against her.

She really should have picked a sport like golf. Maybe bowling. Something a little less combat-filled if she has to go up against a pro.

“How about this,” Detox starts, standing up and pulling her trench coat over her shoulders, “give it a week. Think about it, decide, whatever. I’ll put some feelers out, and if you want to do it, we can get the ball rolling. If not, well, you’ll have to break into the professional scene some time or another, doll. Might as well do it at the peak of fame, no?”

“We’ll let her think about it,” Brooke cuts in before Vanessa even has to say anything at all, and she lets out a sigh of relief at the interlude.

Detox blows air kisses in their direction as she heads for the door, a perfect Hollywood caricature leaving in a cloud of perfume that makes Vanessa wrinkle her nose. Detox’s mere presence is an event in itself, one that Vanessa feels like she needs to catch her breath to recover from.

Brooke’s looking at her almost warily, her fingers tapping against the desk with a nervous energy. Quite bold for someone who’d probably do just fine against Olivia.

“D’you really think I’d be able to hold my own against her?” Vanessa finally gets out, because now that Detox isn’t here, Brooke will be honest with her, right? Not reassuring her just to look confident in front of Detox?

“Obviously,” Brooke says with an eyebrow-raise. “Like I said, you’re better than you think.”

“But that last match-”

“You think a pro boxer has never lost a match before?” Brooke asks, before letting out a sigh. “Boxing isn’t about how hard you can hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.”

Vanessa scoffs. “You did not just quote Rocky Balboa to me.”

“Sure did. And it’s true. You’ve lost a match. Cool. Fifty fifty chance of that happening. So how are you going to come back from it in the ring? Are you going to let it keep you from boxing again?”

“No, not that, I just…” Vanessa trails off, trying to search for the right words, “how am I supposed to fight against someone like Olivia? Or try and stage a comeback against a pro?”

Brooke’s lips curl up at the edges, a smile on her face that Vanessa doesn’t quite understand. “Y’know, you’re technically a pro.”

“What? No I’m not. Gassing me up like that ain’t gonna work,” Vanessa scoffs, crossing her arms, but Brooke looks unfazed.

“The definition of a ‘pro’ encompasses someone who has sponsors, who accepts prize money. You’re there, aren’t you? Or did I imagine the billboard of you outside my subway station this morning?”

“Another one?” Vanessa squeaks out, because Jesus Christ. Detox never rests.

“You’re already a pro. And your skill level is rising to catch up with you, too. I really think we can get you to be a solid threat to her, Ness, I really do.”

The sincerity in Brooke’s eyes is almost jarring in a way, because Vanessa knows she’s not joking. Not that she’d joke about something like this, but...still. Brooke believes her own words.

“And you’re really not just saying that?” Vanessa mumbles, because it doesn’t hurt to check one more time just in case she’s going to change her answer.

“I’m really not. Like I said, you’re better than you think you are.” Brooke, to her credit, isn’t looking exasperated with her, despite earning the right to be, and instead, she smiles. “And if you really want to increase your chances of winning, I can always push you a tad harder in the gym, make your conditioning and strength workouts even more intense. Is this your way of asking for it?”

“Now hold on just a second,” Vanessa squeaks, holding both of her hands up in front of herself. “I’m a little too young to experience a heart attack. Still got a baby face and all.”

“You know, I bet Olivia’s pushing herself in the gym right this second,” Brooke says lightly, her smile growing when Vanessa huffs and crosses her arms.

“Well, when you say it like that-”

“Atta girl. Now come on,” Brooke says, sliding herself off of her desk and holding out her hands to Vanessa. “Time to sweat.”

“Lord, have mercy.”

Time is malleable in the professional sports world.

The seconds in between a knockout and the referee making the call can feel like hours, meanwhile months of training can feel like a whirlwind in preparation for a match that creeps up all too soon. Brooke is not sure how two months have passed since Vanessa’s signed on for the fight with Olivia Lux, how their training plan is reaching the peak in anticipation of the match that’s now only a few days away. Vanessa’s everywhere, across from her in the gym and on the advertisements lining the subway cars on her ride home. She’s there when Brooke closes her eyes to sleep and pictures drills in her head that she’ll try out the next morning in practice, and she’s also floating in Brooke’s consciousness when she’s yanked from her dream at 4:30 am by the alarm she’s set to get to the airport on time.

Their flight to L.A is this morning. The match against Olivia is tomorrow. Brooke’s certain that Vanessa’s more ready than she’ll ever be, if her grit at yesterday’s practice is anything to go by.

So why does Brooke’s chest feel full of knots?

The knots loosen a tad when she sees Vanessa stumble out of her apartment building in a losing battle with her suitcase handle, as the sun casts pinks and oranges along the sidewalk. Brooke hops out of the Uber that they’re sharing to the airport to help Vanessa haul the suitcase into the trunk beside her own, and the smile that Vanessa shoots her warms her up on the inside, despite the chilly morning bite in the air.

“Now tell me why we couldn’t book a respectable flight in the afternoon? Why the hell are we leaving at the ass crack of dawn?” Vanessa asks behind a yawn as the car starts to move, and Brooke lets out one of her own.

“Because we need time to drop things off at the hotel, and fit in a training session before weigh-in and media this afternoon, and not to mention heading to bed on time to get a good night’s sleep before the match tomorrow-”

“Oh, I’ll get a good night’s sleep after waking up this damn early, I’ll tell you that,” Vanessa grumbles as she rubs her eyes, and Brooke has to hold back a laugh when she tugs her hoodie over her head.

“Aren’t you used to waking up early for practice, anyway? This is only a couple of hours more.”

“I need every minute of beauty sleep I can get, with all those interviews Detox lined up for today,” Vanessa mutters. “You’d think this was the royal wedding or some shit. Two boxers, united in holy ass kicking, on this beautiful autumnal afternoon-”

“That’s the spirit,” Brooke snorts, leaning back in her seat.

There’s something about Vanessa’s presence that always soothes the nerves tingling along her spine, slowing down the thoughts in her brain that run too fast while on autopilot. Just a smile and a wisecrack from under Vanessa’s breath is enough to let Brooke exhale and relax her previously tensed posture. Even when Vanessa doesn’t believe it herself, she has the tendency to reassure Brooke that everything is going to work out. Or at least, as much that can be worked out when partaking in a pro fight for the first time.

Despite the unspoken pressure of what’s to come Vanessa’s still grinning, quips rolling off of her tongue that make Brooke crack up and cause the other passengers in the terminal’s waiting area to shoot them dirty looks. It doesn’t stop as they board the flight either, if Vanessa’s woop of excitement as they reach their seats is anything to go by.

“You mean to tell me Detox booked us in first class? Bitch, I ain’t ever even sat in Economy Plus before. Shit.”

“Perks of becoming a meme, huh?” Brooke asks, storing her carry-on in the overhead compartment.

“I feel bougie as hell now,” Vanessa whistles, though lets out a huff when the shelf is too high for her to slide her own carry-on bag into place.

Brooke grins, plucking the bag from her grip and pushing it in for her. “You didn’t feel bougie when Prada sent you a PR package last week?”

“Nah, but this is different, y’know? One of those things you always hope to eventually do, even when it feels far fetched. This makes it more real.”

Brooke gets it. She remembers first experiencing the perks of her dad’s success - the sponsorships, the connections, their move from their tiny apartment to a penthouse suite. It was the little things at the time that had made it feel real - like the fact that her dad had stopped buying the value brand juice boxes for Brooke’s lunches, and instead went for the kool-aid jammers that everyone else in her class was bringing in. The smaller, minute differences felt more significant, in a way, with the larger changes in their lives at the time more of a fever dream.

“What’re you gonna watch?” Vanessa asks, thumbing through the entertainment display on the seat in front of her. “I’m thinking Toddlers and Tiaras.”

“Seriously?” Brooke asks, raising an eyebrow on the overly hairsprayed child displayed on Vanessa’s screen. “That show freaks me out.”

Vanessa shrugs, crossing her legs on her seat. “That’s the beauty of it. Can’t tear your eyes from the car wreck.”

“I’m gonna stick with Nashville, I’m already in the middle of a rewatch, so may as well keep going,” Brooke shrugs.

“Ain’t that the show on country music? Lord Jesus, you are so white,” Vanessa shakes her head, tutting under her breath.

Brooke scoffs, crossing her arms. “It’s a good show! You can’t talk, not when you’re watching toddlers with spray tans.”

For as much as Vanessa defends her choice of show, she doesn’t watch much of it, not when Brooke notices her eyes slipping closed and her head starting to lean forward before jerking backwards every so often. The déjà vu that flares in Brooke’s chest when Vanessa’s head settles onto her shoulder is inevitable, when the movement mirrors their trip to that fateful tournament where Vanessa’s boxing journey completely changed trajectories. In a way, some things still haven’t changed - the way Vanessa’s eyelids flutter as she sleeps, the soft rise and fall of her chest. Vanessa snuggles in even more against her shoulder as she mumbles under her breath, and the wave of affection that goes over Brooke is the same as what it would have been on the way to that tournament.

She has to ignore Yvie’s knowing words that worm their way into her brain, the ones that have become more and more prevalent over the last few months - you’re into her, she’s into you, why don’t you just tell her how you feel? It’s that easy, and you won’t have to mope anymore. The words that she always scoffs out whenever Brooke has a faraway look on her face, or after Vanessa leaves their apartment after another movie night. Yvie’s perceptive, a little bit too perceptive for her own good, because she’s seeing things that shouldn’t even be there.

Brooke isn’t into Vanessa, because she can’t be. What kind of predatory coach falls for their student?

The way her heart flutters when Vanessa smiles at her is irrelevant, as is the way that she always puts on Beyoncé for their morning warm up just to make Vanessa happy. It doesn’t matter.

Because any coach would do everything in their power to make their athlete happy. It doesn’t mean anything more.

Besides, Vanessa doesn’t feel the same way. Not when her smile lights up her face with everyone she meets, not when her banter and jokes are the same with Brooke as they are with her other friends. She’s friendly and considerate and perfect because that’s just who she is, not because she has feelings.

Yvie’s often wrong, anyway.

Though it doesn’t stop Brooke from imagining what things would be like if she could press a kiss to Vanessa’s temple as she sleeps, or maybe rub small circles onto her palm with her thumb. Provide that reassurance for the fight ahead even while she’s asleep, keeping an eye out for her the way she deserves. Wrapping her arms around her at night because they can share a bed rather than have separate rooms and hey, Brooke would definitely sleep better if Vanessa was in her arms because she felt the same way and-

No.

She can’t.

Thoughts like that aren’t helpful, not when they have no realistic way of happening. Besides, Vanessa’s type is probably more towards the male athletes at the gym. She’s never indicated anything to the contrary, no matter what Yvie says.

Brooke really needs to stop her brain from running full steam ahead with unlikely scenarios that’ll stay fictional forever. Besides, there’s a fight to focus on. One that’ll be the biggest of Vanessa’s life so far. It would be selfish of Brooke to derail it because her heart flutters a little more than it should when Vanessa smiles at her, or speaks in that soft voice that she only uses when she’s feeling pensive, or-

Christ.

The pilot overhead announcing the impending descent and landing is almost a blessing, because it causes Vanessa to stir against her shoulder and Brooke can push away the idiotic thoughts threatening to take over her consciousness, and instead focus on how cute Vanessa looks when she’s blinking away sleep.

“We here already? That flight was five minutes long, max.”

“That’s what happens when you sleep the entire journey,” Brooke murmurs, resisting the urge to tuck a loose lock of hair behind Vanessa’s ear.

Vanessa yawns. “You make a good pillow. I swear, I slept like a baby. You take reservations for that shoulder, at all?”

“What, you want to rent it out to sleep on? That’ll cost you way extra,” Brooke replies, ignoring the longing in her chest that would gladly let Vanessa rest on her any time she wanted.

“I got venmo and cash app. Your choice,” Vanessa giggles, leaning back against her seat. “It’s part of coaching duties and all, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Coaching duties,” Brooke mumbles.

That’s all it is. It can’t be anything more, not when the chance of it ever happening is close to zero.

Brooke really needs to go back to thinking like a coach.

“Why don’t we live in L.A? We could go to the beach after practice every day if we wanted to,” Vanessa huffs out between breaths, before taking a swig from her water bottle.

The view of the parking lot from the hotel’s fitness room is a far cry from the ocean, but Vanessa remembers seeing a sign during their Uber ride earlier today indicating that they were near a beach. A girl can fantasize.

Brooke drops her hands, her boxing pads swinging slightly. “Two words: L.A. traffic. You’d also miss your mom and sister way too much.”

“I’ll give you that,” Vanessa concedes. “My sister? Nah. My mom, though? Neither of us would cope without each other fifteen minutes away.”

“I think that’s sweet, though,” Brooke smiles, before lifting her pads back up, an unspoken signal for Vanessa to go for another round. “It’s nice that you two are so close.”

“Yeah, until she’s poking around my apartment and folding the clothes piled on the chair in my room, and going on about ‘ay, Vanessa, you’ve folded your socks all wrong and did you call your Tia Luisa for her birthday yet? And don’t forget about dinner next Friday, you better bring the tostones because there’s no way I’m cooking absolutely everything, okay?’” Vanessa tops off her impression with a snap of her fingers. “Nah, I love it, though.”

She really does. It’s nice, the way her and Alexis and her mom have remained such a close family unit, through everything. As much as Vanessa huffs and puffs when her mom begins a lecture two minutes after entering her apartment, she truly doesn’t mind.

“It means she cares,” Brooke grins. “C’mon, one more round and we’re done for the day.”

“Are you sure? Ain’t it not enough?” Vanessa asks, and she doesn’t mean to let her voice waver the way it does, but Brooke gives her that knowing look and grabs her shoulders in a way that tells Vanessa that she’s definitely noticed.

“What have we been doing for the past few months, hm?” Brooke raises an eyebrow, and Vanessa has to resist the urge to huff.

“Training.”

“And how many hours a day have we been training?”

“A fuck ton.”

“That’s what I thought,” Brooke shrugs, before her eyes soften just a tad. “You’re ready, okay? Even past the physical part of it. Do you think I’d make you write an analysis on Olivia’s fighting techniques just for fun?”

“I still can’t believe you made me do that,” Vanessa replies, wrinkling her nose. “I wasn’t my English teacher’s favourite in high school, lemme tell you that.”

At least Brooke hadn’t minded when Vanessa started her so-called paper with ‘let me tell you something,' or when she threw in some barbs about the weaknesses in Olivia’s fighting techniques.

“It did help though, I can’t lie,” Vanessa concedes. “Watching so many of her fights and breaking everything down.”

“You know how often I go on about boxing being as mental as it is physical,” Brooke shrugs. “No point in going into a fight without a plan. We’ve planned for months. You’ve worked on this plan for months. Do you really think you aren’t ready?”

Vanessa sighs. “It’s not that, I just…” she trails off, slumping slightly as the words she’s been trying to shove out of her brain fight their way to the forefront. “What if I lose?”

She’d lost her most recent match and became a meme as a result. What if her so-called career as a pro will be nothing more than getting her ass kicked and getting made fun of? Vanessa’s a sucker for punishment, sure, but she’s also not a clown.

Brooke shrugs. “Then we prepare for your next match. But what makes you so sure that will happen?”

“I mean, I got thoroughly whooped in my last match, and I haven’t fought since then-”

“Then what do you call our daily sparring where I really don’t hold back against you anymore, at all?”

Brooke’s revelation makes Vanessa pause. “Wait, really? You don’t go easy on me?”

Vanessa’s always thought that Brooke fought at an unattainable level as a pro - someone unstoppable, someone that Vanessa should aspire to be like. But if Brooke isn’t holding back against her anymore, then…

“As you’ve improved, I’ve pushed you harder and harder. You don’t think you’re still at the level you were at when you walked into my gym with press-ons, do you?”

The disbelief in Brooke’s expression is mixed in with pride and a twinkle in her eye - a look that Vanessa always strives to get out of her during training, one that makes her stomach flip in excitement.

“So what you’re saying is, I can whoop your ass,” Vanessa grins, and Brooke’s eye roll is immediate.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. Olivia, though? More than capable of whooping hers. You’re ready, Ness. You really are.”

With the way Brooke is looking at her, part of Vanessa may be finally starting to believe it, too.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanije mateo #lesbian au #boxer au #level up #holtzmanns

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bymaellena · 4 years ago

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Touching the Stars | Chapter #1

With a loud thud, Anna Park had been abruptly taken out of her dreams. The subway had finally arrived at her station.

When she was in High School, becoming a manager was nothing like that. She thought she would have a good car, a beautiful house and idols to take care. She could run in the morning, drink a coffee in the cafeteria next to her house after a hot shower and receive a smile from all her respectful co-workers. She would have friends to dinner with and have lots of fun activities on her schedule to entertain fans at the same time she would make sure all the stress provided by fame could be taken away from her protegees.

And, in the weekends, she could finally seat in peace at her sofa and enjoy some dramas and mukbangs while eating her favorite foods. Or, if the weather was good, she could just stargaze in the terrace while waiting for her homemade barbecue to be ready. Peace, silence and fullness.

Instead of the beautiful and complex scenario that a 16 year old girl could create in her mind, ten years later her life couldn't be more different. She had not gotten a place in the college of her choice and the internship she had gotten was in a company so small that the only artist who promoted it was one of the founders. Serving coffee was never her dream, let alone living in a tiny room with thousands of stairs and taking two hours to get to the company. Incredibly, despite all the endless walks and stairs that were cursed daily, she had put on weight too.

She blamed the huge amount of sleepless nights and noodles that she ate. But she was immensely dedicated to the company. Although not her dream company, what she discovered in a hidden dark corner of Gangnam-do was something beyond what she studied in college. She found CEOs who cared so much for the artists and staff that they forced her to at least doze off in the break room for a few hours daily. Four solo artists, three groups and two changes of address later, all the blood, sweat and tears had made the company grow and managed to house more artists than she had imagined.

Twenty trainees growing up year after year was something she hadn't imagined she would be able to witness. Some were younger, some older, but all talented and incredible enough to win a place in their hearts. Despite being different from what she had dreamed of, her life wasn't that bad. She only complained when reality hit her hard.

And reality literally decided to slam the door in her face as she tried to get out of the crowded subway. Missing the station would mean five minutes late. Five minutes that it would take to arrive at the cafeteria of the building just to see the queue for the giant cafe, and having to decide whether to be scolded for being late or for not bringing coffee for the entire team. It was her fault that she slept late enough not to be able to wake up on time, but it was for good reason.

She finally got a dorm room good enough for all twenty trainees who were going to move in an attempt to finally get her debut. An apartment near Gangnam-do with five bedrooms was not easy to find, in fact, it was impossible. But something she had learned at that company was that all the staff were responsible for doing the impossible to make the artists feel good. After so much bad news of idols being harmed in all different ways and in all different ways, all I wanted was for the girls, too young to be able to handle everything that fame could bring, to be able to rest in peace after a long day . If she couldn't have the apartment of her dreams, at least the girls could.

"I was almost asleep without your coffee, Anna." Kang Hyunsik jokes, getting up and helping the girl with all the boxes and bags she carried. "Are you preparing for war?" Anna laughed, feeling the full weight of the stress go away with the boxes she was carrying. After all these years, she was still surprised at how Hyunsik managed to have that effect on everyone.

He might not be handsome enough to be an idol, but his smile was enough to brighten up the room and his selfless attitude was what attracted the girl to the team in the first place. He was a talented manager, above all, managing his artists as best as possible and always making sure that they slept at least six hours a day. "Preparing for the war against the press, for sure. Did you forget that the news from the reality show is out today?"

"How could I forget? This place hasn't stopped for a second in the past month, it's insane," he took a deep breath, escorting her to the meeting room. "Do you really think that a reality show is the best way to debut girls? Twenty girls competing for nine places seems very cruel, and we know how much it can affect them," Anna asked, still concerned.

Six months later and she still hadn't gotten used to the idea of playing teenagers in a place with cameras filming all the time and an invisible jury to look at their whole lives, without mercy. "It was taking too long for you to say that," Hyunsik laughed, delighted by her friend's motherly attitude.

"Despite not being the most appropriate according to the company's parameters, it will be a good thing. We promise, and we sign, that they will not be filmed all the time, they will have a day of rest a week and will have daily medical and psychological monitoring. . If any of them are not comfortable, we will take care of them "He breathed, placing the boxes on the floor of the elevator and pressing the button. "Besides, they will be in good hands."

Anna laughed, taking a break from the walk she had taken there. Some days, her body missed when the company was smaller. "Do you really think so?", She asked anxiously. After so many years dreaming, the opportunity to finally look after some group had fallen into her hands, leaving her excited and apprehensive at the same time.

"Anna, you work here as long as I do, you deserve this job. Besides, with someone who cares about them most of the time, I'm sure they will love you as a manager." And there it was, one more of those radiant smiles that filled her with confidence. It was impressive, as if all the charms of a smile came together in one person, it was almost as if it were in some cliché drama. Or in a toothpaste commercial.

They entered the meeting room, finding the others responsible for making that dream happen. There were two ways that described ONE Entertainment founder and main producer, Lee Jimin. Genius, responsible and CEO were the words that came together in all the stories about him, followed by all the awards he had won throughout his career, either for his music or for those he composed for his artists.

But if Anna could really describe her superior, it would be quite different. He was an extremely relaxed and funny guy, always forgetting where he had put his car keys, cell phone and glasses. Most of the time she was humming around the building and loved to spend most of her time on the terrace, as if the absence of sunlight from the studios blocked her source of inspiration.Above all, Jimin was like an older brother to Anna. He always offered her a ride and took milk from a box when he had time, helping her with all the jobs she received. Certainly a key part for the growth of it and the company as a whole.

Walking around with a half-empty cup of coffee in hand, the elegant woman was Nam Bora. She spoke emphatically on the phone, in a language she couldn't understand. Even if she were English, Anna would probably not understand. The company's co-founder was responsible for finance and international transactions.

She didn't spend a lot of time with the managing team, always traveling, but she always brought souvenirs for everyone. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. It was almost as if she had a spreadsheet with the names of everyone in that building. And she probably had it, being addicted to Excel and organization.

Bora had become one of Anna's best friends after hanging out with the team and sharing her entire life with the intern, even without being drunk. Bora said that she saw a lot of potential in the girl and always gave her work, just as often as she asked her to shop or go to the movies. She was like the big sister she never had.

Sitting next to them, Daniel Wu read quietly, for the tenth time, Harry Potter. He was quiet and smart, always checking to see if anyone needed anything. Anna did not understand how he was still single. He was as handsome as he was polite. When the company started to grow, he stopped riding in the car to take the subway and the bus together with the whole team. It was his way of remembering the company's roots, something very different for the chairman of a company.

Anna admired it in him, never forgot where it came from. She often bought whole meals for the company and made sure everyone felt welcome, from longtime employees to the birds on the terrace. Maybe that's why the whole company felt like a huge family, due to Daniel's quiet and sure effort.

Ahn Namjoon was the only one missing, nothing they were not used to. He was not often late, but he was always the last to arrive, and when he did, he was never empty-handed. As the manager of the boy group Kingdom, he was the oldest of the team and the director of the managing team too. He always had some unusual idea that solved everyone's problem, he was someone who lived outside the box.

Anna had met his family at a barbecue and could tell that she cared for the boys in the group just as she cared for her son. Just as she took care of herself and Hyunsik as if they were older children. He was the one who had hired Anna, saying he had the potential to build the entire company. If anyone had catalyzed the company's growth, it was him. More often than he would like, he said that Anna and Hyunsik were a couple as good as popsicles in the summer.

Analyzing that scene well, she could understand why she liked that reality so different from his dreams. Nobody was normal in that company, just like her, but everyone worked to grow the company and each other as well. A coexistence that added, like a healthy family. It was not the family she was born into, but the one she chose to love.

Hyunsik helped her organize the things she had brought to the meeting, while Namjoon finally arrived with a box full of sweets and snacks, hoping to turn the meeting into a brunch. "Sorry for the delay, I couldn't help bringing these brownies, they just came out of the oven!"

From a distance, they almost looked like a happy family at their weekly meeting. Life could have hit Anna in the face a lot, but she would have done it all again just for that moment. "Anna, please tell me you got a place for the girls," Bora asked as she bit into the cupcake with more frosting, getting a judgmental look from Daniel for eating the candy before it was salted.

"I got it last night! It's just a ten-minute walk from here, two blocks from a supermarket and one from the pharmacy. It's a townhouse with five rooms and a terrace that they'll love! We can take them there as soon as the cleaning is over, probably tonight. I drafted how they can get organized in there too. " she showed the papers excitedly, ignoring Hyunsik's concerned look.

"Always proactive, huh?" Namjoon praised, trying to eat a chicken salty without dropping crumbs on himself. "Great! I'll check with the film crew if they can record their reaction. If it's not good enough for the show, at least we can keep it as a souvenir." Daniel started to write things down in his pocketbook as he spoke. "We should take them out to dinner beforehand, so we can celebrate the start of this new phase of their career. Anna and Hyunsik, can you handle this?" Both nodded, nodding excitedly.

"Namjoon, can you take charge of taking the judges to practice before filming tomorrow morning? I'm worried that Elle still doesn't feel comfortable enough to get back on stage." Namjoon agreed, while everyone worried in silence. It was like a secret that ran within the apparent perfect family, everyone knew, but nobody commented on it. "I'll take some brownies to cheer you up." He smiled and packed the candy from the table.

"Great. Let's hope there are no more problems to solve by tomorrow morning" Bora summed up the meeting, looking at his cell phone watch and swallowing that morning's fifth candy. "One fam, fighting!", And with that she got up and hurriedly left the room, as usual.

"Well, it's time for me to leave too." announced Daniel, after smiling at his friend's attitude and picking up his book along with a box of oatmeal cookies. "Thank you so much for breakfast. If you need me, you know where to find me." before walking out the door, now ajar, he turned to the table. "And Anna, after taking care of the girls, goes home to sleep. A great job also needs a night's rest, and we're going to need it to its fullest tomorrow." He smiled and left the room.

"He's right, we can't debut these girls if you fall exhausted in the hall. Hyunsik, after escorting the girls to the celebration dinner, take her home, please." Jimin asked, hurrying to finish an argument that would have no end if it depended on Anna. Her persistence was great for the job, but when she became stubborn, no one could stop her. "Anyway, as soon as they finish cleaning their new house we should go over there to examine the route. Namjoon, after finishing Prism's comeback schedule, take them to lunch, and they worked hard for it."

"We agreed to celebrate at dinner, I already booked their favorite karaoke room. Wheenie will spend the afternoon with you in the studio finishing recording the solo, Moon is finishing the choreography for the final survival stage, Stelar is getting ready for the recordings. of the new drama and I asked Hyejin to rest before tomorrow ". The older man remembered, earning a smile from the CEO, amused by his own distraction. "And that is why I will never work without you! Anna and Hyunsik will be able to take care of the trainees and organize them in the new house then? Or Kingdom also has some schedule that I don't remember?", He laughed at the joke itself.

"They will be rehearsing for the final stage today as well, but nothing that requires my presence. I can follow Anna and the girls without any problems." He shrugged, proud to have released his schedule for that day. "Great! Anna, if you can move on to Hyunsik how the dorm will be organized, I appreciate it. Do we close our meeting then?" Everyone waved, standing up. With a smile and a nod, Jimin left the room with three boxes of food that he would probably take to the recording studio and would support him for the rest of the day.

Namjoon opened the door for the youngest and headed for the dance studio on the third floor, beginning another pleasant day at work. Anna went to her table, followed by a concerned Hyunsik, almost like a puppy. "I thought about separating them by age, so they don't have to worry too much about formalities and any problems they encounter can be easily solved ..."

"Anna." Hyunsik called out worriedly, failing to interrupt her friend. "I know it is not what they are used to, but I think it is a good idea to help them interact independently from the group that is formed. After all, in this industry, any friendship is essential for their mental strengthening ..."

"Anna." She tried again in vain to stop the train of thoughts that kept flowing. "I'm more concerned with the younger ones, if they don't debut they will be extremely frustrated, if they debut it will take a lot more than someone normal their age. I'm worried about Hiyori, Lyra and Seoryu too. They are the oldest, they are probably thinking that if they don't debut now they won't have a chance and- "

"Anna!" The girl was interrupted by Hyunsik now holding her shoulders and turning all her attention to him. After realizing the position they were in, he released her and took a deep breath. "I won't scold you about how important it is that you sleep, I know you don't want to hear that." The girl took a deep breath of relief. She liked her friend's concern, but she just wanted to worry about leaving the girls well, and if she needed to sacrifice every night's sleep for the next six months, that was what she would do. "If you want to check on them, I'll just see if the boys need anything else. I'll meet you at the studios as soon as I can, okay?" The girl waved smiling, earning a smile back. "And don't worry about dinner, I know the perfect place for us to go together!"

Anna's eyes shone with anticipation, there was only one place that would accept booking the entire restaurant for so many people in the nick of time. Omma Jigu was her favorite restaurant and went whenever she had money, she would never forget how Hyunsik's mother welcomed her when she joined the company as if she were her own mother, let alone all the dumplings she took home that day. Smiling and jumping with joy, she headed to the second floor to find her future protégés. She hoped from the bottom of her heart that the girls would feel as welcome in that place as she had, and hoped even more that, regardless of the outcome, they could feel welcomed by the family that that company had become over the years. Even if some of them could not make their debut at that time, she knew very well that they would not be abandoned. After all, inside his briefcase he contained a plan B for each of them.

#wip #kpop #fanfic #survival #reality show #drama-ish

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an-angels-blessing · 3 years ago

Text

Song Prompts #1

“Will nature make a man of me yet?”- The Smiths, This Charming Man

“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?”- Lynyrd Skynyrd, Free Bird

“When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her.”- Hozier, Work Song

“I don’t think that we should be alone together, when we’re in a room you get my eyes, you open your mouth I’m hypnotised”- The Neighbourhood, Single

“She looks as if she’s blowing a kiss at me and suddenly the sky is a scissor”- Arctic Monkeys, That’s where you’re wrong

“You think you want to be alone, just wait until you’re crying on the shower floor”

“They’ve got a pretty face, but they’ve got a pretty empty head.”

“But how the hell do you fall in love, the last time I checked you can’t fall in slow mo”- LANY- The Breakup *There were too many good ones in this song, I couldn’t help myself*

“I know it’s mad, but if I go to hell will you go with me or just leave?” - Panic! At The Disco, Do you know what I’m seeing?

“I don’t know who’s protecting me, but we hit it off”- Drake, Sandra’s Rose

“Do me a favour and break my nose, do me a favour and tell me to go away?”- Arctic monkeys, Do me a favour

“Baby just came back around, said she needs time to explore, said I can’t love her no more”- The Neighbourhood, Baby came home

“Just one mistake, you say you’re not in love no more, but was it really love if you can leave me for something so innocent is this the end?”- LANY, Thick and thin

“You can have Manhattan, I know it’s for the best, I’ll gather up the avenues and leave them on your doorstep. I’ll tiptoe away so you won’t have to say you heard me leave.”

“You can have Manhattan, the one we used to share, the one where we were laughing and drunk on just being there. Hang onto the reverie, could you do that for me?”- Sara Bareilles, Manhattan

“You don’t love me, big fucking deal, I’ll never tell you how I feel.”

“I’ll send my best regards from Hell”- Marina and the Diamonds, Starring Role

“I been writing these songs ‘bout how I can’t be with you. I don’t want to be a monster, but I’ve been here for days, drinking too much now I want you, can’t get you off my brain.”- Henry, Monster, Eng. version

“Change lives, get better, yeah that be the plan”

“That’s why you see me winning, yeah, even after I lose”- Jay Park, Ask bout me

“Love is not looking over shoulders, Love is you should trust what I told you”

“Love is not struggling to say I love you”- 6LACK, Disconnect

“All these people taking miles when you give them an inch, all these followers but who’s gonna follow me until the end?”- Drake, Emotionless

“She’s in the rain, you wanna hurt yourself I’ll stay with you, you wanna make yourself go through that pain, It’s better to be held than holding on,”- The Rose, She’s In The Rain *Absolutely love this one, don’t @ me, I will die for the The Rose**

“Sex by the fire at night”- Bruno Mars, That’s What I Like

“I’ve got the good side of you, sent it out into the blue.”- Troye Sivan, Good Side

“Standing by the window, rain falling, I want to have you full in my embrace and tell you, even when I’m born again and love you, even then, will you be with me?”- KREAM, 선물 Gift *Translated*

“It all passes, Someday, For sure, Certainly”- RM, ft. NELL, everythingoes *Translated*

“Please stay as long as you need, can’t promise that things won’t be broken, but I swear that I will never leave. Please stay forever with me”- Sleeping With Sirens, Scene One- James Dean & Audrey Hepburn

“When you move, I’m put to mind of all that I wanna be, when you move

I could never define all that you are to me”- Hozier, Movement

“Wake up and smell the coffee, is your cup half full or empty?”- Billie Eilish, come out and play

“Am I a bad person? Or am I just in pain?”- DEAN, Sulli, Rad Museum, Dayfly *Translated*

“Kiss me on the lips, a secret just between the two of us, deeply poisoned by the jail of you, I cannot worship anyone but you and I knew the grail was poisoned but I drank it anyway”- BTS, Blood Sweat & Tears *Translated*

“When the sun sets and darkness comes, I only remember your warmth, where the stars wrap around us. I’m going there, I’ll be there”- SEVENTEEN, Highlight *Translated*

“I don’t ever wanna feel like anything I do ever had a fucking resonance or meant a thing to you.”- Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes, I Hate You

“You can’t take this away from me, the way I hit the melody, the waves bring clarity, running through me”- Tom Misch, Del La Soul, It Runs Through Me

“It was a lie when they smiled and said you won’t feel a thing”- My Chemical Romance, Disenchanted

“The fog has lifted and things get clear, all the lies pass by like a reel of film. I hate you”- EXO, 내가 미쳐 (Going Crazy) *Translated*

“I’m sorry- no, I’m not sorry, I’m just getting started and my life’s a party”- DEAN, Eric Bellinger, I’m Not Sorry

“Ain’t it fun, living in the real world?”- Paramore, Ain’t It Fun

“Ready or not, we are coming back- yeah, we’re over, we can tell you ‘bout what you need. You can look it up when you’re older”- Evergreen, Cargo Cult

“You, you got so much potential, every moment spent with you I bet was always eventful”- Aminé, Kehlani, Heebiejeebies- Bonus

“Could you imagine the taste of your lips if we never tried to kiss on the drive to Queens? ‘Cause I imagine the weight of your ribs if you lied between my hips in the backseat”- Halsey, Roman Holiday

“Forever isn’t for everyone, is forever for you?”- Arctic Monkeys, Snap Out Of It

“Wish you good luck being lonely, I’mma push red every time you phone me. You vow to be a memory”- Ella Mai, ft. Ty Dolla $ign, She Don’t

“I’ve been dazed and confused from the day I met you, yeah I lost my head and I’d do it again”- Ruel, Dazed & Confused

“I just want you closer, is that alright? Baby let’s get closer tonight”- Paolo Nutini, Last request

“You have no idea how pretty you are when you wake from sleep, you have no idea how beautiful you look as you get ready for bed”- Zion.T, No Makeup *Translated*

“I was thinking I could fly to your hotel tonight, baby, ‘cos I can’t get you off my mind”- Shawn Mendes, Lost In Japan

“She’s soothing like the ocean rushing on the sand, she takes care of me, baby, she helps me be a better man. She’s so beautiful, sometimes I stop to close my eyes, she’s exactly what I need”- Jeremy Passion, Lemonade

“And her lips are like the galaxy’s edge and her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place”- Arctic Monkeys, Arabella

“It’s how you look, not how you feel. A city of glass with no heart”- Queens of the Stone Age, If I Had a Tail

“I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife”- Hozier, Take Me To Church

“Bitter and hardened heart, Oh, aching- waiting for life to start”- Keane, Bend & Break

“When you move I’m put to mind of all that I wanna be, when you move I could never define all that you are to me”- Hozier, Movement

“She said, ‘Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love, 'cause what if it’s not reciprocated?’ I told her, ‘Don’t rush girl, don’t you rush, guess it’s all a game of patience.’”- Pink Sweat$, Honesty

“Share a casket with you, we’ll be buried alive, me and her playing truth ‘til the day we die.”- Granata Ft. Phoniks, You Dont Need Me

“And hope that I had survived yesterday, and today is jealous of tomorrow.”- Emeli Sandé, Breathing Underwater

“Heaven if you sent us down so we could build a playground for the sinners to play as saints, you’d be so proud of what we’ve made.” Stephen, Crossfire

“Tell me how do you cope with it? How do you sleep with yourself at night? How do you cope with it? How do you sleep with yourself at night?”- blackbear, make daddy proud

“If anyone looks perfect, you look perfect next to me.”- Nick Wilson, Obsolete

“When I meet you after time passes, I’ll know (you were my future), I’ll know (I was your yesterday). When I meet you after time passes, I’ll know (you protected me), I’ll know (I desired you).”- SEVENTEEN (Wen Junhui & Xu Minghao), My I *Translated*

“I need my sex n’ drugs, I need my money first, bless me with all my sins.”- Abhi The Nomad, Ft. Harrison Sands & Copper King, Sex ‘n Drugs

“Naked and fallin’ in love, look here I got you. Safe where there’s no one to judge, keep it insightful.”- Keiynan Lonsdale, Preach

“All alone, all we know is haunting me, making it harder to breathe, harder to breathe.”- The Neighbourhood, Leaving Tonight

“Now I see you get off of the subway, haven’t seen you in months but it’s okay. I’d forgotten but I feel the same, hate that I still wish you were…”- Claud, Wish You Were Gay

“A perfect stranger lying next to me, he’s playing God with broken figurines. He keeps calling me his little queen and I believe.”- Jake Wesley Rogers, Little Queen (This song deserves way more recognition, make sure to give it a listen!)

“Hell is so close to Heaven, hell is so close to Heaven. Hold on don’t look back, you know we’re better- we’re better than that. Lost and thrown away, you know we’re better- we’re better than that.”- Sleeping With Sirens, The Strays

“Alone tonight, I’m drawing my dreams across the sky farther than I can imagine- She wants it.”- CIX, Movie Star *Translated*

“Yeah I mixed words and some whiskey on the flight just to make sure I landed on time and I wrote me a song I could sing just in case I forgot everything.”- Marc E. Bassy, Last One I Love

“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know, learned my lesson way too long ago.”

“Deadly fever, please don’t ever break, be my reliever 'cause I don’t self medicate”- Billie Eilish, my strange addiction

“And it’s worth it, it’s divine, I have this some of the time.”- Hozier, Cherry Wine

“And I realize you’re mine, Indeed, a fool am I.”- Queens of the Stone Age, No One Knows

“Look in the mirror ‘til I forget everything I know, everything I did was just a way to make the time feel faster.”- Miya Folick, Stock Image

“Do you feel how I feel? Are you numb? Do you tread crystal waters, bound to be stung? Are you scared? If I see you, we’re upon,

will you dye your hair dark so you’re no longer blonde?”- Isaac Dunbar, Cologne

“Tell me; To you I’m bad & hurtful. Because I’ve been busy, you’re hurting. Bad, bad, bad, I’m bad, bad.”- Crush, NAPPA (나빠) *Translated*

“Just for the record, the weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of: A. Indifference or B. disinterest to what the critics say.”- Panic! At The Disco, London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines

“‘Cause you don’t say what you feel, I’m the one driving but you take the wheel. You wanna wait, 'til we’re older, I’m the one who started this, but now I just want closure.”- Ieuan, Closure

“Our names carved in the pavement, sealed by what’s left of our handprints, now. I told my mom, she’d love to meet you, but it’s too bad she won’t get the chance to.”- COIN, Malibu 1992

“I’m running outta time to hold you close, running outta time to be your man. I’m just lost in this moment, I’ve been zoning.”- blackbear, 4u

“Standing on your mama’s porch, you told me that you’d wait forever. Oh and when you held my hand, I knew that it was now or never”- Bryan Adams, Summer Of ‘69

“I’ll go out, grow my hair too long, sing your least favourite songs at the top of my lungs. I’ll go out, kiss all of your friends, make a story and pretend it was me who made this end.”- The Vamps, Hair Too Long

“Getting my mind right, I’ll wait 'til the time’s right. I’m meaning to tell you why it’s hard to sleep at night. There’s nothing to fear now, girl, we should be here now. So why don’t you hear me out?”- Jeremy Zucker, Ft. blackbear, talk is overrated

“We haven’t spoke since you went away, comfortable silence is so overrated. Why won’t you ever be the first one to break? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”- Harry Styles, From the Dining Table

“Look overhead at the stars and the ocean, foggy emotions, moments, erosion. This supernova could cause a commotion, my minds of the notion, you’ll still be my motive”- Ansel Elgort, Supernova

“I love that new dress you bought, yeah, you sure look nice. Heard you liked that new restaurant, you know, I’ve been there twice. And the way that you switch up your hair, all of the moments we’ve shared, strolling the streets back in Rome, oh, how I wish I was there. It ain’t fair.”- Ruel, Face To Face

“Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back. Even while we sleep we will find you acting on your best behaviour, turn your back on mother nature.”- Tear For Fears, Everybody Wants to Rule the World

“I’m wide awake, not losing any sleep, I picked up every piece and landed on my feet. I’m wide awake, need nothing to complete myself, no.” Katy Perry, Wide Awake

“If you don’t realize, all of the things your life can do you will be left behind, swept up by the storm of those you knew.”- Meltycanon, thankful

“I always knew that we’d be by each other’s side forever, now our time has come and I’d be satisfied if we died together. Yeah, our climate’s fucked, we might as well enjoy the weather, our time is up and I’d be satisfied if we died together.”- Samsa, Anthropocene

“There’s still so much to say, I’m faded, broken, pretending you’re on the line, wasting my time. Sinking deeper, watching you spend your night,

like I’ll be fine and I’ll be over this.”- NYK, Faded

“I’d rather go to hell, than be in purgatory, cut my hair, gag and bore me, pull this pin, let this world explode.”- My Chemical Romance, Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)

“I reached for a shooting star, it burned a hole through my hand

Made its way through my heart, had fun in the promised land.”- blink-182, Wishing Well

“Let go of your baggage, but don’t think I don’t understand it’s probably a challenge,”- Isaac Lewis, Fly

“It’s been a long night in New York city, it’s been a long night in Baton Rouge. I don’t remember you looking any better, but then again, I don’t remember you.”- John Mayer, Who Says

Prompts 101-119

#song prompts #prompts

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nigahamyeon · 4 years ago

Text

hearts awakened

i. a man's heart

Yisoo woke with the first rays at the break of dawn. Her eyes still closed, she could feel the beginning warmth of the sun on her face. Slowly, she raised her head, opening her eyes and blinking a few times. The window of her small room was facing east, and her bed was standing right in front of it, so she could feel the first sunbeams on her, everyday.

After a few moments of just looking outside, she raised her shoulders, sat up, and extended her front legs into a long stretch that she could feel through her entire body. Then she rolled onto her back, then onto her legs again and jumped out of bed.

Yisoo was a Gumiho, in Korean legends known as the nine-tailed fox, a kind of shifter. And she always slept as a fox. She could never really figure it out how to sleep in her human form, every position felt awkward, she never really knew what to do with her legs in relation to her torso – she had read about different sleeping positions, of course, but it all just felt so unnatural, and she was never able to relax. As a fox, however, sleeping was intuitive. Just curl up into a ball, tails around you, head on your hind legs. Easy. Sleep guaranteed.

It took a few moments until Yisoo fully transformed into her human form. Right after waking up she had difficulties getting her ears and tails to fully vanquish, especially since she felt herself weaken again. But she had already taken care of that, tonight she'd get stronger again. When her body turned into a slender figure of average height, she stretched out her human arms while standing on tiptoes.

First the fluff brush – she used it every morning to get rid of all her fur that she left behind on her bed when sleeping as a fox. Second, washing up, brushing the hair and styling it into a loose braid. Then clothes, and lastly, putting on make-up. Objectively, she wasn't in need of any kind of make-up as Yisoo was more beautiful than the common Korean girl, but she just loved the way a winged eyeliner made her slanted eyes look, and she could make her face look a little bit less fox-like.

She put on her necklace, a simple golden one with a blue-shimmering bead pendant, also known as yeowoo guseul – just that it didn't hold her powers and intelligence, like in the legends, but her very soul. It was the most important part of her, and if she was separated from it too long, she would die. Well, not instantly, but she’d get gradually weaker until she couldn’t keep up her human form anymore. And if someone were to destroy it… well, she didn’t actually know what would happen then. But she’d probably die as well.

By the time she was finished with her morning routine it was already half past 7, and she had barely time to eat something for breakfast.

“Good morning,” Jongho greeted her as she was rushing into the pathetic excuse of a kitchen that was part of the apartment. He had a cup of coffee in hand, handing it over to her to take a few sips.

“Thanks,” Yisoo mumbled and opened the fridge, just to see that it was almost empty. Not even the yoghurt that she had saved was there any more, one of her many roommates must've eaten it. She hated most of them. Except Jongho.

“I heard Outside Conformist are playing tonight at the Flask tonight, you wanna come?” he asked her, trying to lean casually against the counter.

“I can't, tonight is the night, you know? I already prepared everything,” Yisoo looked apologetically at him.

She really liked Jongho, even though he was a werewolf. Generally, Yisoo disliked all kinds of canines, even though she was, technically, also one. Never, in her whole life (and she had lived for a long, long time), had she had any good experiences with any kinds of wolves, dogs and the kind. But Jongho was different, maybe it was because he wasn't part of a pack (he used to be, but was shunned by them for a reason he never told her) or maybe because he was generally just different. Either way, Yisoo wasn't blind nor stupid, she had picked up on the fact that he showed signs of romantic interest in her. She could smell the pheromones he produced, and she could read the body language. It was more than obvious.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said, “does it have to be tonight, though? The hunters have been really active lately.”

“Yeah, they've been onto me for a while now,” Yisoo sighed, “but it has to be tonight. Can't throw away weeks of preparation, you know.”

“Yeah, I'm just worried is all,” he looked at the bottom of his cup.

“Let's go out tomorrow night, all right? Outside Conformist may not be playing, but we'll find something else to do,” she said and his face instantly lit up. With a look at the clock, she said her goodbyes and see you laters, took her coat and bag and made her way to the subway station.

It was a very usual morning, a lot of traffic and Yisoo made it just in time to catch the subway. It was crowded and it stank after sweat and kimchi. With her nose and ears being more sensitive than those of a human, she had always a hard time riding the subway, or the bus, or actually any kind of public transportation. But she did her best to live a life as ordinarily human as possible. Even enrolled into university and studied some random subject that she found vaguely interesting.

When she arrived at university, she still had enough time to get a cappuccino from the campus coffee shop and got into the lecture hall at the same time as her professor did. He smiled painfully obvious towards her, and she feigned a cheeky smile back at him. Some harmless flirting, but it'd make sure to help her grade a bit. Yisoo scanned the room for an empty seat, and sat somewhere in the middle next to a girl that she already knew. Kind of. They saw each other frequently and maybe they had talked, once or twice. She was a nice girl, very fun to be around and it seemed like she had a lot of friends. Yisoo sometimes imagined being friends with her, with a human. What it would be like, she wondered. During all her years, she had ever really been close to mythical creatures, like herself.

For lunch she went to a ramen shop near the university that was run by a Fae. Yisoo could only wonder why no one ever picked up on the fact that he was so painfully obviously not human. It was nothing she thought about too often, much rather she'd eat up her bowl of noodles and not think about anything.

After that, more university and then she'd go to her own part-time job – an employee at a gas station in a rather shady part of Seoul. She could've gotten a better job, at a better location that paid her better, but Yisoo chose this gas station for a reason. It was in a district that was rather problematic, a lot of humans, almost no otherworldly creatures. Many of the people that lived here were social outcasts, criminals of all sorts and really just the scum of society.

It was perfect.

She did meet a lot of drunks here, sex offenders and abusers. Yisoo was not afraid of them, there really was no human who could ever meet eye-to-eye with her when it came to fighting. But, as she still was a Gumiho, she had to consume a human heart every so often – and she stopped killing just about anyone, no. With the hunters being as active as they were, and Gumihos being classified as dangerous and therefore being actively hunted by them, she couldn't murder blatantly obvious. Also, she just didn't want to. Since she developed consciousness, Yisoo started to just look for her prey in men that she considered the scum of the earth. So, actually, she was doing the world a favour in eating their heart. And, of course, with these types of people it took a long time before someone found out they're missing and start looking for them. Win-win.

Her shift was over at 10pm and her date, or rather dinner, for the night was already waiting for her. He looked like he didn’t even really try, wearing the clothes he usually wore when he went to buy liquor late at night. One might’ve thought that he wanted to impress her in some way, but it didn’t look like it. For him, it was an easy way to get laid, since she planted the seeds for some daddy issues and other things that could make girls potentially go for pathetic older guys. They walked from the gas station to - what he thought - was in the direction of her apartment. In reality, though, Yisoo was luring him into the forest where no one would be at night to hear him scream.

They were walking at a rather slow pace, he was telling her about his time in the Korean army, she pretended to care and laughed from time to time. He didn’t even notice that they were walking past trees and trees and even more trees, slowly deviating from the path. It was pitch black, and he only realised it when Yisoo suddenly stopped. Manipulating men was just too fucking easy. And yet, even though she was extraordinarily careful in choosing her prey, she still felt bad for him. A little. He was talking to her, and Yisoo felt his pulse rising, his heart pumping faster and faster. Funny, she didn’t take him for someone who was scared so easily. Just a bit of darkness and a mysterious lady inside a forest were enough to trigger his flight instinct. A shame, really, Yisoo thought as she felt her hands slowly turn into claws and her animalistic instincts growing louder and louder. She did like it when they tried to fight her.

It was over before it even started. With the swift motion of her claws she pierced through his chest, an agonising cry of pain leaving his mouth but before he could finish it she ripped his ribcage open. The heart was still beating for a few moments, and Yisoo transformed fully into a nine-tailed fox before feasting on his heart. She knew of some Gumihos who actually ate the heart in their human forms, and she could never understand why. Human teeth weren’t made for chewing the strong muscle of a raw heart.

By the time she was finished it was probably around 10:45pm, she thought. Maybe she even got home in time for the new episode of one of the dramas she watched at the moment. And maybe was Jongho also home already, and they could watch it together. Still a fox she was digging a whole with her fore-paws. It was just faster that way. Plus, it was necessary, just because no one was looking for him didn’t mean that no one could find him. Leaving the corpse of a man out with just his heart missing? Not such a good idea. Yisoo grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the hole, covering it up with the dirt and some leaves. Should do well enough.

That’s when she heard the snapping of a twig - followed by the sound of an arrow piercing through the sky. But it was too late - by the time she could react she already felt the sharp pain of the bolt in her thigh - it had gone right through. Yisoo yelped, bit the arrow head and pulled the whole thing out before running for her life. Her leg was throbbing, she felt the blood drooling out and the pain was so strong she could barely put her paw on the ground. As she was speeding through the forest and had almost reached the city, she felt the pain pass and her leg getting stronger again. Once she turned into a side street and hid behind a giant trash container, she quickly turned into her human shape again, hoping they wouldn’t recognise her this way and giving herself a bit more time. For a few moments, she just stood there, back pressed against the cold stone wall, and listened. Nothing.

The hunters were onto her. Never had it been this close before. How could this have happened, she had been so careful all this time. Yisoo felt her heart beating frantically in her chest. Her fingers were closing tightly around her yeowoo guseul - and she took the pendant and put it deep in her cheek pouch. Yisoo felt the cool surface against her teeth and mucous, and the magic of her very own soul pulsating in her mouth. For just a second she wondered what would happen if she would just… swallow it. It would still be with her - inside her gastrointestinal tract, to be precise. But she didn’t swallow it. Once again she listened closely but she couldn’t make out any sounds that might belong to the hunter. Cautiously, but as casually as possible, she started walking out of the side street and nearer and nearer towards the main road. Yisoo scanned every person that she saw and kept her ears on high alert for any alarming sounds. Her heart was still pounding in her chest.

She crossed the street and was now only one block away from the well lit main road. Two guys, all in black, were suddenly just a few feet away, right in front of her. Yisoo could smell blood, and a distinct smell that she never smelled before, but was told of. The smell of not one, but two hunters. It was a gamble. Would they know that she was the Gumiho that they were looking for? Or would they only be alarmed if she changed her behaviour now? One step, two steps. Her eyes followed the guy who was next to her. Time seemed to stand still for the moment that they were passing each other. Yisoo could feel her blood hammering inside of her. In the corner of her eye she saw him moving his arm inhumanly fast, and a sword appearing out of nowhere. Yisoo was faster and leaped away. Right into the arms of the second hunter, who was suddenly behind her, his fingers clawed into her shoulder.

Then she felt the sharp edge piercing through her flesh. And her heart. A deep grunt escaped her throat, her knees giving up under her, her body hitting the concrete ground. Even through the pain, she kept her jaw shut tightly. When he removed the sword, she grunted again. The blood was pooling out of her. And then it stopped.

“What. the. fuck.”

#ateez #ateez writing #ateez au #ree

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anonthenullifier · 3 years ago

Note

So…how’s that next chapter of post hoc going?

It’s coming along. I’m 2/3rds into it. Ideally it’ll be done in a week (or so), but until then, here’s a small look at the chapter. 🙂

________________

The composed email lazes on his computer screen, so carefree and unassuming despite the threat inherent in its existence. “Just click send.”

“I am working my way to it.”

Wanda’s raised eyebrows doubt his resolve, the ring on her right index finger clinking out her impatience against his You know what gets on my nerves? Myelin mug. “Want me to do it?”

“No, because then you will see the recipient’s name.” They had established in their original IRB that he alone would have access to the names of their participants, a necessary risk since someone has to code for individual level characteristics and be able to connect the gifts with the RSVPs. Once data collection is completed and all data coded to Wanda’s liking, he will deidentify it all so she can analyze it without compromising any personal information of their participants. Given their current predicament, he even had to remove her access to the email account. Regardless of this agreed upon protocol, it has not stopped her from slyly trying to get him to slip up. “I will have the courage any moment now.”

A pointed sip of her tea actually helps, marginally, his nerves splitting between the email and her undivided attention, though one is more pleasant than the other. “Treat it like a bandaid.”

Not psychologically unsound. The fact he is cogitating so much on sending the email is itself a cognitive issue of impact bias where he presumes (wrongly) that it will be emotionally negative enough that he is now seeking to avoid it. In reality, he knows it will be much like the bandaid Wanda is suggesting. If he just sends it and then seeks out distraction or some other task, the negative emotions will not only be less intense but have a shorter duration. He just needs to trust his psychological immune system. “Very well,” he accepts this is the best path forward but he still reads the email one more time, making sure that the tone is one of sharing information and not desperation given they are informing their participant of the fact that a scheduling error has led them to move their wedding to a state park pavilion an hour away. This will not ruin their study, and even if it does harm the data, they have strategies to ameliorate the impact. The world will not end, even if his heart seems to think it will. “All right...” Vision slowly clicks the send button “here we go,” and there is no taking it back now.

“I’m proud of you.”

The hand patting his shoulder is already activating his coping mechanisms, his right leg crossing over his left as he swivels his chair to face her. “Before I stumble into the depths of rumination,” something she finds far more amusing than he does, “perhaps we can find something not related to our study to discuss.”

Whenever faced with a task, Wanda’s eyes wander in thought. He always imagines she is tracing the threads of topics and trying to find the one farthest from where he thinks she will go. “I’m beginning to suspect my work with Hank is an attempt to rekindle his failed marriage.”

“Fascinating.” Of the core group he spends time with, Vision is always the one absent any gossip. In a way this should be uplifting to his moral standing and staunchness to not belittle others, but then it leaves him in the quandary of wanting to remain aloof while also very much fascinated by what Wanda is dangling before him. Information gathering does not have to be synonymous with gossiping, as one is passive and the other active. “What makes you reach that conclusion?”

“Okay,” the mug descends onto his desk with an excited thud and Wanda leans forward, hands ready to gesticulate her way through the information, “so Janet van Dyne, his estranged wife, is one of the foremost quantum computing minds and has started doing a lot of work on quantum time travel.”

“Oh I dislike time travel.” Because the rules are never followed and the consequences are rarely sensical.

“You’ll be happy to know she hasn’t achieved it yet.”

“I am much relieved.”

Wanda scrunches her nose for a half second before continuing, “But what she has been working on is a computational model of whether the butterfly effect would actually exist in quantum time travel.”

An effect he knows she dislikes and yet she is invigorated at the thought. “To make sure I am following, you are saying that she is trying to mathematically establish whether going back in time and fiddling with the past would actually impact the future?”

Wanda nods, the sheer enjoyment she gets from the topic leading to an antsiness that shifts between turning her mug a couple degrees at a time, pushing her hair behind her ear, and varying the positioning of her legs. “So far she’s found evidence that if we view time with a quantum lens, it actually might correct itself when small changes happen and that the original timeline might remain resilient enough to outlast the change.”

“Does this not inherently contradict your own work?”

“Not entirely,” an ounce of uncertainty shoulders into her voice, “quantum chaos still exists but she seems to suggest it acts differently with competing timelines and reality could have a self-correcting mechanism.”

It all seems a bit too muddled for his ability to comprehend the difference. “What is it that you and Hank are doing that is meant to fix their personal timeline?”

“He’s been insisting on us doing a lot of different quantum walks,” she explained this to him some time ago, complete with a diagram of a quantum tree. It is all about the pathway photons travel to get from one point to another, but not linearly. All of the branches intersect and so their studies are about predicting when jumps between branches occur and how to determine movement. In his mind it is like the subway, how there are various lines that intersect at any given station and that you could take four travelers from station A and ask them to find their way to Station F. They could all take the same series of trains or switch between lines, maybe even one travels by bus or foot for a time. Most people would only ever consider the start and the end and determine the journey must be linear, even when it might not be, especially if there are delays or lines shut down. No doubt it is far more complicated than that. “I mean a lot of different ones to try and disprove her findings. I only found out because I noticed he’d been publishing commentaries to her articles and using our data as support for his arguments.”

“How precisely is challenging her work meant to win her back?”

Wanda finishes her tea but doesn’t let go of the cup, her fingers tracing the glossy raised letters, “Hoping she’s intellectually turned on by it?”

There are researchers in his own niche area that have a similar, albeit non-romantic (he presumes) dynamic of obsession to always counter each other, to always craft a study meant to disprove the theoretical underpinnings of the other’s work. It’s why conferences can get dicey when the alcohol is free flowing and debates erupt over empathy and selfishness and how to delineate the two movitations. “I cannot speak for Janet, but it seems a bit more depressing than romantic.”

“At least it’s distracting him from his ant obses—-“ The tell tale chime of their study’s email disrupts her, “What do you think we got this time?”

“Let’s see,” he switches to the tab and in place of the usual notification from their wedding website there is an email sitting there with the sender as Tony Stark. Physiologically his heart remains firmly in his chest, but figuratively it plummets through the floor, “It is from our participant.”

In the time it takes for the comment to be processed and her, “That participant?” Vision has already read the response twice, his eyes going back for a third read through to make sure he has not found himself in some alternative universe created by his neurons firing too quickly.

#Ask anon #Replies #post hoc #Scarlet vision

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barnesandco · 5 years ago

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Nikah: September

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, pain, visiting a graveyard.

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s writing challenge. I’m sorry for the one-day delay. This weekend’s second chapter - October - should be up tomorrow. Please comment and reblog! Thank you for reading!

Time heals many wounds. The scar left by the urge for revenge is not one of them, Bucky learns when he gets the call informing him of the capture of his wife’s kidnapper. He’s in an obscure corner of New York, deep into the maze of fabrics and colors, when Sam’s voice - congratulatory and bone-tired - gives him the news. Bucky was excluded from the investigation due to personal connection to the victim, and placed on an obligatory sick leave after his… incident. The cliff’s edge his wife pulled him back from.

Yet he has managed to learn certain details. Such as the fact that there was no greater plot, no Hydra involvement, only a psychopathic monster out for blood and pain. The type of men there is no shortage of in this world of grue and terror. He does not want to subject her to any more of it, but she is too intelligent to allow him to take that choice from her. She does not consider this, them, him to be terrible or cruel.

Now, she turns to him from the silk she’s examining after a minute too long of his mental absence. Cocks her head as she takes note of the phone in his hand, the conversation itself having passed her by amidst her other preoccupations and the lull of Bollywood music in the air.

“Everything okay? It can get kind of stuffy in here, so if you want to get some air-”

“I’m fine, doll,” He insists, letting the cloud of her perfume envelope him like her rare embraces.

“Okay,” She says dubiously. “Let me know if you want to go.”

Her concern is touching, but Bucky doesn’t know if he should open his heart to it or blockade against it. Thankfully, she changes the subject.

“What do you think?” She asks, gesturing toward the selection of fabrics she seems to have shortlisted. Her cousin’s wedding is in December, which apparently requires preparation months prior, in the form of shopping for a new lehenga. Or the materials to have one made, rather. Bucky looks from the deep purple to the vivid mauve to the sea green and tries hard not to shrug.

“I bet they’ll all look gorgeous on you.”

“I only need one, Buck, and I’m having trouble choosing between the green and mauve,” She says, pointing to the fabric she can’t decide between.

“They’re both nice,” He says, but upon seeing her frown deepen, he adds: “The green one’s a jaw dropper.” She grins in agreement and seeks out a shopkeeper to cut the required length of cloth.

Sam’s voice echoes in his mind as they exit the shop for the one next door. In this one, he takes in the piles of lace and borders and ornate brooches and buttons while the rage simmers below the surface. He can no longer tell if the flush in his cheeks is from the bridled anger or the warmth caused by his wife’s presence. Her keen eyes are scanning a row of spectacular trimmings, and she sighs at the difficulty of the choice.

Craning her neck, she spots the one she wants but soon realizes she cannot reach. Bucky doesn’t give her the time to ask for his assistance, reaching up over her to grab the reel of golden, glittering trim she’s pointed out. The electricity that crackles when his front meets her back in the process is almost enough to forget the disapproving glares from the two middle-aged shop owners. Almost.

Their kind wrinkles have turned colder but she thaws them with a smile and the familiar, polite title of uncle. Another common term in the desi vernacular, log kya kahenge - what will people say? - replays in his brain like an audio cassette, the expression having been the subject of many a frustrated, late-night rant he has absorbed from his wife. There will surely be a rerun later today, unless he gives her the news of her attackers capture before she has the opportunity to launch her case against South Asian obsession with public reputation. By the time they leave, the elderly gentlemen are at ease while Bucky is not, staying three paces behind until they’re out of sight.

“ ‘M sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have-” His sentence is cut off by her razor sharp glare as she halts on the sidewalk.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Bucky Barnes. If I had a problem with you grazing against me while trying to help with something, I’d have made it quite clear,” She declares, taking his hand and steering them towards the subway. Sunday shoppers mill about, enjoying the last of the summer sun before autumn takes its place. They carry bags of their own, but few match the ones Bucky is carrying. Queens’ Asian hub is bustling with activity, and he relishes in its awe until he smells the curry house a street down.

He tells her of his discovery in the entrance to the station, and her eyes light up like fireworks on Steve’s birthday - rest his soul - and they turn back for food. Bucky’s nose takes the lead, and six minutes and a wrong turn later, they’re standing like moths to a flame, the scent of spices embedding itself into their nerves. She inhales joyously as they’re taken to the last empty seats, against a wall covered in pictures of Pakistani and Indian monuments. Bucky doesn’t comment on the political tensions he knows are present between the two nations, knowing that governments are rarely as representative of their people’s beliefs as they ought to be.

There isn’t any music either, just the sound of commentary from the cricket match playing on several TV screens. It’s a rerun of the previous year’s World Cup final between England and New Zealand, and his wife looks sourly at it, knowing the results didn’t go the way she wanted them to.

“It all came down to luck in the end,” She comments, picking up the menu. Bucky quirks an eyebrow. “It wasn’t even a fair win. The umpire admitted to faulty judgement, and I don’t blame him, but super overs are such a stressful, inconsistent way of completing the game. New Zealand worked so hard and it was all overturned by a stroke of luck. I feel bad for poor Kane Williamson,” She says, and Bucky puts down the menu as the waiter approaches. The conversation pauses as they place their orders - chicken karahi for him and chicken achari for her - before he says anything.

“Sweetheart, if you think that’s bad, imagine cheatin’ death three times over and getting home to learn that your team’s now playing for the opposite coast. LA Dodgers. Pfft,” He says, shaking his head, and she laughs, corner of her eyes crinkling like silk as her laughter chimes. It’s the only song he knows he’ll never tire of hearing, the one that sounds as good as the day he first heard it.

The first time he makes her laugh is, like many other aspects of his life, hysterically ironic. They’re in a graveyard, dawn taking its rightful place on the horizon. A midnight and a half of walking caused by devilish, sleep-stealing nightmares, eventually led them to Steve’s grave. The ground is unthawing slowly, much like the icy shields they have put up against one another, and she’s holding a bouquet of anemones from a miraculous florist.

She tries to give him the flowers but he shakes his head. His hands shake more violently from inside his jacket pocket and he tries to breathe, the night chill seeping into his skin. Hesitantly, she kneels down, brushes some dust off his tombstone, and places the vividly beautiful flowers in front of it. Rises, bones heavy with sympathy, and turns to him.

“I’m just glad he died in his own bed and not on the battlefield like he seemed so damn hell-bent on doin’. Wouldn’t have wanted that for him,” He muses to ease her tortured expression. Deliver a message of having moved on, having accepted this life without his best man. His best bud.

“He would have been just as happy either way, going by what you’ve told me,” She answers, peering sideways at him from under eyelashes that reflect the last of the moonlight. He gives a short, wistful laugh.

“Yeah. You know what he told me once, still that skinny Brooklyn kid after another fight? He said he’d have fought him even if he’d have been ten times bigger instead of two.” She laughs, too, and although it’s a sad, sorrowful thing, overflowing with exhaustion and despair, Bucky hasn’t heard anything as beautiful since the sound of Sam in his ear after the Blip.

“And he proved that with Thanos. Those bullies were just practice. I laughed at him anyway, but he had the bigger picture in mind that I never did.”

He still doesn’t. Not even now, with his wife’s hand in his, standing in the lobby to the apartment he owns. She tells him they haven’t checked the mail since last Wednesday and they head over to the letter boxes instead. The reason for their marriage, the bigger picture she sees in her head, is pulled out in the form of an envelope from the United States Government. She opens it with shaking hands, and the green card is extracted, heart in throat. Bucky sees the disbelieving joy in her eyes, and thinks: his own is now over.

Taglist: @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @readerandcinephileingeneral @stevieboyharrington @notsomellowmushroom @veganfangirl5 @mood-pancakes @lbuck121 @starnight-charmer @redhairedfeistynerd @geeksareunique @samingtonwilson @alyxkbrl @bucky-smiles

#ayesha writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x desi!reader #desi!reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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moonbeambucky · 6 years ago

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Spills and Drills

Pairing: Dentist!Bucky Barnes x Reader [AU] Word Count: 4862 Warnings: fluff

Summary: Although you love sleeping in you learn that sometimes good things come to those who wake up early.

A/N: This is my submission for @teamcap4bucky Teamcap4bucky’s 2k Celebration Writing Challenge! My prompt was “Why are you staring at me?” Thank you as always to Sam @buckyofthemyscira for beta reading, I love you 3000! 💕 gif not mine

Hushed are the voices around you as the movie theatre lights dim to make way for the bright screen illuminating the upcoming releases. You’re comfortable in the red leather seat, with your hand digging into the bag of popcorn in your lap. The melted butter makes the salt stick to your fingers but you don’t mind at all, sucking them clean into your mouth after each handful.

Your name is called, no, shouted over the heavy thwong of the music in the movie trailer. You nearly jumped in your seat wondering why Shuri is practically screaming your name. As you turn to face her everything seems wrong. She’s wearing the same white dress she wore for her sixteenth birthday party, the white one with the fishnet collar her mother thought was a little too casual for the celebration. Shuri would always be her little princess even if she didn’t dress like one.

“What are you doing?” you questioned as she continued to shout your name. “Stop. No. Shuri, stop it!”

With a gasping breath you’re jolted awake, squinting one eye open to see Shuri standing above you, her palms are still pushing against your shoulders.

“Y/N wake up!”

Oh, it was just a dream. The tension in your body relaxes as you nuzzle your face back into the softness of your pillow. “Shuri stop, lemme sleep, it’s Saturday,” you groaned.

“I know it is, I was sleeping too until your alarm woke me up. That thing has been going off for twenty minutes. Don’t you have an appointment to go to?”

Your eyes shot open. “Shit!”

You get up, throwing the blankets off yourself as fast as possible to get out of bed. Why you decided to make your appointment at 8am you’ll never truly understand. If I get up early I’ll have the whole day to be productive, you mock yourself in your head.

With a wide yawn Shuri leaves your room, saying she’s headed back to bed. Your own bed looks so inviting, it’s calling out for you to come back. It was very tempting to cancel the appointment and go back to sleep but you wouldn’t.

Your dentist is a really nice man who worked with you a few years ago during an emergency visit when you didn’t have insurance. He reduced his fees to the bare minimum and even then let you pay him off over the course of a few months. He had a small practice in Brooklyn he ran with his wife and in the world of cheap deals on Groupon you knew he was struggling a bit.

In less than a minute you were dressed and rushing in to the bathroom to wash the sleep from your face and give a thorough brushing to your teeth. Morning breath was still heavy on your tongue so you made sure to scrape that well too. Checking your phone for the time you realized you might be cutting it close to your appointment, so you grabbed what you needed and headed out.

The subway ride was quick but you still had a few blocks to walk once you got out. The street was a lot busier than you expected especially for so early in the morning but that was mainly due to a new popular cafe that recently opened. The lines were crazy long and as much as you wanted to try their Instagrammable treats you figured you’d wait a little bit for the hype to die down.

Checking your phone once more you realized you had one minute to go and two long blocks to still walk. You picked up the pace and turned the corner at the cafe, looking down to secure your phone back in your bag and not paying attention to the person coming out of the door.

You collided with a solid frame, getting knocked back a bit but thankfully not falling. A dentist appointment is enough, you certainly didn’t need a visit to the emergency room. Something did fall however, the two cups of coffee the man was holding.

“I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, looking down at the mess on the ground, with coffee spilling out from the overturned cups.

Glancing up you saw the man standing there, still holding the now empty coffee tray in his hand, with his mouth gaping open in shock. Your own mouth dropped open while staring at what was possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

Tall and well built, looking unfairly good in a sharp black suit with a simple white button down, casually left open at the top. His rich brown hair was cropped short with perfectly groomed stubble covering his jawline.

Realizing you were gawking at him you shook yourself free from his handsome aura and prompted yourself to actually speak.

“I’m so sorry, please let me pay you for them,” you offered, digging your hand into your bag to pull out some money.

“No need, it was my fault,” he replied, with the words falling from his perfectly pink lips like silk. “Did I spill any on you?”

You were definitely sure this was your fault but the sincerity of his tone combined with the sweetest look those incredible blue eyes were giving you would make you believe anything he said. In response to his question you shook your head, not knowing if you were even telling the truth since you couldn’t bother to pull your gaze away from him again.

“I’m glad to hear that. Could I buy you a coffee for your trouble? Although it might take a while with this line,” he chuckled.

Yes is what you wanted to say. You would have waited in a month long line if it meant you’d be with this incredibly handsome man but you were definitely late to your appointment by now and you simply wouldn’t cancel on your dentist like that.

“I’m sorry I have to go,” you quickly trailed off as your feet began to carry you in the direction you needed to be. “Again, I’m so sorry about the coffee!”

You really wished you had woken up earlier, maybe then you would have had a spare moment to actually talk to the hot guy and try your luck at getting his number. He did offer to buy you a coffee so that seemed promising but then you remembered the two cups spilled on the ground. Two cups of coffee for one person didn’t seem completely unlikely but a guy as hot as that is definitely in a relationship. Oh well.

By the time you reached the office you were slightly out of breath after deciding that you should speed walk the rest of the way there to make up for lost time. It didn’t help that you picked the wrong jacket to wear on the awfully sunny morning.

It took a moment to steady your breathing before you rang the bell and were buzzed in.

“Dr. Barnes!” you exclaimed, not expecting to see him behind the reception desk where his wife usually is. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“That’s alright Y/N, it’s a just a few minutes,” he confirmed, checking the watch on his wrist.

You followed Dr. Barnes down the hallway whose walls were lined with posters of people smiling, showing off bright white teeth that advertised all kinds of dental products and procedures.

“My next appointment actually cancelled,” he said, turning his head back a bit as he continued to take you to the examination room. “Turns out they didn’t want to get up this early on a Saturday.”

“I can’t imagine anyone that would,” you remarked with light sarcasm while sharing a smile.

The exam room had recently been redecorated with beigey-grey wood running throughout the floor. The former textured blue wall paper was gone, replaced by a fresh coat of light grey paint on all but one wall that was a deep teal blue. Dr. Barnes’ old desk and bulky computer were replaced by a modern floating desk and a monitor that was clearly a touch screen, though a wireless keyboard and mouse were on top of the polished surface.

You knew Dr. Barnes wasn’t comfortable with new technology. His flip phone made you laugh every time you saw it but it only added to his endearing charm. His wife Winnie adapted faster to her new phone though she has asked you the occasional question or two.

“The room looks great,” you said, hanging up your jacket on the small hook on the wall. “Did Winnie do this?”

His lips were pulled into a smile as he shook his head, “No, my son actually.”

You sat in the dental chair getting yourself comfortable as Dr. Barnes pressed a button for the automatic cup filler beside you as he continued, “He’s been back for a while now.”

Dr. Barnes would often talk about his children as he made small talk during the exam. His son James had gone to college in Indiana and also studied dentistry. Dr. Barnes had hoped James would eventually work at the family practice.

“…If only he learned to be on time,” Dr. Barnes sighed.

He glanced over at the frame on his desk, an picture of his family from over a decade ago when the kids were younger. From your angle you could see bright happy faces and James smiling with mouth full of metal. The poor kid ticked off all the boxes that made up an awkward teen, braces, acne and a lanky body with long stringy hair that looked like it needed a good wash. Rebecca, his daughter, thankfully didn’t look like she had any of the problems her brother did, and Winnie looked as radiant then as she did now.

“Where is Winnie anyway?” you wondered.

Dr. Barnes smiled at the mention of his wife’s name and you found it endearing to see how clearly in love they were. “Sleeping in this morning. Rebecca’s asked her to come along later while she looks for a wedding dress. Knowing my daughter, Win’s gonna need as much rest as possible!”

His fingers slowly clacked away at the keyboard, making you smile as he used both index fingers to slowly type out your name.”

“With Becca engaged I keep telling James he needs to catch up.”

“I’m sure he appreciates it,” you chuckled.

Dr. Barnes pressed the backspace key a few times, clearly unable to have a conversation while he was concentrating on typing. He let his hands rest in his lap for a moment, running his thumb along the gold band that has long since settled in the groove it created on his finger all those years ago.

“I just want to see him settle down with someone nice,” he said, pressing his lips together to form a tight smile.

You know he meant well and having had similar conversations with your own parents you can only assume the conversations are just as awkward for James as they are for you. A few times you’ve tried to explain to your parents how dating is much different today from their time but they don’t always understand. The conversation about why “nice guys” on the internet don’t actually exist seemed to have gone over their heads so you definitely understand James’ suffering.

“If it makes you feel better my parents say the same thing.”

Dr. Barnes’ sparkling blue eyes lit up at you words, as a smile slowly spread across his face. “Well, can I interest you in my son? He’s much better looking than I am and not a single cavity!”

“No cavities you say? That’s the first thing I look for in a man.”

The crinkles surrounding his eyes were prominent as Dr. Barnes gave a bellowing laugh. After finally pulling up your chart he briefly went over your medical history before taking x-rays. He placed the lead vest on your body and positioned the arm of the machine in place so he could begin. The sound of an ancient ringtone stopped his actions and Dr. Barnes excused himself to take the call in another room.

The weighted vest was comforting against your still sleepy form easing your eyes to gently shut. It would have been very easy to fall asleep but the dentist’s office was not the place for a nap. Instead you forced your eyes open, with a gasp caught in your throat as your jaw dropped in shock at what you saw.

Standing in the hallway in front your exam room was the man you bumped into outside the cafe, holding another tray with two cups of coffee. All thoughts about his looks went away because no matter how blue those eyes were or how chiseled that jawline was he was clearly a crazy stalker.

“Dude, are you kidding me?” Your mouth hung open in shock as you continued to stare at him. “I asked if you wanted me to pay for the coffees and you said no so now you’re following me?!” What a psycho!

He stood there silently, gazing at you with a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why are you staring at me? You need to leave.”

The man did nothing but continue to stand there, his mouth hanging open in what you perceived as happy recognition. Who knows how many buildings he went to before finding the one you entered, and now that he was here what was he planning on doing to you?

Without thinking of the ramifications you shoved the lead vest off and grabbed the nearest dental tool on the tray. You wished it was the drill but instead it was one with a curved end. You’re not sure what it’s called but you know it’s sharp and you hoped it would do some damage to this lunatic if he tried to come closer.

The stranger’s mouth pulled into a wide smile as he dipped his head forward and let out a chuckle. His actions only made you more nervous so you gripped the tool even tighter and pointed it towards him in the most threatening way you could be with an instrument that scrapes tooth plaque.

“If you don’t leave right now I’m gonna call the cops!”

You knew it was a stupid thing to say, since technically if you did call 911 it would take some time before any police arrived, and realistically you should have called for Dr. Barnes instead.

“I– ” he begins before he turns his head to the side seeing a figure walking towards him.

“James!” Dr. Barnes proclaimed from the hallway.

James? As in pimple-face braces James? As in George’s son James? Oh no.

A metallic clang rang out through the exam room as you dropped the dental tool back onto the tray and jumped back into the chair. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest as you quickly pulled up the lead vest and replaced it across your body, trying not to look like you just threatened your dentist’s son with a pseudo weapon.

“Hi Dad,” James responded in that beautifully smooth voice you heard not long ago.

Dr. Barnes came into your line of sight and seeing the two together made you want to kick yourself for not realizing it earlier. Their eyes were identical as was the little dimple on their chins though James stood taller than his father, and where Dr. Barnes was lean James was obviously muscular. The integrity of that shirt was put to the test the moment he got dressed and you found yourself growing hot at the thought of the younger Barnes in a state where his body would not be covered with clothing.

Dr. Barnes folded his arms across his chest, frowning as he huffed, “You’re late.”

“Sorry, I was bringing you coffee and then…” James stopped to share a knowing look in your direction, your own eyes flared with panicked anticipation wondering what he was going to say.

“... I bumped into someone and knocked them right out of my hand, totally my fault. Had to wait back in line again.”

Dr. Barnes swiped his hand down his face as he let out an expected sigh, “My son, the klutz.” He turned his head towards you, seeing the small curve your lips were pulled into. “See Y/N, this is why he’s single,” he joked.

James turned a few shades pinker with embarrassment at his father’s comment, especially when he locked eyes with you, seeing your own crinkling with unspoken laughter.

“Well it was kind of you to bring coffee but I’d rather you show up on time,” Dr. Barnes remarked.

James followed his father into your exam room as Dr. Barnes officially introduced his son. “Y/N, this is my son, Dr. James Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he said, extending his hand towards you.

“N-nice to meet you,” you replied, unable to contain the nerves in your voice.

Once again Dr. Barnes shook his head at his son’s actions, mumbling under his breath about how “Bucky” is not a professional name. It was all in good fun however as you could see the love they had for each other.

Turning his attention towards you again Dr. Barnes asked if you would feel comfortable with James finishing the exam and cleaning. “That call was from Winnie. She locked her keys in the car. So much for sleeping in.”

Your veins carried fear throughout your body as panic rooted itself deep into your bones. It’s not that you didn’t trust James or whatever he wanted to be called, in doing his job and Dr. Barnes would never steer you wrong but the fact that you would be alone with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen as his fingers probed your mouth made you feel more than awkward.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you lied through your ready to be examined teeth.

George smiled as he said goodbye, joking that he was going to call you later so you could let him know the truth about how James did during the exam.

The younger Barnes followed his father out of the room, telling you he would just need a minute to get ready, leaving you time to mentally prepare yourself.

You can do this Y/N. He’s just a hot guy. There are plenty of hot people out there. He’s just a normal guy with extraordinarily good looks. Don’t stare at him like he’s got a metal arm or something. Be cool.

Shrugging your shoulders you tried to physically shake off any lingering awkwardness, well as best as you could while still wearing the lead vest. With the morning you had you were glad you remembered to put on deodorant, especially now as you’re sweating in the chair, hoping the sweat stains under your arms that were definitely starting to form were not visible.

Footsteps echoed closer on the new wood flooring alerting you to sit up a bit more as you anticipated James’ arrival once more. He looked even better somehow, forgoing the suit jacket for a white lab coat.

“Time to get you out of that vest,” he said, scrunching his face up adorably as he corrected his words, “I mean, time to take the x-rays t-then you won’t need to wear the vest, heh.”

Responding with an awkward chuckle you felt slightly comforted by the fact that you weren’t the only one feeling nervous with the situation. You focused your eyes on the teal wall ahead, ignoring the way his deft fingers assembled the piece for the x-ray that would go in your mouth, holding a tense breath as he asked you to open your mouth and bite down.

Your mind was not helping you keep cool as it imagined his simple request in a more seductive scenario, hearing that smooth voice giving commands was not something you were turned off by.

You managed to make it through the rest of the x-rays with minimal squirming in your seat, as you combated visions of ripping his clothes off with thoughts of Shuri and her obsession with watching pimple popping videos. That girl may be a genius but there is definitely something wrong with her.

James’ fingers brushed against your arm as he finally took off the lead vest. “You’re hot,” he said causing your eyes to widen. “I mean from the vest,” he quickly mumbled.

Bucky was thankful his back was towards you as he hung the vest back up on the wall, rolling his eyes with embarrassment by his poor choice of words. It’s true, your body was feeling warm when his fingers gently skimmed across your skin but Bucky thought you were hot the moment you ran into each other outside the cafe.

He kicked himself for choosing to stand in line for coffee again instead of trying to talk with you before you left to give you his number. It took all the strength in the world not to drop the tray of coffee again when he saw you in the exam room. He’s truly never been happier to have been at work before.

Though Bucky had been practicing dentistry for quite a few years now being around you made him feel as nervous as he was during his first day of clinicals. He attempted to make small talk with you as he began the exam, an onerous task on your behalf as you could only communicate with a few sounds as your mouth hung open.

It was difficult not to look at James as he checked and cleaned your teeth. The bottom half of his handsome face was blocked by a mask but through his safety glasses you could still see those beautiful blue eyes, as clear as the ocean surrounding a tropical island.

Apparently you were lost in dreamy thought, unaware your tongue had strayed from where it was supposed to be during the cleaning.

“Stick your tongue out further,” he asked and you complied, focusing on the ceiling tiles above instead as he continued. “Okay, you can sit up and rinse now.”

Bringing the small cup to your lips you swished the water around your mouth and spit out a mess of saliva and blood.

“I never know what to do with my tongue,” you said, referencing your earlier action although hearing the words out of context you’re not sure if he knows what you mean. “D-during the exam!” you quickly added. “I know what to do with it.”

You heard a chuckle from behind, realizing your extra comment made things worse and you should probably never speak again.

Your mouth still felt unclean, though you couldn’t tell if it was leftover residue from the exam or the stupidity of your words. As you pressed the button to refill the cup you focused on the fact that in a few moments you would be getting your new toothbrush, paying the bill and leaving forever.

James spoke just as you began to pick up the cup, “Well, I’m happy to say your oral is good.”

The shock of his words caused your fingers to let go of the delicate cup, spilling water all over the floor.

“Health!” he shouted, catching his mistake. “Oral health!”

Bucky’s cheeks burned hotter than the sun and he didn’t need a mirror to know he was currently a deep crimson shade to match the level of embarrassment he felt. He wanted to disappear, magically teleport himself back to Indiana where he was not a bumbling idiot.

A gasp pulled his attention towards you as your hands simultaneously covered your gaping mouth while apologies spilled from your lips faster than the water.

“No, it’s okay, it’s my fault,” he apologized.

Bucky left the room, internally chastising himself for the ridiculous thing he said. He was thankful his father was not here to watch his descent into complete incompetence. There was something about you that made him act like a fool. He wondered if he could blame it on laughing gas, claim there was a leak in the nitrous oxide tank.

He opened the supply closet letting his shoulders slump as he exhaled a deep sigh. There was no way he could come back from this.

James returned with a large roll of paper towels in hand. Getting up from the chair you offered to help clean the spill but he insisted you didn’t have to. Instead you stood to the side, and despite how tempting it was to look at him bending over as he cleaned the floor you shut your eyes, pinched the bridge of your nose and wished you were still dreaming, hoping Shuri would wake you up from this nightmare.

His foot stepped on the pedal of the garbage as he dumped the saturated paper towels, pulling off his gloves to dump them as well. You still stood silently, inching your way out of the room, knowing you’ll have to find a new dentist because you could never face James or Dr. Barnes ever again.

Bucky rummaged through a drawer before turning towards you, “Do you want green or blue...or…. uhh, I’ve got orange,” he spoke of the toothbrushes.

“Doesn’t matter.” Get the toothbrush, pay the bill, leave forever.

James handed you a blue toothbrush and you wondered if it was a conscious choice, a reminder about his eyes even though this basic color falls short in comparison to the beauty of those sparkling sapphires.

Following him to the front you nodded quickly when he spoke about scheduling another appointment in six months. It didn’t matter, you would be cancelling it as the time neared. With the bill paid you gave him an awkward goodbye with a stupid wave that was immediately added to the long list of regrets for the day, and quickly ran out of the door.

A few hours later you were feeling better. You told Shuri everything the moment you got back to your apartment and even though reliving the disaster that was your morning made you feel embarrassed all over again, when she rolled off the bed from laughing so hard it allowed you to let go of everything and laugh along with her.

The buzzing of your phone on the table woke you from a nap you didn’t know you had taken. Seeing Dr. Barnes’ office number you remembered he said he would be calling you to check how things went.

“Hi, Dr. Barnes,” you said cheerily.

“Hi Y/N, this is Dr. Barnes. Not that Dr. Barnes though, it’s Bucky.”

“Oh, hi.” All of the nerves came rushing back as your heart raced with fear, wondering why he was calling you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just you left your jacket in the office.”

You completely forgot about your jacket until you were nearly home and a gust of wind caused goosebumps to erupt all over your bare arms reminding you about the poor jacket you abandoned in the office. It was too late, the jacket was a lost cause, an innocent victim as a result of your awkwardness, now homeless because you were not going back for it.

“Oh… yeah,” you responded, trying to sound casual.

“That’s not the only reason I called.”

Bucky cleared his throat, forcing himself to say the apologies he’s been repeating in his head all day but this time to the person who needed to hear it.

“I wanted to apologize for today. I’m normally not…” He ruminated on his words, trying to think of something professional before settling on the truth “… a mess.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his admission and the sound eased some of the tension he felt immediately. If Bucky was being honest you thought you should do the same.

“Me too. I’d like to think I’m a lot more chill than I was today.”

“So threatening people with a sickle probe isn’t a normal part of your dental experience?” he joked, pulling more laughter from you. “In all seriousness, I’d like to return your jacket and maybe I could buy you that cup of coffee?”

Bucky’s voice went higher with uncertainty as he silently hoped you would say yes to his offer. The momentary silence was deafening as he waited for your answer.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea…”

Bucky’s heart sunk to the floor. He was wrong to think you felt the same about him. Clearly you wanted to keep things professional, something he was clearly incapable of.

“…I heard coffee stains your teeth.”

Relief washed over him quickly, helping to slow the rapid beat of his anxious heart. His lips stretched wide across his face as he said, “Maybe it’s another excuse to see you again.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you chewed on your bottom lip to help contain the smile that threatened to spread all the way to Brooklyn. You decided to meet at a coffee shop in the middle, leaving you just enough time to get changed and attempt to look presentable again.

“I’ll see you soon Bucky,” you said, getting up and eyeing your closet for something to wear. “And I promise I won’t knock it over.”

“I hope not because it was definitely your fault this morning!”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated :)

Perm. Tags (open): @all1e23 / @asphalt-cocktail / @badassbaker / @bibibucky / @breezy1415 / @bucky-smiles / @buckybabybaby / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @buckyofthemyscira / @california-grown / @chameerah / @chrevastan / @crazyfreaker / @crazyinspiration / @driftingtonystark / @fandom-addict-aesthetics / @hana1379 / @his-paradox / @holland-stan-posts / @jaamesbbarnes / @jamesbvck / @jbuckbrnes / @kentuckybarnes / @kenzieam / @lokissoul / @mcu-avengers / @mizzzpink / @notimetoblog / @palaiasaurus64 / @prettyyoungtragedy / @royallylazy / @sgtjbuccky / @stanclub / @stevehesaidabadlanguageword / @supernaturaldean67 / @survivalistflowers / @suz-123 / @teamcap4bucky / @theassetseyeliner / @toongtii / @tropicalcap / @undyingart / @valhalla-ally / @wonderlandmind4 / @wonderless-screwup / @yknott81

#teamcap4bucky #teamcap4bucky 2k celebration #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot

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jamielea81 · 6 years ago

Text

Text to Win

Description: When you transpose two digits of a telephone number, you end up with more than you bargained for.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None really. Fluff and a tiny bit of angst.

It’s time for KMPQ’s text to win. And the question is ‘What’s the worst thing you can text someone after a first date?’ Text in your answer to 555-0243. We’ll pick a winner and those tickets are yours!

Having the radio on while you worked had become a habit. You played it softly through your laptop speaker much to your cubical neighbor Bernice’s disapproval. It wasn’t your fault, not really, you just couldn’t handle having earbuds in for more than a couple of hours.

“Oh crap! What did they say that number was?”

Bernice shrugged her shoulders, not even bothering to spare you a glance.

555-0243? No. 555-2043. Yeah, that’s it.

Entering the radio stations number on your phone, you submitted your answer.

“Could you pick me up some Imodium? I’ve got diarrhea AGAIN.”

Satisfied with your response, you went back to your report.

You had worked for Stark Industries for three years and you loved almost every minute of it. You started in the mailroom to get your foot in the door, but once your boss’ boss found out you had a degree in accounting, they moved you to that department. A year later you were moved to a specialized team that dealt with the expenses of the Avengers. It was an interesting job, and it was fun to guess what the food expenses would be each month. Your teammates placed bets each month regarding the total. Who ever had the worst guess bought donuts for the team. You haven’t had to buy any yet.

A couple of minutes later your phone chimed indicating you had a text message. The radio station was still on commercial break so you hoped it was them notifying that you had won.

KMPQ: I’m sorry, what now?

You frowned at your phone. That’s a weird way to reply.

Y/N: Does this mean I won?

KMPQ: What do you think you are winning?

I’m pretty sure I heard them say the number is 555-2043.

Y/N: Wait, is this not KMPQ Radio?

KMPQ:

I’m not sure what that means, but I’m pretty sure you have the wrong number.

You sighed out loud causing Bernice to spare you a glance. You scrunched your face and waved your hand to tell her it was fine.

The radio station had come back from commercial break announcing the winner. The winner’s reply had something to do with an STD. You rolled your eyes. They probably received a few replies regarding that topic. At least yours thought outside the box.

You slid your phone into your purse not wanting to think about how you texted a stranger that you needed diarrhea medication. You were positive a screen shot was entered on Twitter by now for all of humanity to see. You hoped they had the decency to blackout your phone number before they posted.

You were home and changed into your pajamas before you looked at your phone again. Surprisingly you had two new messages from the stranger.

Stranger: Do you really have diarrhea?

Stranger: My mother used to recommend plenty of fluids, bananas, rice, and applesauce to help with the symptoms.

Well, at least it was a helpful stranger.

Y/N: No, I don’t have diarrhea. I wrote it for a radio contest and I apparently had the wrong number. Sorry about that.

Y/N: And I’ll keep your mother’s cure in mind if the problem every arises.

You all of a sudden had a hankering for applesauce since your new stranger friend had mentioned it. Digging through your cupboards you found two snack pack cups. Finding a clean spoon in the sink, you made your way back to your couch. You clicked a picture of one of the cups and decided to text it.

Y/N: Since you mentioned it, applesauce sounds quite good right about now.

Stranger: I’m glad I could be of some assistance.

Stranger: You never did tell me what you were trying to win.

Y/N: Tickets to see the band Imagine Dragons next week.

Stranger: I’m not familiar with them. Are they any good?

Y/N: Yeah, they’ve got a lot of really great songs. You should look them up.

Y/N: What kind of music do you normally listen to?

Stranger: I like the oldies. Glenn Miller, Billie Holiday, Tommy Dorsey.

Tommy Dorsey? Was this someone’s grandparent you were texting with? If so, props to them for knowing how to text.

You didn’t really now how to respond. Deciding any response was better than no response.

Y/N: Cool

After about 20 minutes with no response, you figured your texting friend must have gotten bored with the conversation. Deciding to get ready for bed you set your alarm on your phone and placed it on your nightstand along with a glass of water. You brushed your teeth and applied your nightly moisturizer before laying down in your comfy bed.

Just a you were starting to doze off, your phone chimed with a text alert.

Stranger: I’m not old or anything.

Stranger: My friend Sam thought I should add that. I just like older music.

You laughed out loud to the response. You decided to have a little fun.

Y/N: What if I’m old? I feel offended.

Stranger: I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate being old is a bad thing. I actually think it’s a good thing.

You laughed again. Shaking your head at their response.

Y/N: I’m totally messing with you. I couldn’t resist. I’m 30.

Y/N: I’m Y/N by the way.

Exchanging first names can’t hurt.

Stranger: You had me going there. I’m Steve.

Y/N: Hi Steve. Glad to get a name from you, I had you in my phone as Stranger.

Steve: You don’t want to know what I had you in my phone as.

Y/N: Please don’t tell me you had it as Diarrhea.

Steve: Of course not. I had it as Imodium.

Y/N: Mortifying

Steve: Hey, it’s not so bad. Y/N is a lot prettier though.

Was he flirting with you?

Y/N: Why thank you. 😊

Y/N: I’m off to bed Steve. Good night.

Steve: Night Doll

Doll? You could get used to this flattery, even if it was from a stranger.

The next several days you and Steve texted quite frequently. Nothing too personal was shared. You mainly talked about what TV shows you were watching, what you had for dinner, and what crazy thing you saw on the subway that day.

Y/N: I swear Steve. The guy had a hug yellow snake around his neck! I don’t know how no one saw it until he was on the train.

Steve: Could it have been in his pants?

Y/N: Steve! No! I’m talking a 5 foot long snake. I know guys like to exaggerate about the size in their pants...

Steve: Doll…

Sometimes you wouldn’t hear from Steve for days. He told you he often worked on call and when he’s working, he can’t be on his phone. You understood, but it sure added an air of mystery. You thought he was a fireman which sent your imagination into overdrive. Picturing a buff Steve in his uniform, all sweaty…When you asked him about it, he told you he wasn’t a fireman, but didn’t extend beyond that.

About a month into your friendship you let it slip that you worked in Stark Tower. When you normally told people this, they would always ask if you knew any of the Avengers. Even though you technically worked with their expenses, you never met any of them. Steve had almost no reaction. You were relieved but also a little surprised.

It had been over a week since you received a text from Steve and you were starting to worry. He’d never been away for more than four days without sending you a text and here you were at seven. You worried that he was hurt and part of you was worried he got bored of you and decided to stop talking to you. There was no way to get a hold of him because you didn’t know any of his friends, you didn’t even know where he worked.

The next night, just before midnight, your phone rang startling you out of sleep. You reached for your phone, squinting your eyes to see the name on your caller id. Steve was calling you. In the three months you’d been texting, you’ve never talked on the phone.

“St-Steve?”

“Hi Doll.” His voice was rough and tired.

“Are you OK?”

“It was a hard week. I just really needed to hear your voice.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You sat up in bed, scooting yourself back so that you could rest your back against the headboard.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I really can’t. Could you just talk to me about your week? I just want to hear normal for a while.”

“I really wish you’d talk to me. I don’t know what you even do. It’s been eight days Steve and you call me after midnight. I’m relived but I’m also a little bit pissed.”

“Y/N.” You heard him let out a ragged breath. “Please, Doll. I promise to tell you soon. But for tonight, could you just tell me about your day?”

You licked your lips and nodded. Realizing he couldn’t see you, you quickly replied.

“Okay. So, today I had to bring donuts into work. I don’t think I ever told you, but I work in accounting. Boring, I know.”

He let out a chuckle and it was honestly the best sound you’ve heard in a long time.

“My team has a monthly bet about a certain account and I lost the bet this month so I had to buy the donuts. It was the first time I’ve lost in a year and a half, so I thought that was pretty good. Anyway, no one ever mentioned to me that Taylor was allergic to nuts. One of the donuts had chopped nuts on it, so Taylor like flipped out. It was pretty epic. She didn’t eat any of course, and I did apologize.”

He laughed again and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You have a really nice laugh Steve.”

“And you have a very beautiful voice Y/N.”

From that night on, Steve called you almost every day. Most days it was just for a minute or two because he really wanted to hear your voice. You enjoyed it as well.

By month four you were brave and sent Steve an unsolicited photo or yourself. It was a simple selfie of you with a nice smile. You were actually surprised he never asked for a picture.

Steve: You’re beautiful Doll. Far too pretty for me.

It made you blush but you were disappointed he never sent you one in return.

By five months you were anxious. When he wasn’t working, he was spending an hour on the phone with you at night before bed. He talked about his friends and the trouble they would get into, but he would always leave out details, like their names. He would talk about how traveling was lonely, but he would never specifically tell you where he had been. You respected his privacy, but you really wanted to know all of Steve.

Steve asked for other pictures of you. He told you he liked to sketch and he wanted to sketch you, but he needed additional angles. One night he sent you pictures of 4 sketches he had done of you and they were remarkable. For never seeing you in person, he was pretty spot on.

“My friends were giving me a hard time about the pretty girl in my drawings. I had to tell them how we met.”

“But did you tell them that we haven’t actually met?” You asked.

“Soon sweetheart. Soon.”

A week later, Steve called to say he had a job and would be gone for a while, but he didn’t know how long. You cried to him on the phone. The nightly conversations had become a habit you couldn’t live without.

“I promise to be safe. I’ll be back before you know it and you’ll be tired of me in no time.”

“That’ll never happen.” You said between sobs.

“Sweetheart, you’re breaking my heart. It’s going to be so hard for me too. I’ll try my best to be home as soon as I can. Okay?”

You let out a long breath trying to calm yourself down. “Okay. Bye Steve.”

Was it possible to love someone you’ve never met? Your heart was telling you yes.

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since you’ve heard Steve’s voice. Surprisingly you were spending more time with your co-workers. Bernice and you started having lunch together a week after Steve had gone on his work trip. She noticed you were down and you had the urge to talk to somebody. She didn’t know all the details, just that there was a man you had grown close to and he had an important job that he could keep him away for days or weeks with no communication. She said it sounded like a plot for a movie and you had to agree.

Steve had sent you a text early in the morning that he was back, but wouldn’t be available to talk until later in the day. You had made up your mind that you were going to meet him. It needed to happen. Even if he didn’t want anything more than friendship, you wanted to be able to see him in person. Watch movies together, listen to music together, talk about your days, but in person rather than on the phone.

You and Bernice were enjoying a late lunch in the lobby of the tower. She was going on about troubles with her landlord when you could have sworn you heard your name.

“Isn’t that Y/N!” You looked around, trying to see who was saying it. The lobby was pretty empty since it was almost two and most employees were done with their lunch by then.

“Why is the Falcon saying your name and pointing at you?” Bernice asked.

You looked over to where she was looking and sure enough the Falcon and Captain Rogers were looking at you. The Falcon even waved. Captain Rogers was saying something to him in a hushed voice that you couldn’t quite make out.

“I have no idea. I’ve never met them.” You shrugged your shoulders.

She pushed on your back, urging you to stand, so you did.

You took a couple of tentative steps toward the two of them. The Falcon had a bright smile on his face while Captain Rogers kept looking down.

“Um, hi.” You said.

The Falcon started to walk to you with Captain Rogers trailing behind. Once he was two feet in front of you, he spoke again. He stuck out his hand. “Hi Y/N, I’m Sam Wilson.”

You tentatively gave him your hand and shook his.

“I know. But. But how do you know who I am?” Eyebrows high with surprise.

Your hand was still in his and he gave an awkward chuckle. He released your hand and turned toward the Captain. When Captain Rogers said nothing and continued to look down, Sam nudged his shoulder hard with his own shoulder causing Captain Rogers to move closer to you by an inch or too. He looked up and gave you a bright smile which caused your face to heat up. Of course, you had seen pictures of the Captain and footage of him on TV, but you’ve never seen him in person. To put it simply, he took your breath away.

“Hi Doll. I’m Steve.”

You blinked a few times. Still not understanding why this awkward introduction between the three of you was taking place. But then you remembered something.

“Did you say doll?” You asked.

He nodded his head.

Your brow furrowed and you looked down. This can’t be.

“And you��re Steve?”

He nodded again.

“Nope. This can’t be happening. You are Captain Steve Rogers but you can’t be Steve. Nope.”

You turned back to Bernice whose mouth was wide open in shock, grabbed your lunch bag and proceeded to walk to the elevator to head back to your floor.

You heard Sam and Steve arguing behind you but you didn’t care. You heard shuffling of feet as you waited for the elevator, but that was Bernice who was out of breath apparently by the time she reached you. She started to ask about Steve to you but you raised your hand to her to silence her.

No sooner than when you were back at your desk did the text messages start rolling in from Steve. Or should you say Captain Steve Rogers?

Steve: Doll, please? Can we talk?

5 minutes later

Steve: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was. I wanted to do it in person.

30 minutes later

Steve: I’m calling you.

Sure enough your phone rang and you immediately sent it to voicemail.

In all honesty you didn’t really know why you were mad. You felt more embarrassed than anything else. Embarrassed that you were kind of in a way ambushed. You didn’t like that Sam Wilson and your co-worker slash friend Bernice were there. You didn’t like how the whole interaction caught you off guard. You would have liked to have known that Steve was Steve Rogers before you met him.

Hours later you were at home with a glass of wine. Yes, it was Tuesday, but the wine was needed.

Your phone chimed with another message from Steve. You ignored it for a minute or two, but then found yourself opening the message.

Steve: Hi Doll. I think it’s time that we met.

You rolled your eyes and then typed out a response.

Y/N: Funny

Steve: I’m serious Y/N. I want to meet the woman who messaged me about diarrhea and captivated my heart.

You smiled and shook your head. It was a great reply, you had to give him that.

Y/N: I’m mad at you.

Steve: I know and I’m sorry for that.

You decided to give in. You really cared about Steve and wanted nothing more than to see him in person before you accidently met him this afternoon. This was just another part of Steve you would have to get to know.

Y/N: When and where?

It was Thursday night and you and Steve had been radio silent since Tuesday. You told him you wanted the space before the two of you met and he said he understood.

You stood in a coffee shop two blocks from the Tower. Since it was after six, the shop was only half filled with patrons, but you didn’t see Steve anywhere. Deciding to order yourself a drink while you waited, hot chocolate since you rarely drank caffeine at night. You found a small table in the back, figuring he’d like the privacy a little better.

You were early and you knew it, but you couldn’t help but check your phone every couple of minutes. What if he got called away on a mission? You hoped he would text you before leaving. Those worries were useless as Steve Rogers stood in front of you, two drinks in his hand. He was dressed in jeans, a navy t-shirt and a blue ballcap on his head. God he’s handsome.

“I bought you a drink, but I see you already have one. It’s hot chocolate because I know you don’t drink coffee at night.”

You smiled at him and nodded. He set both drinks on the table and stuck out his hand. You stood up and walked closer to him.

“Hi. I’m Steve.”

You put your hand in his.

“Hi. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He held on to your hand, not releasing it after the initial shake. You smiled again and he licked at his bottom lip. His thumb started to caress your hand which instantly made your stomach flutter. Steve tugged you closer and pulled you into a hug. Your head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. You felt his breath on your neck and you smiled again.

“Yeah. It’s really great to finally meet you Doll.”

Tagging: @ly-cia @lookwhatyoumademequeue @humandasaster @joannie95 @xxloki81xx @thefandomzoneisdangerous @chita0027 @estillion14 @smoothdogsgirl @tessvillegas @xceafh @violetadefebrero

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #misdial #wrong number #marvel imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fan fiction #sam wilson #steve rogers x you

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pjoandaftg · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 3

After that trip Percy and Annabeth went from only seeing each other in passing to almost friends. She was still closer to Grover than she was to Percy, but that might be because Annabeth and Percy's timetables were always clashing so they were never really in the apartment at the same time. But Annabeth quickly found out the next week that it wasn't a coincidence that both Annabeth and Percy were free last Sunday to take Estelle out. They both, in fact, had Sunday free. Annabeth just hadn't realised because she had spent most Sundays with Piper either shopping or going to the small coffee shop on campus so Piper could stare at the cute blonde behind the counter.

But this Sunday, Piper was spending the day to finally get to know her new roommate, Reyna. So Annabeth had the day free. She had decided to skip her morning run in favour of sleeping in. It had been a long week. So she was very surprised that she found both Percy and Grover on the couch playing Mario kart. And by the sound of it, Percy was winning.

She went to grab a cup of coffee and when she returned she took a seat on the abandoned armchair, tucking her legs around her. She looked outside and saw that it was spilling rain. Skipping her morning run was a good idea, she thought. Her thoughts were pulled away when Percy let out a shout of celebration and Grover slammed his remote onto the couch.

"I give up. You're unbeatable." He whined while Percy just laughed.

"Don't worry buddy, no body's ever beaten me. I'm just too good." Percy said as he patted Grover's back.

Annabeth smiled at their interaction with amusement. Grover must have seen it because he looked at Annabeth and said,

"You mock my failure Annabeth," he put his hand to his heart in exaggerated hurt. "I'd like to see you do better."

Annabeth laughed and put down her cup. "Alright," she said. "Ten bucks says I win." Grover and Percy looked at each other, having a silent conversation before turning back to Annabeth. Percy stuck out his hand, Annabeth shook it. "Deal."

Annabeth picked up the remote. "Now no tears when I crush you Jackson, I can't live with two crybaby's. One's more than enough." Percy laughed a sharp laugh at Grover's hey! But Annabeth could tell by he wasn't actually hurt because he had a soft smile on his face.

The two of them decided that they'd do best out of three races. Percy won the first one and turned a smug grin at Annabeth while she flipped him off. Annabeth won the second game and copied Percy's smug grin back at him. The last game, they had decided to play Rainbow Road. The whole race, the two of them were throwing insults back and forth at each other in an attempt to throw the other one off. None of it worked and when it came to the last lap, they were both quiet with concentration.

The finish line was in site with Percy just in front, but suddenly a blue shell came down and hit him, while Annabeth sped past him into 1st place. She jumped up out of her seat while Grover laughed at Percy's shocked expression. But his disappointment quickly turned to amusement at Annabeth's little victory dance. She held out her hand.

"Pay up boys."

Both Grover and Percy gave her ten bucks each and when Annabeth started fanning herself with the two notes, both of them lost it and burst out laughing. Annabeth quickly joined in and soon enough the three of them were all in fits of laughter.

After they had all calmed down and the tears and stomach aches stopped, they all went to their own rooms to get dressed. When the three of them were all ready to go they set off down the road.

Not far from their apartment was a small diner. Annabeth had been there before. It was quiet and stayed open late at night. Not to mention the food was delicious. They all sat down in a small booth and waited for the waitress to come take their order. Annabeth ordered the spaghetti carbonara, Percy got the lasagna and Grover got the veggie burger.

When their food arrived they all dug in. The conversation flowed easily. Grover telling them about the week long trip he'll be going with one of his classes. Percy was talking about his next swim meet and Annabeth listened, adding her input when necessary. When Grover excused himself to go to the toilet, Percy suddenly turned to her.

"I just realised," he said. "We've lived together for almost two months now and I still don't know what you're studying."

Annabeth let out an amused puff of air. "Architecture." she said.

"That's so cool. Imagine one day in the future, I'll be walking around New York and look at a massive skyscraper and I can turn to the person beside me and say 'Hey, you see that building. Yeah, my old roommate was the architect. That's right. The Annabeth Chase was my roommate.'"

Annabeth let out a small laugh at that. "I have to pass my course first."

Percy made a pshaw noise and did that hand flapping thing. "Please, you'll pass with flying colours." And he looked so certain when he said it that she could almost believe him. Almost. But not quiet.

When Grover got back they split the bill and Grover went back to the apartment, he had an assignment due the next morning that he had to finish, and Percy and Annabeth headed towards the supermarket.

Annabeth had planned on going the next day but they were in town and it was convenient. Percy said he'd tag along simply because he 'didn't have anything better to do.'

They went to target because they were college students and couldn't afford to go anywhere else. They got a basket each and were walking down the aisle when Annabeth realised she was alone. She didn't think much about it, she just thought Percy went to grab something. That was until something popped out at her a scared the living shit out of her. She jumped back and let out a sharp scream all the while the contents of her basket rolled around the ground because did she mention, she also dropped her basket.

Percy took off the Halloween mask, gasping for air through his laughs. Annabeth thought she saw tears in his eyes.

"Oh my god," he gasped. "You should've seen your face." He then imitated a face so horrendously stupid that Annabeth couldn't help but smile. Percy's grin got wider at the sight of her upturned lips.

Annabeth looked down at her stuff, "you're picking them up, asshole." This made Percy's grin bigger. She didn't even think that was possible.

He bent down and picked up Annabeth's stuff, deodorant, toothpaste, some chocolate, a pen and some tampons. And unlike most boys would've, he didn't even bat an eye when he picked them up. The basket now refilled, he handed it back to her. "M'lady," he said in an awful accent.

Annabeth took the basket back with a fond "dumbass."

Percy then picked up his basket then and Annabeth saw the mask in his basket. It was some Freddy Krueger type mask. She raised an eyebrow at it. "You getting that?" she asked.

Percy shrugged his shoulders casually but his eyes sparkled mischievously, "Grover hates jump scares."

Annabeth would make sure to go slowly around corners from now on. "I pity your middle school teachers."

Percy let out a startled laugh at that. "You don't even know the half of it."

And despite it going against everything Annabeth taught herself, she found herself wanting to know the 'half of it' and that scared her. A lot.

Percy and Annabeth paid for their stuff and headed back to their apartment. On the walk from the subway to the apartment Annabeth let herself think about the past two months of living with Percy and Grover.

It was nice. The three of them living together and hanging out, and Annabeth could tell, that this was the start of a friendship unlike any other she's ever had. She wouldn't go as far as saying they're family. No, they're not family, not like Piper, not yet, but she couldn't help but think. Give it time and well, we'll see.

#percabeth #percabeth hc #percabeth fic #percabeth fanfic #Annabeth chase #Annabeth chase hc #Annabeth chase fic #percy jackson #percy Jackson fanfic #percy Jackson hc #grover underwood #roommate au #percabeth roommate au #slow burn #I love percabeth omg #and Mario kart lol #my writing

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msjr0119 · 5 years ago

Text

Love, Fate, Destiny

Part 1- Rewrite the stars

Riley Brooks is a waitress in a ‘Dive bar” in New York. One Saturday night, her past comes back to haunt her as some unfamiliar punters enter her bar on a bachelor party- one of them being someone who she was once close to.

*CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY*

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @butindeed @bbrandy2002 @ladyangel70 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @choices97 @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415

******

Riley woke up the following morning, she had believed that she had dreamt the previous night- until she saw the note on the bedside cabinet. For the majority of the night- she had contemplated texting Drake, but didn’t want her heart to break again. Knowing that he was to return to Cordonia later today, she just felt it was best to ignore that the previous night had even existed. Getting ready for the day she decided to go to the subway and head for Central Park - walking always cleared her mind.

****

Drake woke up in the hotel room, immediately reaching for his phone- hoping that Riley would have contacted him. There were no notifications. The stab in the heart made him wake up to reality that she truly hated him- there would be no convincing her that they could change their destiny. Instead of moping about, he swiftly packed his duffel bag and headed to Liam’s room, hoping that the Prince would want to leave early. When Liam mentioned visiting New York for his bachelor party- Drake tried to convince him to have it elsewhere. Liam questioned why his friend wouldn’t want to go back? Frustration in his voice, Drake knew that Liam wouldn’t put his foot down. Who can say no to a Prince anyway?

“Hello, Drake. It’s early. I believe we aren’t leaving until later?” Liam said as stretching his tired limbs. This was supposed to be a relaxing break, and Drake had woken him up at the crack of dawn.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought you’d be awake. I thought if the others were awake we could make an early leave?”

Liam raised his eyebrow, he had a feeling he knew why Drake was suggesting that they leave abruptly. He had told him the previous night to gain closure- maybe it didn’t go that well. Guilt began to go through his mind.

“What happened with her? I know this has something to do with Riley. Why are you wanting to run?”

“Because its what I do best Li, I tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t listen. I left the bar leaving her my number and a note. And she hasn’t responded.” - Drake had given up on all hope, he just wanted to leave asap. Forget that he ever laid eyes on her baby blues again.

“Give her time. It’s early.”

“I don’t need to Li. She hates me. This is why I didn’t want to come here in the first place. I know the city is big but I never believed we would see her.”

“She has your number Drake. The only thing you can do is wait. I’m sorry I can’t do anymore.”

Liam pat his friend on the shoulder. He knew this was Leo’s fault for uprooting Drake back to Cordonia. Leo did what he thought was best- but Liam had other people supporting him.

****

Drake went down to the hotel lobby for some breakfast. Liam had hoped it wasn’t a liquid breakfast with how his friend was feeling- he began to think and called Maxwell to his room. He required another person’s opinion on what he planning.

“Li what’s up? I’m hungover. I could have done with a bit longer in bed...” - Maxwell barely walked in the room, his hair was static and he held a black coffee in his hand.

“It’s Drake.”

“Ohhh did he and the hot waitress... you know?” His eyes suddenly widened, hoping that Drake had finally had some fun. He had been a miserable bastard the whole time they was in New York.

“No, he and Riley didn’t do anything. I need you to do something... don’t tell Drake that I’m interfering.”

*****

After the park, Riley decided to travel an hour and half to Wading River Beach. She hired a car not knowing where she was going to begin with. It led her there, to the place where they would all come for a day trip. Those summer days they frolicked on the beach during the day- the men sometimes took time out to fish whilst the girl’s sunbathed. The sunset was the most amazing view anyone could witness- the mixture of orange and pink colours rose above the clear blue warm sea water.

Riley took her sliders off, her feet sunk in the soft sand. A distant memory lead her to the rocks that overlooked the beautiful ocean. Sitting there minding her own business - listening to the waves crashing against the pebbles and pure white sand effortlessly. The slight breeze, moving her brown locks along with its direction. After seeing Drake last night, her memory lead her here- it was the first time they had kissed.

There was an awkward atmosphere, Lola had split up with Drake and was now dating Daniel- Riley’s colleague. They arrived at Wading River Beach- the usual place they attended on a gorgeous summer’s day. Lola’s younger sister, Beth and some other friends joined in the day trip. Drake didn’t really want to see his ex girlfriend frolicking around with her new crush- she invited him to try and keep civil. The first question he asked before confirming was if Riley was going. The minute he knew she was, he decided to go. Before Lola had cheated on him, he always had feelings for her best friend. He knew it was wrong but he could never get Riley Brooks out of his mind.

All the friends decided to go for a swim, the minute Riley stripped down to her bikini, Drake’s eyes widened. He finally witnessed her beautiful body. Every inch of her was perfect, her curves, her cleavage- she was better than he had ever imagined. He didn’t realise he was gawping until Lola tapped him on the shoulder.

“How long have you liked her?”- she questioned.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play stupid Drake. I know you like her. She likes you too- she told me when we’d split up. I told her to tell you her true feelings but she’s too stubborn.”

“Lola! Please don’t try and give me relationship advise after what you did in ours. I had thoughts about Riley, which I felt guilty about until I found out that you physically went and fucked Daniel in our bed!” - Drake snapped back at his ex girlfriend. She had no right to interfere in his life anymore.

“Drake... I’m so sorry, I can’t help how I feel. And I’m telling you as a friend. Go and talk to her.”

Drake watched Riley emerge from the water with Beth. Her damp hair swaying across her body, the water trickling down her made Drake go slightly hard. Deciding that now was a good opportunity, he walked over to the two women who were paddling.

“Brooks, Beth.”

“Hey, Walker. What you doing?” - Riley asked, shocked that he would sneak up behind them- she was unsure if to cover up or not, as she was practically nearly naked.

“Well I’m going to take my top off and go for a swim. Are you both going to join?”

Beth noticed in the corner of her eye, her sister waving at her frantically- confused as to why her sister was acting that way- she decided to leave Drake and Riley to find out the reasoning behind her sisters erratic behaviour.

“Erm, you two go ahead, I’ll be back in a moment. Lola seems to be acting like she needs me. Be right back!”

Drake took his top off, flexing his muscles. Riley daren’t look in his direction- she was already blushing.

“Have you got sunscreen on Walker? Sun safety is no joke.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Do- do you need some?” Drake was hoping she would say no, hoping that Beth had already done it. He was already trying to cover up his slight erection. If he was to touch her, he didn’t know what would happen.

“I could do with some on my back. But I’m sure I’ll be fine until Beth comes back.”

“I can do it for you. I’m not totally useless Brooks. After we can have a race if you want?”

“Thanks. We’ll see. I’m an Olympic swimmer ya know.”

Drake laughed at her as she winked at him. He rubbed the sunscreen evenly on her back. He quickly finished as he could feel himself grow. Riley just wanted to turn around and hug him- his touch sent shivers down her spine. She now regretted agreeing to him doing this.

They both entered the natural warm glistening sea. Riley agreed to a race just to shut him up- she would win one way or another.

Drake set off before Riley, she was fuming that he had a head start. She was tired before she even begun but suddenly had an adrenaline rush- she couldn’t let his ego boost anymore. Grabbing his foot, she hoped it would slow him down.

“Hey! What was that?”

“Uh, seaweed?”

Riley smirked as she continued swimming, determined to not lose concentration- eventually she won the race. Realising how unfit she actually was as she was too breathless after a little swim- she realised she needed to join some type of gym to keep fit and healthy. Maybe Drake could help her train?

“I believe I am the winner, Walker.”

Drake grabbed her, pulling her closer him- their bodies collided. Holding her tightly he lent down to her ear whispering in a flirtatious way...

“That damn seaweed... Or would I be wrong in thinking that you pulled a cunning trick Miss Brooks?”

He brought his face back towards hers, resting his forehead on hers- both closing their eyes. After a while, he placed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek, staring longingly into her baby blues.

“Ri, you are beautiful. You know that?”

“We should head back.” Riley gulped as a large lump formed in her throat- she wanted more but didn’t want to feel like a rebound or be rejected.

“Riley... we don’t have to head back yet...” - She looked into his pleading eyes before avoiding his gaze, shaking her head.

“I do Drake. Before I do something I regret.”

Drake held her close and pressed his lips onto hers. Her lips were soft with a taste of cherry balm mixed with sea salt. Pulling back, he had hoped that he wasn’t too presumptuous. Biting her lip not knowing what had just happened, she saw longing in his eyes. What’s the worse that could happen she thought? Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and neck- she reinstated the kiss. As the kiss became deeper and more passionate, Drake picked her up holding her tightly next to his abs- her legs wrapped around his muscly body. When they parted they were both breathless- the oxygen was knocked out of their lungs.

“Wow.”

“Wow?”

“You’re a good kisser Brooks. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“You- you have?”

“Yes, it was better than all my fantasies. I like you a lot, Ri....I suppose I always have done.”

“I suppose, I like you too.”

“Would you... would you like to... ya know... go on a date with me? Be my girl?”

*****

Riley could still feel that first kiss linger on her lips even after all these years. She had been sat in the same place for about an hour, and her bottom had become numb. Gathering all her things together, she took in the view one last time. Wishing she could stay for the sunset, but not really wanting to pay an overnight charge for the hire car. Hearing footsteps coming towards her, she believed it would be kids wanting to sit on the rock to search for creatures.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

“Drake? What are you doing here?”

“Probably the same reason you are. The first time we kissed. The time that ‘seaweed’ attacked me. The memories.”

“Heh, yes. Seaweed. Erm I’m just leaving, I have to return the hire car. Have a safe flight back to Cordonia. I’ll text you sometime.”

“I’d like that. I can come and visit you every so often.”

“Sure thing. Walker. See ya.”

Drake ran after Riley, he couldn’t leave it like that. He meant what he said, he would come back to New York - especially with Liam’s social season due to begin soon. No one would notice his absence- he was a nobody. He wasn’t important. Turning her around to face him, he crashed his lips on to hers- scared that she would reject him. Instead she jumped into his embrace, wrapping her legs around him as he deepened the kiss. Parting the kiss left them both breathless as it did all those years ago.

“I mean it Ri. I will come back every weekend to see you....What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine. Nothing could keep us apart you’d be the one I was meant to find.... I’ve missed you. And I’ve never stopped loving you.”

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #drake x riley #liam x drake

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